2017 Tales of Our Town
The following Tales were published in 2017
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December 2017
The Old Train Station by Janet Cummer
In Meet Me at the Station, author Elizabeth Willmot laments, “I experience great sadness when I see the changes in railroading in my lifetime and I feel as though an old friend has gone whenever a favourite railway station is demolished.” Fire destroyed our station in Strathroy in March 2004, a case of arson - in a way not surprising, as the building had stood empty and boarded up for at least two decades, looking increasingly sad.
When that station was built in 1887, it was the hub of the town. Strathroy’s prosperity had been built on its location on the railway line and the handsome brick building was achieved for just $9,000. Not a ‘boutique’ station, as in Petrolia and Glencoe, it was built to handle large amounts of freight as well as passengers. It replaced the first depot which had opened in December 1858 when the Sarnia Branch of the Great Western Railway came through town. Stewart Lamont, in Memories of Old Strathroy, recalls the original structure being frame and painted “Indian red”, just a little west of the new station. However, as early as 1871, this old building was regarded as inadequate for the needs of our growing community.
By the summer of 1887, tenders were posted by the Grand Trunk Railway, which had bought the Great Western, for “the erection of a brick passenger station at Strathroy with the latest improvements and conveniences”. Ken Campbell, in They Came Before Us, records that Council was so pleased with the resulting building that in March 1888 they wanted to give a banquet for the railway officials. When this was turned down by the Railway, Council settled for sending a formal vote of thanks.
Oddly, there is surprisingly little written about our station. Photos show its functional appearance, freight at one end and passenger service at the other. Boarding the train was convenient, with the brick platform on the edge of the tracks. Entering the station, there was a large open room with a pot-bellied stove in the centre, and benches. To the right, we proceeded to buy our ticket at the first wicket. Next to it was a second wicket for sending telegrams and mailing parcels. The walls were lined with old prints of trains and ocean liners extolling the excitement of travel. And who can forget the smell of wood and varnish? Especially on a cold winter day it was a meeting place where older citizens of the town could pass the time. Except for the clacking of the telegraph, it was quiet until the train whistle announced an arrival from London or Sarnia, leading to a flurry of activity on the platform outside.
In its heyday, the station played a major role in Strathroy’s prosperity and in town life. The 1861 census records a population of 751, increasing to 3,232 by 1871. Travellers arrived by train, troops left for war by train and the town welcomed high-profile visitors like Sir John A. Macdonald and Sir Wilfrid Laurier. When Strathroy held its Old Boys Reunion in 1930 the Age Dispatch extolled the virtues of our station as “one of the most commodious, best kept and efficiently managed depots in the system. Vast quantities of high-class furniture, butter, handles, apples, canned goods, including livestock, are shipped from Strathroy every year…Being on the main line from Montreal to Chicago, we are as well served as the much larger centres.” [July 31, 1930]
It is interesting that mail could be delivered directly to the station to be put on the train, bypassing the downtown Post Office. There was a public mailbox inside the station where letters would be stamped “rail postal stamp”. In the 1950s my father, the Strathroy Collegiate principal, would take the Grade 13 exam papers directly to the train station when sending them to Toronto to be marked.
But times change. From 69 trains, passenger and freight, coming through Strathroy every day, the number dwindled over the years. Now only two passenger trains stop daily, and tickets are purchased on the train. Freight moves through town in long trains without stopping, or in trucks that travel the 401 highway, no longer limited by a train schedule. And after 1971 ‘rail mail’ was moved by truck. In the end, the station was unused, except as a shelter for passengers waiting for the train and perhaps as storage. In 2002 the CNR sold the building to local businessman Norm Buwalda, who considered converting it into a restaurant. Following the fire in 2004, he had hoped to rebuild. However in the end, the property was sold the next year, divided between Denning Bros. Funeral Home and Strathroy-Caradoc, with the township having access to Metcalfe Street and Denning’s to Caradoc Street. Today the train station is a kiosk. But now perhaps that’s all that’s needed.
In Meet Me at the Station, author Elizabeth Willmot laments, “I experience great sadness when I see the changes in railroading in my lifetime and I feel as though an old friend has gone whenever a favourite railway station is demolished.” Fire destroyed our station in Strathroy in March 2004, a case of arson - in a way not surprising, as the building had stood empty and boarded up for at least two decades, looking increasingly sad.
When that station was built in 1887, it was the hub of the town. Strathroy’s prosperity had been built on its location on the railway line and the handsome brick building was achieved for just $9,000. Not a ‘boutique’ station, as in Petrolia and Glencoe, it was built to handle large amounts of freight as well as passengers. It replaced the first depot which had opened in December 1858 when the Sarnia Branch of the Great Western Railway came through town. Stewart Lamont, in Memories of Old Strathroy, recalls the original structure being frame and painted “Indian red”, just a little west of the new station. However, as early as 1871, this old building was regarded as inadequate for the needs of our growing community.
By the summer of 1887, tenders were posted by the Grand Trunk Railway, which had bought the Great Western, for “the erection of a brick passenger station at Strathroy with the latest improvements and conveniences”. Ken Campbell, in They Came Before Us, records that Council was so pleased with the resulting building that in March 1888 they wanted to give a banquet for the railway officials. When this was turned down by the Railway, Council settled for sending a formal vote of thanks.
Oddly, there is surprisingly little written about our station. Photos show its functional appearance, freight at one end and passenger service at the other. Boarding the train was convenient, with the brick platform on the edge of the tracks. Entering the station, there was a large open room with a pot-bellied stove in the centre, and benches. To the right, we proceeded to buy our ticket at the first wicket. Next to it was a second wicket for sending telegrams and mailing parcels. The walls were lined with old prints of trains and ocean liners extolling the excitement of travel. And who can forget the smell of wood and varnish? Especially on a cold winter day it was a meeting place where older citizens of the town could pass the time. Except for the clacking of the telegraph, it was quiet until the train whistle announced an arrival from London or Sarnia, leading to a flurry of activity on the platform outside.
In its heyday, the station played a major role in Strathroy’s prosperity and in town life. The 1861 census records a population of 751, increasing to 3,232 by 1871. Travellers arrived by train, troops left for war by train and the town welcomed high-profile visitors like Sir John A. Macdonald and Sir Wilfrid Laurier. When Strathroy held its Old Boys Reunion in 1930 the Age Dispatch extolled the virtues of our station as “one of the most commodious, best kept and efficiently managed depots in the system. Vast quantities of high-class furniture, butter, handles, apples, canned goods, including livestock, are shipped from Strathroy every year…Being on the main line from Montreal to Chicago, we are as well served as the much larger centres.” [July 31, 1930]
It is interesting that mail could be delivered directly to the station to be put on the train, bypassing the downtown Post Office. There was a public mailbox inside the station where letters would be stamped “rail postal stamp”. In the 1950s my father, the Strathroy Collegiate principal, would take the Grade 13 exam papers directly to the train station when sending them to Toronto to be marked.
But times change. From 69 trains, passenger and freight, coming through Strathroy every day, the number dwindled over the years. Now only two passenger trains stop daily, and tickets are purchased on the train. Freight moves through town in long trains without stopping, or in trucks that travel the 401 highway, no longer limited by a train schedule. And after 1971 ‘rail mail’ was moved by truck. In the end, the station was unused, except as a shelter for passengers waiting for the train and perhaps as storage. In 2002 the CNR sold the building to local businessman Norm Buwalda, who considered converting it into a restaurant. Following the fire in 2004, he had hoped to rebuild. However in the end, the property was sold the next year, divided between Denning Bros. Funeral Home and Strathroy-Caradoc, with the township having access to Metcalfe Street and Denning’s to Caradoc Street. Today the train station is a kiosk. But now perhaps that’s all that’s needed.
November 2017
Strathroy’s other General: William Bethune Lindsay by Libby Dawson
The small town of Strathroy Ontario Canada produced not just one, but two of the most outstanding generals from all the countries on both sides of the World War I trenches: General Arthur Currie and Major General William Bethune Lindsay. Both men were part of the first contingent to go overseas in the fall of 1914, Brigadier General Currie commanding the 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade and Major Lindsay with the Royal Canadian Engineers. Both men were promoted up the ranks, and by 1917 Currie had risen to full General, commanding the whole Canadian Corps with no British General assigned.
William Bethune Lindsay is not well known, even locally, probably in part because Currie’s star shone so brightly. He was born in Strathroy in 1880, son of a respected town physician, William Baltimore Lindsay. Four of Dr. Lindsay’s five sons served overseas in World War I: William, Neville and George returned home safely, but Arthur was killed near Ypres in 1915. William, after completing high school in Strathroy, graduated in civil engineering from Royal Military College in Kingston in 1900. When war broke out in 1914 he had already held military positions across Canada with increasing levels of responsibility. By March 1916 he became Chief Engineer, Canadian Army Corps with the rank of Brigadier General and, after the armistice, Major General.
After his appointment as Chief Engineer Lindsay’s duties brought him to the front lines, overseeing construction projects and supply delivery for all the battles in which the Canadian Army engaged. Military war diaries describe the formidable challenges he faced: keeping muddy roads passable, drinking water available, trenches drained and reinforced, and rail (tram) supply lines repaired after the daily enemy shelling. Lindsay constantly came up with innovations that improved efficiency and saved lives. One such idea involved the placement of heavy artillery. While positioning the big guns beside main roads and tramways made for easier delivery of heavy shells, the guns attracted enemy fire, leading to constant road and track repairs that endangered work crews and delayed deliveries to the front lines. To reduce casualties and road repair, Lindsay had all artillery moved away from the roads and created spur tram lines to supply each gun.
His most brilliant invention was these narrow gauge ‘tramways’ which replaced trucks, horses, and men backpacking supplies to the trenches through mud and gunfire. He had the first tramway cobbled together using a captured German motor, handmade railway spikes and old wagons turned into tram cars. This system proved to be the best way to bring supplies to the front and to remove wounded soldiers back to first aid stations and field hospitals. It used the fewest people, was easy to repair, and the trams could be pushed by hand if necessary. The tracks also kept trams up out of the mud, the most persistent problem for all armies during the entire war.
Major General Lindsay was known to be calm, sometimes described as ‘lethargic’, but his mind was always organized, active and sharp. With the safety of the soldiers his priority he carried out changes he believed were necessary, at times ignoring high-ranked doubters. He was an outstanding engineer who found creative solutions to the most difficult problems, to keep armies functioning in rain, mud, snow, artillery bombardments and the hail of machine gun bullets. One of the most monumental engineering feats of the war, the Vimy chalk tunnels, fell under General Lindsay’s leadership.
Strathroy can take pride in its two generals. Currie’s creative tactics and meticulous planning are still studied by today’s military leaders. But without the contributions of Lindsay, who provided so many vital engineering advantages on the field of battle, his success would not have been guaranteed. Wars are not won by soldiers who are hungry and thirsty, who don’t have protection during battle and who run out of ammunition. Lindsay was the guy who figured out how to provide all those things under terrible conditions. He deserves a star as bright as Currie’s.
The small town of Strathroy Ontario Canada produced not just one, but two of the most outstanding generals from all the countries on both sides of the World War I trenches: General Arthur Currie and Major General William Bethune Lindsay. Both men were part of the first contingent to go overseas in the fall of 1914, Brigadier General Currie commanding the 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade and Major Lindsay with the Royal Canadian Engineers. Both men were promoted up the ranks, and by 1917 Currie had risen to full General, commanding the whole Canadian Corps with no British General assigned.
William Bethune Lindsay is not well known, even locally, probably in part because Currie’s star shone so brightly. He was born in Strathroy in 1880, son of a respected town physician, William Baltimore Lindsay. Four of Dr. Lindsay’s five sons served overseas in World War I: William, Neville and George returned home safely, but Arthur was killed near Ypres in 1915. William, after completing high school in Strathroy, graduated in civil engineering from Royal Military College in Kingston in 1900. When war broke out in 1914 he had already held military positions across Canada with increasing levels of responsibility. By March 1916 he became Chief Engineer, Canadian Army Corps with the rank of Brigadier General and, after the armistice, Major General.
After his appointment as Chief Engineer Lindsay’s duties brought him to the front lines, overseeing construction projects and supply delivery for all the battles in which the Canadian Army engaged. Military war diaries describe the formidable challenges he faced: keeping muddy roads passable, drinking water available, trenches drained and reinforced, and rail (tram) supply lines repaired after the daily enemy shelling. Lindsay constantly came up with innovations that improved efficiency and saved lives. One such idea involved the placement of heavy artillery. While positioning the big guns beside main roads and tramways made for easier delivery of heavy shells, the guns attracted enemy fire, leading to constant road and track repairs that endangered work crews and delayed deliveries to the front lines. To reduce casualties and road repair, Lindsay had all artillery moved away from the roads and created spur tram lines to supply each gun.
His most brilliant invention was these narrow gauge ‘tramways’ which replaced trucks, horses, and men backpacking supplies to the trenches through mud and gunfire. He had the first tramway cobbled together using a captured German motor, handmade railway spikes and old wagons turned into tram cars. This system proved to be the best way to bring supplies to the front and to remove wounded soldiers back to first aid stations and field hospitals. It used the fewest people, was easy to repair, and the trams could be pushed by hand if necessary. The tracks also kept trams up out of the mud, the most persistent problem for all armies during the entire war.
Major General Lindsay was known to be calm, sometimes described as ‘lethargic’, but his mind was always organized, active and sharp. With the safety of the soldiers his priority he carried out changes he believed were necessary, at times ignoring high-ranked doubters. He was an outstanding engineer who found creative solutions to the most difficult problems, to keep armies functioning in rain, mud, snow, artillery bombardments and the hail of machine gun bullets. One of the most monumental engineering feats of the war, the Vimy chalk tunnels, fell under General Lindsay’s leadership.
Strathroy can take pride in its two generals. Currie’s creative tactics and meticulous planning are still studied by today’s military leaders. But without the contributions of Lindsay, who provided so many vital engineering advantages on the field of battle, his success would not have been guaranteed. Wars are not won by soldiers who are hungry and thirsty, who don’t have protection during battle and who run out of ammunition. Lindsay was the guy who figured out how to provide all those things under terrible conditions. He deserves a star as bright as Currie’s.
Seated in the front row of a group of more than 30 high ranking officers: left to right, Maj. Gen. Lindsay, Maj. Gen. MacDonnell, Prince Arthur (former Governor General of Canada) and Lieut. Gen. Arthur Currie.
Photo from Pictorial History of the Great War Book II (1919) - General Sir Arthur Currie with H.R.H. Prince Arthur of Connaught and divisional and brigadier generals (cropped) pg 2
October 2017
Nick Homorodean: fondly remembered by Libby McLachlan
For those of us growing up after the War, the ‘throwaway society’ had not yet arrived. Worn-out shoes were restored and re-soled, purses and bags re-stitched. Visits to Nick’s Shoe Repair on Frank Street were part of our life, especially for growing families on limited budgets. No job was too much effort and you were greeted with a smile when you entered the shop. And in the end, you were handed shoes that looked almost like new, because Nick had polished them on his special rollers before putting them in a re-cycled paper bag. When he retired in 2002 at age 75 the town missed not only his shop but that smile.
Nick’s father, Nicolae Homorodean, his wife Mary and baby daughter Mary immigrated to Canada from Romania in 1925. They settled in Windsor, close to Nicolae’s brother, and added Nick and his brother Cornell to their family. Nicolae had been a shoemaker in Romania. In Windsor he learned English while working at various jobs, including one in a shoe repair shop. His goal: to eventually have his own shop. When Nick was seven the family moved to Strathroy, where his father worked for (Henry) Rivers Shoes, repairing footwear in the store basement. Later he opened a shop on Front St W. When that building burned down (the current Libro site), he rented space at the back of Charlie Gill’s grocery store on Centre Street across from the old post office.
Most of Nick’s growing-up years were spent in the family home at the top of the hill on the southeast corner of Kittridge and Caradoc Streets. There were chickens, dairy cows and pigs. Along with school, Nick did the farm chores, while Cornell worked for a fuel business near the railway tracks. When Nick’s father died in 1958 at age 60, he had just sold the Kittridge property to Cameron Sommerville, in order to buy J.C. Down’s building on Frank St., where he planned to open a new shop with Nick. Nicolae had taught his shoe repair skills to his son. So Nick opened the repair shop and built an addition, complete with an apartment at the back for his mother. And, doing most of the work himself, he made two rental apartments above the shop.
Nick and Lillie McDonald had been married in 1950. When I visited them in 2016 they were still living in “The Homorodean’s Earthly Home”, the house at 80 Thomas Street they bought when they were married 66 years earlier. Over time they had built additions to each side of their small white house and dug a basement to put a large room downstairs. Nick did most of the interior work, rearranging the space as their family grew. Their house was full of the memories and mementos of a lifetime, and their love and respect for each other and their Christian faith were plainly visible.
Back to the shop on Frank Street, where Nick was busy mending shoes, purses, belts and tents, replacing zippers and sharpening skates. Tobacco farmers brought in worn canvas satchels and bibs, and hockey and baseball players needed leather gloves repaired. Nick had his Dad’s heavy sewing machine, and added a new one. Almost every night he would go back to the shop to keep up with the work. He closed on Mondays in order to catch up and, like the whole town, the shop closed on Wednesday afternoons. Once a month a representative from his supplier in Windsor dropped in to take orders for leather, soles, heels etc. Two settees along the wall encouraged people to come in and visit, especially Dutch and Portuguese folks who were learning English. Nick always remembered who had brought in which items for repair, and exactly where they were amidst all those on the shelves – although he did use a ‘duplicate ticket’ system with numbers, never names. So he knew his customers by sight, if not by name, and they all felt welcome in his shop.
For many years, Nick closed his business for three weeks each summer. He and Lillie took their five children camping at the Pinery. (While growing up Peter, Holly, Sandra, Andy and Donna all helped in the shop.) He had sewed a big addition to their tent, to cover a picnic table in case of inclement weather. Later, Nick and Lillie had a trailer, which they used until age 80. In 1992 they spent a month visiting Nick’s sister, Mary, who was married to a Presbyterian minister in Hong Kong, and brought home lots of souvenirs.
Sadly, Nick died earlier this year, on March 25. For the past several years complications following knee surgery had left him unable to walk. But when I visited a year ago he greeted me with the same smile I remembered from his shop. He had a well-thumbed large print Bible beside his chair, which he had read from cover to cover in each of the past three years, and which gave him great comfort.
For those of us growing up after the War, the ‘throwaway society’ had not yet arrived. Worn-out shoes were restored and re-soled, purses and bags re-stitched. Visits to Nick’s Shoe Repair on Frank Street were part of our life, especially for growing families on limited budgets. No job was too much effort and you were greeted with a smile when you entered the shop. And in the end, you were handed shoes that looked almost like new, because Nick had polished them on his special rollers before putting them in a re-cycled paper bag. When he retired in 2002 at age 75 the town missed not only his shop but that smile.
Nick’s father, Nicolae Homorodean, his wife Mary and baby daughter Mary immigrated to Canada from Romania in 1925. They settled in Windsor, close to Nicolae’s brother, and added Nick and his brother Cornell to their family. Nicolae had been a shoemaker in Romania. In Windsor he learned English while working at various jobs, including one in a shoe repair shop. His goal: to eventually have his own shop. When Nick was seven the family moved to Strathroy, where his father worked for (Henry) Rivers Shoes, repairing footwear in the store basement. Later he opened a shop on Front St W. When that building burned down (the current Libro site), he rented space at the back of Charlie Gill’s grocery store on Centre Street across from the old post office.
Most of Nick’s growing-up years were spent in the family home at the top of the hill on the southeast corner of Kittridge and Caradoc Streets. There were chickens, dairy cows and pigs. Along with school, Nick did the farm chores, while Cornell worked for a fuel business near the railway tracks. When Nick’s father died in 1958 at age 60, he had just sold the Kittridge property to Cameron Sommerville, in order to buy J.C. Down’s building on Frank St., where he planned to open a new shop with Nick. Nicolae had taught his shoe repair skills to his son. So Nick opened the repair shop and built an addition, complete with an apartment at the back for his mother. And, doing most of the work himself, he made two rental apartments above the shop.
Nick and Lillie McDonald had been married in 1950. When I visited them in 2016 they were still living in “The Homorodean’s Earthly Home”, the house at 80 Thomas Street they bought when they were married 66 years earlier. Over time they had built additions to each side of their small white house and dug a basement to put a large room downstairs. Nick did most of the interior work, rearranging the space as their family grew. Their house was full of the memories and mementos of a lifetime, and their love and respect for each other and their Christian faith were plainly visible.
Back to the shop on Frank Street, where Nick was busy mending shoes, purses, belts and tents, replacing zippers and sharpening skates. Tobacco farmers brought in worn canvas satchels and bibs, and hockey and baseball players needed leather gloves repaired. Nick had his Dad’s heavy sewing machine, and added a new one. Almost every night he would go back to the shop to keep up with the work. He closed on Mondays in order to catch up and, like the whole town, the shop closed on Wednesday afternoons. Once a month a representative from his supplier in Windsor dropped in to take orders for leather, soles, heels etc. Two settees along the wall encouraged people to come in and visit, especially Dutch and Portuguese folks who were learning English. Nick always remembered who had brought in which items for repair, and exactly where they were amidst all those on the shelves – although he did use a ‘duplicate ticket’ system with numbers, never names. So he knew his customers by sight, if not by name, and they all felt welcome in his shop.
For many years, Nick closed his business for three weeks each summer. He and Lillie took their five children camping at the Pinery. (While growing up Peter, Holly, Sandra, Andy and Donna all helped in the shop.) He had sewed a big addition to their tent, to cover a picnic table in case of inclement weather. Later, Nick and Lillie had a trailer, which they used until age 80. In 1992 they spent a month visiting Nick’s sister, Mary, who was married to a Presbyterian minister in Hong Kong, and brought home lots of souvenirs.
Sadly, Nick died earlier this year, on March 25. For the past several years complications following knee surgery had left him unable to walk. But when I visited a year ago he greeted me with the same smile I remembered from his shop. He had a well-thumbed large print Bible beside his chair, which he had read from cover to cover in each of the past three years, and which gave him great comfort.
September 2017
James Shotwell: Strathroy’s Forgotten Son by Larry Peters
Between January 1873 and December 1875, the Strathroy area saw the births of three men who would make an impact on the world. George Orton, born January 10, 1873, would influence the world of sport. James Shotwell, born August 6, 1874, would change the way we understand world politics. And Arthur Currie, born December 5, 1875, would influence World War I battlefield tactics. I doubt if there was a more historically significant period in Strathroy's past. In the last few years, Orton and Currie have received well deserved recognition. Unfortunately, appreciation of Shotwell has slipped away, despite achievements that have shaped our world.
By 1900, Shotwell, who had found high school history classes terribly boring, was one of a group of scholars pioneering the scientific approach to history. They held the novel idea that one's conclusions must be based on unbiased assessment of the facts found through researching original documents. Today the old style of historical writing with its national bias has almost disappeared thanks to this group.
As managing editor of the 11th edition of Encyclopedia Britannica, Shotwell sought out experts in every field so that information came from a solid scientific approach to research. This had never been done before. At the same time, for The Times of London, he created the first background articles that would help readers more fully understand the importance of a news report. If you click on a background site on the internet, think of James Shotwell. And he developed and taught the first American course on Social and Economic History. Think of all the documentaries that have used his approach.
In 1917 Shotwell became involved in the American war effort. He convinced the government to use "Uncle Sam" as its symbol in the campaign to unite the nation in its effort to recruit soldiers. Even more important, he convinced each state to keep all the information they accumulated during the war so that a complete history could be written after the conflict ended. He also helped write background papers on the issues that a future Peace Conference would need to consider.
While at the Paris Peace Conference of 1919, Shotwell became involved in establishing the International Labour Organization to eliminate the child labour that was common in European countries after the war. The ILO, one of the few organizations created in Paris that still exists, has had a beneficial effect on the lives of countless people. Over the decade following the war, Shotwell organized and edited the Economic and Social History of the World War, which ran to 150 volumes and included input from every country involved in the conflict. Such a comprehensive history of a war had never been attempted.
As a representative of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Shotwell was seen as an "honest broker" and was able "to speak truth to power": European and American leaders knew he could get to the heart of a problem and find a solution. As the League of Nations was failing, he worked with a number of European diplomats to create the Locarno Treaty that tied the signatory countries into an alliance to avoid war that had real consequences if broken. He then convinced French cabinet minister, Briand, to offer a similar pact to the United States, thus getting the USA once more involved in European affairs. Shotwell visited all of the new countries created by the Peace Conference; he recognized the unacknowledged problems that would eventually lead to war. During the 1930s he visited Spain at the start of the Spanish Civil War, and Germany, where he witnessed a Nazi parade and rally. As well, there were trips to Japan, Korea, Manchuria and China, where he met with high-ranking politicians and diplomats. Those travels gave him a deep understanding of international problems. By this time, he probably knew more about the world's political situation than anyone.
Later, in the 1940s, Shotwell wrote a 25-volume history of Canadian-American relations. This was the first extensive history of Canada that used the scientific research method. The first International Joint Conference that brought Canadians and Americans together to discuss common issues was organized by Shotwell, a Conference that still continues and studies an ever-widening list of topics.
As the League of Nations failed and the world collapsed into another war, Shotwell formed a committee that came up with the blueprint that would become the Charter of the United Nations. Shortly after World War II ended, he warned world leaders that nuclear arms would find their way into smaller nations as technology improved. He felt this would be the great problem of future generations. On his final trip to Europe, his advice was sought by European leaders who were setting up the Organization for European Economic Co-Operation, which would become the European Economic Community we know today.
Even more interesting than this ‘short list’ of James Shotwell’s accomplishments is the story of how he was able to reach the heights of international diplomacy and scholarship. But that’s another Tale!
Between January 1873 and December 1875, the Strathroy area saw the births of three men who would make an impact on the world. George Orton, born January 10, 1873, would influence the world of sport. James Shotwell, born August 6, 1874, would change the way we understand world politics. And Arthur Currie, born December 5, 1875, would influence World War I battlefield tactics. I doubt if there was a more historically significant period in Strathroy's past. In the last few years, Orton and Currie have received well deserved recognition. Unfortunately, appreciation of Shotwell has slipped away, despite achievements that have shaped our world.
By 1900, Shotwell, who had found high school history classes terribly boring, was one of a group of scholars pioneering the scientific approach to history. They held the novel idea that one's conclusions must be based on unbiased assessment of the facts found through researching original documents. Today the old style of historical writing with its national bias has almost disappeared thanks to this group.
As managing editor of the 11th edition of Encyclopedia Britannica, Shotwell sought out experts in every field so that information came from a solid scientific approach to research. This had never been done before. At the same time, for The Times of London, he created the first background articles that would help readers more fully understand the importance of a news report. If you click on a background site on the internet, think of James Shotwell. And he developed and taught the first American course on Social and Economic History. Think of all the documentaries that have used his approach.
In 1917 Shotwell became involved in the American war effort. He convinced the government to use "Uncle Sam" as its symbol in the campaign to unite the nation in its effort to recruit soldiers. Even more important, he convinced each state to keep all the information they accumulated during the war so that a complete history could be written after the conflict ended. He also helped write background papers on the issues that a future Peace Conference would need to consider.
While at the Paris Peace Conference of 1919, Shotwell became involved in establishing the International Labour Organization to eliminate the child labour that was common in European countries after the war. The ILO, one of the few organizations created in Paris that still exists, has had a beneficial effect on the lives of countless people. Over the decade following the war, Shotwell organized and edited the Economic and Social History of the World War, which ran to 150 volumes and included input from every country involved in the conflict. Such a comprehensive history of a war had never been attempted.
As a representative of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Shotwell was seen as an "honest broker" and was able "to speak truth to power": European and American leaders knew he could get to the heart of a problem and find a solution. As the League of Nations was failing, he worked with a number of European diplomats to create the Locarno Treaty that tied the signatory countries into an alliance to avoid war that had real consequences if broken. He then convinced French cabinet minister, Briand, to offer a similar pact to the United States, thus getting the USA once more involved in European affairs. Shotwell visited all of the new countries created by the Peace Conference; he recognized the unacknowledged problems that would eventually lead to war. During the 1930s he visited Spain at the start of the Spanish Civil War, and Germany, where he witnessed a Nazi parade and rally. As well, there were trips to Japan, Korea, Manchuria and China, where he met with high-ranking politicians and diplomats. Those travels gave him a deep understanding of international problems. By this time, he probably knew more about the world's political situation than anyone.
Later, in the 1940s, Shotwell wrote a 25-volume history of Canadian-American relations. This was the first extensive history of Canada that used the scientific research method. The first International Joint Conference that brought Canadians and Americans together to discuss common issues was organized by Shotwell, a Conference that still continues and studies an ever-widening list of topics.
As the League of Nations failed and the world collapsed into another war, Shotwell formed a committee that came up with the blueprint that would become the Charter of the United Nations. Shortly after World War II ended, he warned world leaders that nuclear arms would find their way into smaller nations as technology improved. He felt this would be the great problem of future generations. On his final trip to Europe, his advice was sought by European leaders who were setting up the Organization for European Economic Co-Operation, which would become the European Economic Community we know today.
Even more interesting than this ‘short list’ of James Shotwell’s accomplishments is the story of how he was able to reach the heights of international diplomacy and scholarship. But that’s another Tale!
August 2017
Fred Eagleden: 54 years at The Age by Aileen Cnockaert
Not many people these days work in the same job for 54 years. But Fred Eagleden of The Age Dispatch was one who did. He began at The Age in 1918, three years before the newspaper merged with The Dispatch. At this time the paper was owned by the Evans Brothers, who had purchased it in 1882.
Fred was born in the Kitchener area and quit school at the age of 14 to help support his family. His father, a printer, had died when Fred was five. As a young lad of 16 he was working at a furniture factory in Strathroy when an uncle from Western Canada came to visit. Fred thought it would be an adventure to quit his job and go West with his uncle. However fate intervened when Ernie Hilton, foreman at The Age, dropped by to see Fred and asked if he’d like to learn the printing business. Fred’s visiting uncle thought this was a good opportunity and talked Fred into joining the staff at the newspaper. So on February 1, 1918, Fred began work in the four-year-old Age building at the corner of Front and Caradoc Streets. He started out sweeping floors and doing other odd jobs, but before long Fred Evans, one of the owners, was teaching him the printing trade. As he once remarked, “I was a poor speller in school but that changed in a hurry!”
Fred saw the newspaper business evolve over the years. When he started, an old gasoline engine was used to power the equipment. One of the presses he worked on was a Washington press, once owned by William Lyon Mackenzie, a political activist and Toronto’s first mayor. The press was thrown into Toronto Harbour in 1826 during an attack on Mackenzie’s newspaper shop. It was brought to The Age in the 1870s and later donated to the Museum in Strathroy. Over time, presses were gradually modernized, making Fred’s life a little easier. Newspapers are now produced and printed digitally, but in Fred’s day each letter of metal type had to be pieced together to produce a page. The page was then mounted on a Campbell press to be printed. And there were other manual chores: how many printers today can say they have fed 25,000 envelopes through a hand press?
Once asked for a favourite memory, Fred told the story of May 24, 1949 when he had the pleasure of going at an old newspaper press with a sledge hammer to make room for a new machine. Another anecdote he shared was the time the shop had eight typeset pages of a voters list locked on the press - at least they thought it was locked on. The pages worked loose and flew off the press, causing the greatest mix-up of voters names one could imagine! Fred also recalled a time when two lines from an auction sale notice, extolling the virtues of an area stud, accidentally got stuck in the middle of a card of thanks while a correction was being made.
Eventually, Fred’s wife Ila came to work at The Age as well, running the front office. She stayed for over 30 years. It was said she knew everyone’s subscription expiry date without looking it up in the file. Staff members who worked with Fred and Ila described them as the “mom and dad” of the group, since they were both such kind and friendly people. Their granddaughter, Debbie Thompson, describes them as prim and proper, very quiet and soft spoken. She remembers Ila always dressed with her pearls, gloves and heels for outings. Fred and Ila were married for over 60 years and had two children, Joyce (Miller) and Don, 6 grandchildren, and a number of great grandchildren. They built their own house on Victoria Street early in their marriage and lived there their entire lives. They never owned a car, and walked to work every day.
After Ila’s 30-plus years and Fred’s 54 years at The Age, (after 1936 under publisher Chick Spence, and then Ken Campbell since 1960), the couple decided to retire. On January 4, 1973 an open house was held in their honour. Ewart Evans, who was then 90, attended. Ewart, nephew of the Evans brothers, had originally hired Fred in 1918. The Age Dispatch reprinted the first newspaper Fred worked on, February 17, 1918, to give away at the celebration. After long lives well lived, Fred died at age 82 in 1984, and Ila passed away in 1993 at 85.
My thanks to the Eagledens’ granddaughter Debbie Thompson for chatting with me and allowing me to look through the family photo album.
Not many people these days work in the same job for 54 years. But Fred Eagleden of The Age Dispatch was one who did. He began at The Age in 1918, three years before the newspaper merged with The Dispatch. At this time the paper was owned by the Evans Brothers, who had purchased it in 1882.
Fred was born in the Kitchener area and quit school at the age of 14 to help support his family. His father, a printer, had died when Fred was five. As a young lad of 16 he was working at a furniture factory in Strathroy when an uncle from Western Canada came to visit. Fred thought it would be an adventure to quit his job and go West with his uncle. However fate intervened when Ernie Hilton, foreman at The Age, dropped by to see Fred and asked if he’d like to learn the printing business. Fred’s visiting uncle thought this was a good opportunity and talked Fred into joining the staff at the newspaper. So on February 1, 1918, Fred began work in the four-year-old Age building at the corner of Front and Caradoc Streets. He started out sweeping floors and doing other odd jobs, but before long Fred Evans, one of the owners, was teaching him the printing trade. As he once remarked, “I was a poor speller in school but that changed in a hurry!”
Fred saw the newspaper business evolve over the years. When he started, an old gasoline engine was used to power the equipment. One of the presses he worked on was a Washington press, once owned by William Lyon Mackenzie, a political activist and Toronto’s first mayor. The press was thrown into Toronto Harbour in 1826 during an attack on Mackenzie’s newspaper shop. It was brought to The Age in the 1870s and later donated to the Museum in Strathroy. Over time, presses were gradually modernized, making Fred’s life a little easier. Newspapers are now produced and printed digitally, but in Fred’s day each letter of metal type had to be pieced together to produce a page. The page was then mounted on a Campbell press to be printed. And there were other manual chores: how many printers today can say they have fed 25,000 envelopes through a hand press?
Once asked for a favourite memory, Fred told the story of May 24, 1949 when he had the pleasure of going at an old newspaper press with a sledge hammer to make room for a new machine. Another anecdote he shared was the time the shop had eight typeset pages of a voters list locked on the press - at least they thought it was locked on. The pages worked loose and flew off the press, causing the greatest mix-up of voters names one could imagine! Fred also recalled a time when two lines from an auction sale notice, extolling the virtues of an area stud, accidentally got stuck in the middle of a card of thanks while a correction was being made.
Eventually, Fred’s wife Ila came to work at The Age as well, running the front office. She stayed for over 30 years. It was said she knew everyone’s subscription expiry date without looking it up in the file. Staff members who worked with Fred and Ila described them as the “mom and dad” of the group, since they were both such kind and friendly people. Their granddaughter, Debbie Thompson, describes them as prim and proper, very quiet and soft spoken. She remembers Ila always dressed with her pearls, gloves and heels for outings. Fred and Ila were married for over 60 years and had two children, Joyce (Miller) and Don, 6 grandchildren, and a number of great grandchildren. They built their own house on Victoria Street early in their marriage and lived there their entire lives. They never owned a car, and walked to work every day.
After Ila’s 30-plus years and Fred’s 54 years at The Age, (after 1936 under publisher Chick Spence, and then Ken Campbell since 1960), the couple decided to retire. On January 4, 1973 an open house was held in their honour. Ewart Evans, who was then 90, attended. Ewart, nephew of the Evans brothers, had originally hired Fred in 1918. The Age Dispatch reprinted the first newspaper Fred worked on, February 17, 1918, to give away at the celebration. After long lives well lived, Fred died at age 82 in 1984, and Ila passed away in 1993 at 85.
My thanks to the Eagledens’ granddaughter Debbie Thompson for chatting with me and allowing me to look through the family photo album.
July 2017
IODE: A century of service by Louise Gare
At the end of June, an organization that has quietly made a huge contribution to Strathroy for over a century distributed its remaining funds to local schools and, sadly closed its doors. The local Mary Armstrong Chapter of the IODE (Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire) began in 1915, named after a much loved Colborne Street School teacher. As part of a Canadian women’s charitable organization its mission was to make a difference in the lives of children, youth and those in need.
From its inception early in World War I, the local IODE was committed to the war effort. Blanche Gibson, an early member, recalled the women – without their usual white gloves and hats – making weekly rounds of the town with horse and wagon, collecting anything that could be ‘salvaged’ and sold: scrap paper, newspapers, glass, rags, metal, grease and aluminum. There were “trench showers”, where the members made up bags of toiletries, treats and knitted socks to send to the troops overseas; and work meetings to roll bandages, sew sheets and pack towels for Red Cross work. In 1917 a three-day fundraising event, promoted as “Picadilly Circus”, was held at the Armoury. It included a bazaar, a bake sale, fortune-telling, games, and a “Jitney Dance” as the grand finale on Friday night.
With the War finally over, in 1919 the IODE welcomed returning soldiers, including General Arthur Currie, with a banquet in the Lyceum Theatre. In the early 1920s the group led a campaign to raise funds for a war memorial and gathered names to be inscribed on the monument, which was unveiled in August 1924.
It is impossible to list all the other IODE donations that have benefited different sectors of our town over time. Building funds for the West Middlesex Memorial Arena, the Hospital and the Women’s Rural Resource Centre received financial help, and the latter two continued to be on the IODE’s list for furnishings and equipment. Schools and other municipal buildings had flags donated, expressing the IODE’s pride in our country. In 1996 the IODE was at the centre of the revitalization of MacKinlay-Paul Park at Albert and Front Streets, replacing the antique fountain and designing new gardens. Research into genetic diseases was another interest. In recent years the Salvation Army, WRRC and a breakfast program at Mary Wright School have benefited from generous and regular support.
Education has always been of special interest to the organization. A program to encourage young students began in 1953 and continued until this June. Each year the student showing most improvement in every classroom was recognized. At first, only Colborne School was involved, with $5 awards; eventually this became eight schools, almost 100 classrooms and $10 each. As well, awards were presented annually at graduations and commencements in the town’s schools.
Fundraising for the numerous projects taken on by the IODE was continuous and involved great amounts of time and energy from the members. We held tag days, dances, Christmas bazaars, Poor Boy luncheons, fashion shows, teas, barbecues, concerts, and Bridge marathons.
Through the years many capable and dedicated women have held office in the IODE: Blanche Gibson, Dora Fortner, Jean Evoy, Margaret Oakes, Jean Softley, Ruth Elliott and Bea Martin, among many others. The 1950s saw a membership high of 72. Only eight members remained as the Chapter disbanded in 2017: Diane Brodie, Judy Edmunds, Louise Gare, Mary-Ann Hipple, June Jacobi, Nancy Larocque, Norma Robertson and Virginia Shanks.
So many women have been part of the rich history of the Mary Armstrong Chapter and are proud of all that has been accomplished over 102 years. We have provided a great service to our local community and to Canada. Along the way there was fun and friendship as we worked together on projects, attended monthly meetings and celebrated special occasions. It has been a journey of hard work and many blessings, and we have been fortunate to have played a part. Strathroy’s IODE rightly takes pride in a job well done!
At the end of June, an organization that has quietly made a huge contribution to Strathroy for over a century distributed its remaining funds to local schools and, sadly closed its doors. The local Mary Armstrong Chapter of the IODE (Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire) began in 1915, named after a much loved Colborne Street School teacher. As part of a Canadian women’s charitable organization its mission was to make a difference in the lives of children, youth and those in need.
From its inception early in World War I, the local IODE was committed to the war effort. Blanche Gibson, an early member, recalled the women – without their usual white gloves and hats – making weekly rounds of the town with horse and wagon, collecting anything that could be ‘salvaged’ and sold: scrap paper, newspapers, glass, rags, metal, grease and aluminum. There were “trench showers”, where the members made up bags of toiletries, treats and knitted socks to send to the troops overseas; and work meetings to roll bandages, sew sheets and pack towels for Red Cross work. In 1917 a three-day fundraising event, promoted as “Picadilly Circus”, was held at the Armoury. It included a bazaar, a bake sale, fortune-telling, games, and a “Jitney Dance” as the grand finale on Friday night.
With the War finally over, in 1919 the IODE welcomed returning soldiers, including General Arthur Currie, with a banquet in the Lyceum Theatre. In the early 1920s the group led a campaign to raise funds for a war memorial and gathered names to be inscribed on the monument, which was unveiled in August 1924.
It is impossible to list all the other IODE donations that have benefited different sectors of our town over time. Building funds for the West Middlesex Memorial Arena, the Hospital and the Women’s Rural Resource Centre received financial help, and the latter two continued to be on the IODE’s list for furnishings and equipment. Schools and other municipal buildings had flags donated, expressing the IODE’s pride in our country. In 1996 the IODE was at the centre of the revitalization of MacKinlay-Paul Park at Albert and Front Streets, replacing the antique fountain and designing new gardens. Research into genetic diseases was another interest. In recent years the Salvation Army, WRRC and a breakfast program at Mary Wright School have benefited from generous and regular support.
Education has always been of special interest to the organization. A program to encourage young students began in 1953 and continued until this June. Each year the student showing most improvement in every classroom was recognized. At first, only Colborne School was involved, with $5 awards; eventually this became eight schools, almost 100 classrooms and $10 each. As well, awards were presented annually at graduations and commencements in the town’s schools.
Fundraising for the numerous projects taken on by the IODE was continuous and involved great amounts of time and energy from the members. We held tag days, dances, Christmas bazaars, Poor Boy luncheons, fashion shows, teas, barbecues, concerts, and Bridge marathons.
Through the years many capable and dedicated women have held office in the IODE: Blanche Gibson, Dora Fortner, Jean Evoy, Margaret Oakes, Jean Softley, Ruth Elliott and Bea Martin, among many others. The 1950s saw a membership high of 72. Only eight members remained as the Chapter disbanded in 2017: Diane Brodie, Judy Edmunds, Louise Gare, Mary-Ann Hipple, June Jacobi, Nancy Larocque, Norma Robertson and Virginia Shanks.
So many women have been part of the rich history of the Mary Armstrong Chapter and are proud of all that has been accomplished over 102 years. We have provided a great service to our local community and to Canada. Along the way there was fun and friendship as we worked together on projects, attended monthly meetings and celebrated special occasions. It has been a journey of hard work and many blessings, and we have been fortunate to have played a part. Strathroy’s IODE rightly takes pride in a job well done!
June 2017
1874: A Mystery! Body Found in River by Chris Harrington
Donald “Dan” Corkindale, a well-known 22-year-old bachelor, worked as a turner at the Eakins Steam Cabinet factory. The last day he was seen alive, Dan was doing repairs in Francis Woodward’s butcher shop on Caradoc Street. He left work early, promising to finish the job in the morning.
Dan spent that evening, January 27, 1874, with several unsavory men. Local newspapers reported that he began the night drinking with William Geary and Britain Clarke at McGugan’s Hotel before moving on to several other Strathroy liquor establishments. Dan was apparently looking for John Quinn to settle a dispute. Several witnesses later testified that he was last seen alive near “The White House”, located just off the Caradoc-Adelaide town line (now Hickory Drive, between Egerton Ave. and King St.). Owned by Andrew Nelson, it had a “reputation” in town, something former Strathroy resident Stewart Lamont recalled in a 1929 letter to the Age Dispatch. It was described by many as a “house of ill-fame”, known for prostitution and other illegal activities.
On Monday, April 12 Corkindale’s body was found in the Sydenham River on Young’s Flats, about 100 yards south of the C.N.R. bridge, near present-day Ellen St. A post-mortem ordered by coroner Dr. George Billington was performed the next day by Dr. Eliphalet G. Edwards and Dr. William B. Lindsay. Because the examination determined that the body had been in the water for at least two months the doctors were unable to say for certain that death was due to drowning.
The only visible wound on Corkindale’s body was a large 1.5 inch cut over the left eye, which extended to the bone beneath. The coroner believed the injury was inflicted immediately before or at the time of death, and that it was sufficient to cause death. The doctors theorized that it might have been caused by falling on a sharp edge or by a blunt instrument. They believed that after the fatal blow the deceased lay unconscious for a period of time before the body was removed to the river.
Soon after, a public inquest was called. The following local men were selected as jurors: James Noble (jury foreman); Thomas Rapley; John Mallon; Burrows H. Rothwell; Henry Nicholson; John H. Hanley; William H. Meek; John Vanwyck; John D. Lauler; William Johnson; Henry Large; William Cross; and James Macklin. Coroner Billington summed up the evidence, and after deliberating the jury rendered their verdict: “... that the said Donald Corkindale came to his death from a wound inflicted on the orbit of the left eye, by some person or persons unknown.”
Days later, twelve people were charged with Corkindale’s murder: Britain Clarke, Margaret Burch, James Nelson, Sophia Nelson, Andrew Nelson, William Geary and six others. The prisoners were brought before Squire Lawrence Lawrason and Squire Brock Stevens at the London police court to await trial. The London Free Press reported that William Geary was overheard telling Margaret Burch in the city lock-up to “stick to the story you told at the inquest and it will be all right”.
A preliminary inquiry into the murder began in early May, 1874. Strathroy resident Ruth Bloor was a key witness for the Crown. Bloor, a neighbour who lived “about 20 rods” from the homes of James Nelson and Britain Clarke, testified that she remembered several nighttime disturbances at these houses. One in particular, towards the end of January, had someone shouting “Murder!” and a man crying out “Don’t!”. Bloor also remembered hearing people backing up a horse and sleigh - with no bells - to James Nelson’s door. In addition, the Crown prosecutors entered as evidence brass knuckles weighing nearly three pounds. Margaret Burch testified that the knuckles belonged to Britain Clarke. William Mellon, who owned a foundry in Strathroy, affirmed that he made the brass knuckles for Clarke, but that he had not completed the work until after Corkindale was murdered.
Despite the incriminating testimony, all twelve parties jailed on suspicion of involvement in the murder were released on May 16, 1874. There was insufficient evidence to warrant holding them in custody and proceeding with a trial. As far as we can determine, the case was never solved and no one else was ever charged with the suspected murder of Dan Corkindale.
Donald “Dan” Corkindale, a well-known 22-year-old bachelor, worked as a turner at the Eakins Steam Cabinet factory. The last day he was seen alive, Dan was doing repairs in Francis Woodward’s butcher shop on Caradoc Street. He left work early, promising to finish the job in the morning.
Dan spent that evening, January 27, 1874, with several unsavory men. Local newspapers reported that he began the night drinking with William Geary and Britain Clarke at McGugan’s Hotel before moving on to several other Strathroy liquor establishments. Dan was apparently looking for John Quinn to settle a dispute. Several witnesses later testified that he was last seen alive near “The White House”, located just off the Caradoc-Adelaide town line (now Hickory Drive, between Egerton Ave. and King St.). Owned by Andrew Nelson, it had a “reputation” in town, something former Strathroy resident Stewart Lamont recalled in a 1929 letter to the Age Dispatch. It was described by many as a “house of ill-fame”, known for prostitution and other illegal activities.
On Monday, April 12 Corkindale’s body was found in the Sydenham River on Young’s Flats, about 100 yards south of the C.N.R. bridge, near present-day Ellen St. A post-mortem ordered by coroner Dr. George Billington was performed the next day by Dr. Eliphalet G. Edwards and Dr. William B. Lindsay. Because the examination determined that the body had been in the water for at least two months the doctors were unable to say for certain that death was due to drowning.
The only visible wound on Corkindale’s body was a large 1.5 inch cut over the left eye, which extended to the bone beneath. The coroner believed the injury was inflicted immediately before or at the time of death, and that it was sufficient to cause death. The doctors theorized that it might have been caused by falling on a sharp edge or by a blunt instrument. They believed that after the fatal blow the deceased lay unconscious for a period of time before the body was removed to the river.
Soon after, a public inquest was called. The following local men were selected as jurors: James Noble (jury foreman); Thomas Rapley; John Mallon; Burrows H. Rothwell; Henry Nicholson; John H. Hanley; William H. Meek; John Vanwyck; John D. Lauler; William Johnson; Henry Large; William Cross; and James Macklin. Coroner Billington summed up the evidence, and after deliberating the jury rendered their verdict: “... that the said Donald Corkindale came to his death from a wound inflicted on the orbit of the left eye, by some person or persons unknown.”
Days later, twelve people were charged with Corkindale’s murder: Britain Clarke, Margaret Burch, James Nelson, Sophia Nelson, Andrew Nelson, William Geary and six others. The prisoners were brought before Squire Lawrence Lawrason and Squire Brock Stevens at the London police court to await trial. The London Free Press reported that William Geary was overheard telling Margaret Burch in the city lock-up to “stick to the story you told at the inquest and it will be all right”.
A preliminary inquiry into the murder began in early May, 1874. Strathroy resident Ruth Bloor was a key witness for the Crown. Bloor, a neighbour who lived “about 20 rods” from the homes of James Nelson and Britain Clarke, testified that she remembered several nighttime disturbances at these houses. One in particular, towards the end of January, had someone shouting “Murder!” and a man crying out “Don’t!”. Bloor also remembered hearing people backing up a horse and sleigh - with no bells - to James Nelson’s door. In addition, the Crown prosecutors entered as evidence brass knuckles weighing nearly three pounds. Margaret Burch testified that the knuckles belonged to Britain Clarke. William Mellon, who owned a foundry in Strathroy, affirmed that he made the brass knuckles for Clarke, but that he had not completed the work until after Corkindale was murdered.
Despite the incriminating testimony, all twelve parties jailed on suspicion of involvement in the murder were released on May 16, 1874. There was insufficient evidence to warrant holding them in custody and proceeding with a trial. As far as we can determine, the case was never solved and no one else was ever charged with the suspected murder of Dan Corkindale.
May 2017
The sad tale of Lawrence Cleverdon by Anne Pelkman
What led Lawrence Cleverdon, Strathroy Reeve and Middlesex County Warden, to suddenly leave town in the spring of 1887? We may never understand the details of this story, but it left its mark on many families. And it is one that we still hear too often.
Seven-year-old Lawrence emigrated from England with his parents and sister in 1844. His father died the following year and his mother, Mary, married Dennis Hodgson. Dennis, Mary and the two children moved to a log cabin on a 100 acre farm in Adelaide Township in 1856. Lawrence took over the farm when Dennis and Mary moved to Strathroy. In 1863 he married Bedena Cawrse from Metcalfe Township in a double wedding, with his sister Elizabeth marrying Bedena’s brother, Charles Cawrse Jr.
Although Lawrence expanded his farm to 200 acres, his real interest lay in business rather than farming. With John Carruthers, he built the Victoria Cheese factory on his farm in 1871. The same year he purchased a pork packing plant, a large brick building at the corner of Metcalfe and Maitland Streets, with J. Squire and J. Lenfestey. And at some point Lawrence and Charles Cawrse became partners in a grain business, owning several tall grain silos in Metcalfe Township.
When the Cleverdon family moved to Strathroy in 1872, Lawrence continued to run Victoria Cheese and bought two more cheese factories. The 1874 Strathroy business directory shows him as a purchaser on consignment of cheese, butter and bacon for export to Collett & Company of England. In September 1876 the Age reported that Lawrence Cleverdon held 8000 boxes of cheese, about 480,000 pounds, ready for shipment to Liverpool. He was providing income and employment to many in the area.
The Cleverdons bought an elegant two-storey house at 50 Oxford Street on a treed lot with an orchard and a large vegetable garden from which they sold produce. They had a large family and became active and respected members of the Methodist Church on North Street. Lawrence was a lay preacher and taught Sunday school; he chaired temperance meetings, sat on the building committee for the new church in 1879 and was a Masonic Lodge member. Although he was away often, in London and Toronto, attending to his businesses, he was elected mayor in 1877 and 1878 and served on several business-related boards in Strathroy and London.
So it was with surprise and dismay that the community learned he had left Strathroy for the United States on the evening of May 17, 1887. It seems that Lawrence was quite a gambler and had speculated heavily in the Chicago commodity futures market. After a market downturn he was unable to cover his losses, and owed a great deal of money locally, including to Charles Cawrse, who lost his Metcalfe farm. When the bank discovered that Lawrence had forged bills of lading to obtain money for cheese he had not actually delivered to England, he left Bedena and his family behind to face the music and to liquidate assets to pay their creditors. Their house (which turned out to be fully mortgaged) was sold, but they remained in the area until the following year. After the death of her father, Bedena, her seven boys and her mother-in-law left in 1888 to join Lawrence in Leavenworth, Kansas.
For several years Lawrence worked for the Leavenworth Sun newspaper, then as an insurance agent. In 1894 the Cleverdons opened a drugstore in Leavenworth, which was in the family for almost fifty years. But it was a devastating year, as two of the sons and mother Mary Cleverdon Hodgson died. They lost another son, Dr. A.E. Cleverdon, in 1898. Bedena continued to work in the family store, but in the early 1900s Lawrence was living by himself in Kansas City, involved in developing the Brighton coal mine and working on an ‘iceless icebox’. In 1911 Bedena knew where he was but had not seen him in ten years, when they received a message that he had been robbed of insurance premiums he was collecting and murdered. One of his sons went to Kansas City to identify him. Lawrence was 74 years old.
Bedena was still helping in the family business in 1917 when she was literally caught up in a tornado and suffered a broken hip. She died at the Leavenworth home of her son, Dr. Lawrence Cleverdon in 1933 at 89. Two of the Cleverdon sons had become doctors, two were pharmacists and one owned a thriving dairy and later a grocery store.
In the 1990s, the grandson of one of the Cleverdon boys came to Ontario to research the family history, and was crushed to learn the story. Through all the years, not one of the Cleverdon sons had spoken about their father’s dramatic departure from Strathroy.
What led Lawrence Cleverdon, Strathroy Reeve and Middlesex County Warden, to suddenly leave town in the spring of 1887? We may never understand the details of this story, but it left its mark on many families. And it is one that we still hear too often.
Seven-year-old Lawrence emigrated from England with his parents and sister in 1844. His father died the following year and his mother, Mary, married Dennis Hodgson. Dennis, Mary and the two children moved to a log cabin on a 100 acre farm in Adelaide Township in 1856. Lawrence took over the farm when Dennis and Mary moved to Strathroy. In 1863 he married Bedena Cawrse from Metcalfe Township in a double wedding, with his sister Elizabeth marrying Bedena’s brother, Charles Cawrse Jr.
Although Lawrence expanded his farm to 200 acres, his real interest lay in business rather than farming. With John Carruthers, he built the Victoria Cheese factory on his farm in 1871. The same year he purchased a pork packing plant, a large brick building at the corner of Metcalfe and Maitland Streets, with J. Squire and J. Lenfestey. And at some point Lawrence and Charles Cawrse became partners in a grain business, owning several tall grain silos in Metcalfe Township.
When the Cleverdon family moved to Strathroy in 1872, Lawrence continued to run Victoria Cheese and bought two more cheese factories. The 1874 Strathroy business directory shows him as a purchaser on consignment of cheese, butter and bacon for export to Collett & Company of England. In September 1876 the Age reported that Lawrence Cleverdon held 8000 boxes of cheese, about 480,000 pounds, ready for shipment to Liverpool. He was providing income and employment to many in the area.
The Cleverdons bought an elegant two-storey house at 50 Oxford Street on a treed lot with an orchard and a large vegetable garden from which they sold produce. They had a large family and became active and respected members of the Methodist Church on North Street. Lawrence was a lay preacher and taught Sunday school; he chaired temperance meetings, sat on the building committee for the new church in 1879 and was a Masonic Lodge member. Although he was away often, in London and Toronto, attending to his businesses, he was elected mayor in 1877 and 1878 and served on several business-related boards in Strathroy and London.
So it was with surprise and dismay that the community learned he had left Strathroy for the United States on the evening of May 17, 1887. It seems that Lawrence was quite a gambler and had speculated heavily in the Chicago commodity futures market. After a market downturn he was unable to cover his losses, and owed a great deal of money locally, including to Charles Cawrse, who lost his Metcalfe farm. When the bank discovered that Lawrence had forged bills of lading to obtain money for cheese he had not actually delivered to England, he left Bedena and his family behind to face the music and to liquidate assets to pay their creditors. Their house (which turned out to be fully mortgaged) was sold, but they remained in the area until the following year. After the death of her father, Bedena, her seven boys and her mother-in-law left in 1888 to join Lawrence in Leavenworth, Kansas.
For several years Lawrence worked for the Leavenworth Sun newspaper, then as an insurance agent. In 1894 the Cleverdons opened a drugstore in Leavenworth, which was in the family for almost fifty years. But it was a devastating year, as two of the sons and mother Mary Cleverdon Hodgson died. They lost another son, Dr. A.E. Cleverdon, in 1898. Bedena continued to work in the family store, but in the early 1900s Lawrence was living by himself in Kansas City, involved in developing the Brighton coal mine and working on an ‘iceless icebox’. In 1911 Bedena knew where he was but had not seen him in ten years, when they received a message that he had been robbed of insurance premiums he was collecting and murdered. One of his sons went to Kansas City to identify him. Lawrence was 74 years old.
Bedena was still helping in the family business in 1917 when she was literally caught up in a tornado and suffered a broken hip. She died at the Leavenworth home of her son, Dr. Lawrence Cleverdon in 1933 at 89. Two of the Cleverdon sons had become doctors, two were pharmacists and one owned a thriving dairy and later a grocery store.
In the 1990s, the grandson of one of the Cleverdon boys came to Ontario to research the family history, and was crushed to learn the story. Through all the years, not one of the Cleverdon sons had spoken about their father’s dramatic departure from Strathroy.
April 2017
Wet vs. Dry (Round Two) by John Brennan
Starting in May 1910, Strathroy was “Dry”. No alcohol could be purchased, legally, within town. Voters, at that time all men, had decided the issue by referendum and most people thought the issue had been settled. They were wrong.
Three years later the “Wet” forces demanded, and got, a chance to reverse the 1910 decision. After all, beer was still produced in town, it just couldn’t be sold locally. Bootlegging was common. The Age remarked “Forbidding a man to not buy beer in a town where it is made, is something akin to tying him out in a rainstorm and ordering him not to get wet.” In fact, it seems many were still consuming alcohol on the sly to the outrage of the sober majority who pressured Council to take action. “It is said that some people are anxious to have an inspector appointed with power to search private cellars. If they succeed in their desires, I tremble for the reputation of some of our townsmen, should the result of the search be made public.”
The Age seemed to delight in fanning the flames of controversy, never missing a chance to poke fun at local hypocrisy, or the extent to which some Strathroyans would go to get a drink now that the local watering holes had evaporated. The paper remarked with amusement that “picnics” to Wet towns such as Glencoe, Watford, Parkhill, and Delaware were now the rage and that the lunch basket was now a favourite badge of certain people.
Strathroy now contained 3,115 inhabitants, it was reported, now “all Indians” – an apparent reference to the prohibition of serving alcohol to Canada’s indigenous people. In fact, Local Option beer was now reported to be the popular, legal form of 'suds'. It had about one-third the alcohol of regular beer. One would have to drink three glasses to get something similar to the effect of one glass of the old style brew. At that rate, one wag remarked, "tailors may be pressed to extend waistcoats!"
The 1913 campaign had one public meeting at which “no mud was slung.” The Anti-Prohibition forces argued the 1910 Local Option vote was a failure and only encouraged the sly drinking of spirits. The prevalence of the “bottle habit” had not declined in three years and Councillor McCandless mentioned the urgency of seeking better enforcement of the law, especially in regard to drinking from bottles in secret places (they were called “Blind Pigs”) and the presence of intoxicated persons occasionally found in the streets. It was pointed out that since prohibition had taken effect in town, convictions in Police Court had risen from 96 from 1907-09 to 139 from 1910-12 in spite of a population decrease of 152 from 3,116 to 2,964.
Both sides made religious arguments to support their positions. The Antis claimed there was nothing in scripture to warrant the prohibition of the sale of strong drink, only warnings to those who would drink to excess. They reminded the voters that “Our Saviour himself gave wine to the guests at the marriage feast.” The Temperance forces portrayed alcohol, once again, as the foe of the home and the church and the school. Edgar M. Zavitz implored fellow citizens to “Vote out the dark era of drink’s desolation, Vote in the glorious reign of Christ.” Bars were depicted as “low gilded palaces of guilt and temptation.”
“Banish the bar! ‘Tis the bane of our nation!
Blot out the drinking dens from our fair land,
The bar of all bars to our manhood’s salvation,
Blighting souls the great God in his own image planned.”
The moral appeals of the Prohibitionists held sway and in the fall of 1913 there were 437 votes cast in favour of keeping the town Dry and only 343 thirsty souls who voted for ending the liquor drought. And even then, nothing was final since the Province of Ontario was planning a province-wide referendum on Prohibition, and that vote would be held in 1919.
Starting in May 1910, Strathroy was “Dry”. No alcohol could be purchased, legally, within town. Voters, at that time all men, had decided the issue by referendum and most people thought the issue had been settled. They were wrong.
Three years later the “Wet” forces demanded, and got, a chance to reverse the 1910 decision. After all, beer was still produced in town, it just couldn’t be sold locally. Bootlegging was common. The Age remarked “Forbidding a man to not buy beer in a town where it is made, is something akin to tying him out in a rainstorm and ordering him not to get wet.” In fact, it seems many were still consuming alcohol on the sly to the outrage of the sober majority who pressured Council to take action. “It is said that some people are anxious to have an inspector appointed with power to search private cellars. If they succeed in their desires, I tremble for the reputation of some of our townsmen, should the result of the search be made public.”
The Age seemed to delight in fanning the flames of controversy, never missing a chance to poke fun at local hypocrisy, or the extent to which some Strathroyans would go to get a drink now that the local watering holes had evaporated. The paper remarked with amusement that “picnics” to Wet towns such as Glencoe, Watford, Parkhill, and Delaware were now the rage and that the lunch basket was now a favourite badge of certain people.
Strathroy now contained 3,115 inhabitants, it was reported, now “all Indians” – an apparent reference to the prohibition of serving alcohol to Canada’s indigenous people. In fact, Local Option beer was now reported to be the popular, legal form of 'suds'. It had about one-third the alcohol of regular beer. One would have to drink three glasses to get something similar to the effect of one glass of the old style brew. At that rate, one wag remarked, "tailors may be pressed to extend waistcoats!"
The 1913 campaign had one public meeting at which “no mud was slung.” The Anti-Prohibition forces argued the 1910 Local Option vote was a failure and only encouraged the sly drinking of spirits. The prevalence of the “bottle habit” had not declined in three years and Councillor McCandless mentioned the urgency of seeking better enforcement of the law, especially in regard to drinking from bottles in secret places (they were called “Blind Pigs”) and the presence of intoxicated persons occasionally found in the streets. It was pointed out that since prohibition had taken effect in town, convictions in Police Court had risen from 96 from 1907-09 to 139 from 1910-12 in spite of a population decrease of 152 from 3,116 to 2,964.
Both sides made religious arguments to support their positions. The Antis claimed there was nothing in scripture to warrant the prohibition of the sale of strong drink, only warnings to those who would drink to excess. They reminded the voters that “Our Saviour himself gave wine to the guests at the marriage feast.” The Temperance forces portrayed alcohol, once again, as the foe of the home and the church and the school. Edgar M. Zavitz implored fellow citizens to “Vote out the dark era of drink’s desolation, Vote in the glorious reign of Christ.” Bars were depicted as “low gilded palaces of guilt and temptation.”
“Banish the bar! ‘Tis the bane of our nation!
Blot out the drinking dens from our fair land,
The bar of all bars to our manhood’s salvation,
Blighting souls the great God in his own image planned.”
The moral appeals of the Prohibitionists held sway and in the fall of 1913 there were 437 votes cast in favour of keeping the town Dry and only 343 thirsty souls who voted for ending the liquor drought. And even then, nothing was final since the Province of Ontario was planning a province-wide referendum on Prohibition, and that vote would be held in 1919.
March 2017
Treading the Cinder Path by Libby McLachlan
With the death of Charlotte Rapley in 2008 at the age of 106, a once common surname in Strathroy disappeared. The Rapleys first settled in Adelaide in the 1830s, and a number from the next generations were prominent in town life. Charlotte was the only child of Herbert and Mary Rapley. She studied at the University of Toronto and graduated in 1925 in Household Science, leading to a long career at Strathroy Hospital as a dietician. Even at age 100 she could clearly recall the people and history of her home town in great detail.
What follows are excerpts from a brief memoir which Charlotte titled “Treading the Cinder Path”, from Caradoc Street up the hill to S.C.I., in which she reminisces about the high schools in Strathroy.
“In 1886 Mr. J.E. Wetherall came as principal to the Strathroy Collegiate Institute, situated on High Street – between Caradoc and Princess Street – where now sits the Salvation Army Citadel. After 20 years – in 1906 – Mr. Wetherall left Strathroy to become Inspector of Collegiates in Toronto. Before going he made the remark that Strathroy needed a new school, or it would have to return to High School Status.
“Between 1906 and 1913, great discussions went on regarding the location of the new school . . . [it was] built and ready by the end of 1913. The pupils of the old school went to the new school before the Christmas Holidays and were given a tour of the building – so that they would know where they should go after the holidays. The first day of school in January 1914 all met at the old building on High Street and paraded through town to the new school on Kittredge Street. The official opening was held in February 1914 and the Public School pupils were given a half day holiday to attend the ceremonies . . .
“I began at the Collegiate in September 1916 – the school then was two years old. In those years – at the Public School – the classes were called Junior and Senior First Book, Second, Third and Fourth – one year spent in each class – which corresponded to the present First to Eight Grades. Also in High School – instead of grades – there was First, Second etc. Forms, Fifth Form being the present Grade Thirteen.
“In 1916 there were five teachers . . . 1916 was the first year that there were so many pupils attending in their first year that an extra teacher was hired and we were divided into A and B First Forms.
“There were no buses to school in those days. Everyone in town, even those living in the vicinity of present Strathmere Lodge, walked to school. Those from that distance brought their own lunches to eat at noon – others in town went home at 12 noon – and back again for classes at 1:30 pm. Classes were from 9 am to 12, and 1:30 to 4 pm with a 15 minute recess break during the morning and again around 3 pm. People who came from the country were usually driven to school in the morning and picked up again after 4 pm by family members. This would be in the spring and autumn, but in the winter weather most of them boarded in town, to attend school. Some came from Komoka and would come on the train, as in those days – we had excellent train service – both east and west trains arrived in time for school and they could be home again in time for supper, or even to help with the chores!
“The girls were all called Miss so and so by the male teachers and the boys were called by their last names. We had an excellent basketball team – both boys and girls. They were usually tops when they played against other schools – particularly Watford.
“I graduated in June 1921, and we had no graduation exercises in those days in either Public or High Schools and thought nothing of it. I have read some place that the motto of the old School was - `Live to Learn and Learn to Live`.”
With the death of Charlotte Rapley in 2008 at the age of 106, a once common surname in Strathroy disappeared. The Rapleys first settled in Adelaide in the 1830s, and a number from the next generations were prominent in town life. Charlotte was the only child of Herbert and Mary Rapley. She studied at the University of Toronto and graduated in 1925 in Household Science, leading to a long career at Strathroy Hospital as a dietician. Even at age 100 she could clearly recall the people and history of her home town in great detail.
What follows are excerpts from a brief memoir which Charlotte titled “Treading the Cinder Path”, from Caradoc Street up the hill to S.C.I., in which she reminisces about the high schools in Strathroy.
“In 1886 Mr. J.E. Wetherall came as principal to the Strathroy Collegiate Institute, situated on High Street – between Caradoc and Princess Street – where now sits the Salvation Army Citadel. After 20 years – in 1906 – Mr. Wetherall left Strathroy to become Inspector of Collegiates in Toronto. Before going he made the remark that Strathroy needed a new school, or it would have to return to High School Status.
“Between 1906 and 1913, great discussions went on regarding the location of the new school . . . [it was] built and ready by the end of 1913. The pupils of the old school went to the new school before the Christmas Holidays and were given a tour of the building – so that they would know where they should go after the holidays. The first day of school in January 1914 all met at the old building on High Street and paraded through town to the new school on Kittredge Street. The official opening was held in February 1914 and the Public School pupils were given a half day holiday to attend the ceremonies . . .
“I began at the Collegiate in September 1916 – the school then was two years old. In those years – at the Public School – the classes were called Junior and Senior First Book, Second, Third and Fourth – one year spent in each class – which corresponded to the present First to Eight Grades. Also in High School – instead of grades – there was First, Second etc. Forms, Fifth Form being the present Grade Thirteen.
“In 1916 there were five teachers . . . 1916 was the first year that there were so many pupils attending in their first year that an extra teacher was hired and we were divided into A and B First Forms.
“There were no buses to school in those days. Everyone in town, even those living in the vicinity of present Strathmere Lodge, walked to school. Those from that distance brought their own lunches to eat at noon – others in town went home at 12 noon – and back again for classes at 1:30 pm. Classes were from 9 am to 12, and 1:30 to 4 pm with a 15 minute recess break during the morning and again around 3 pm. People who came from the country were usually driven to school in the morning and picked up again after 4 pm by family members. This would be in the spring and autumn, but in the winter weather most of them boarded in town, to attend school. Some came from Komoka and would come on the train, as in those days – we had excellent train service – both east and west trains arrived in time for school and they could be home again in time for supper, or even to help with the chores!
“The girls were all called Miss so and so by the male teachers and the boys were called by their last names. We had an excellent basketball team – both boys and girls. They were usually tops when they played against other schools – particularly Watford.
“I graduated in June 1921, and we had no graduation exercises in those days in either Public or High Schools and thought nothing of it. I have read some place that the motto of the old School was - `Live to Learn and Learn to Live`.”
February 2017
Settling the West – Birmingham, Saskatchewan By Crystal Loyst
Many people have inhabited the land that is now Saskatchewan, from the Assiniboine and Cree to the Voyageurs and the Hudson's Bay Company fur traders. By the late 1890s there was an influx of European immigrants: Ukrainians, Doukhobors, Finns, Germans, Hungarians, Hutterites, Icelanders, Mormons, Polish, Scandinavians and Swedes were establishing unique cultural settlements throughout the land. When Saskatchewan became a province in 1905, along with Alberta, it had grown by leaps and bounds under Prime Minister Wilfred Laurier.
Settlers had many reasons for coming to the vast land of the prairies, including greater economic opportunity, improved quality of life, and escape from oppression and persecution. And there was always the thrill of adventure that lured many people to start fresh in a new place. The land was relativity inexpensive and with the completion of the railway in the 1880s travelling to the west was easier.
Our story starts in the early 1900s with a group of local men with a vision. Thomas Baird Welch, a local druggist, Charles Wright, a hardware store merchant, and J. D. Strumbert, along with men from Petrolia purchased several thousand acres of land in the Qu’Appelle valley, between Indian Head and Yorkton, with the intention of creating a new town called Birmingham. By 1907 they had created the Birmingham Reality Co. to advertise land to potential settlers. This new town would be located on the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway about 400 km west of Winnipeg. To attract settlers, their promotional material in the local newspaper, The Age, included a map and lines such as “The Town is so situated as to have splendid drainage, a very important feature in prairie towns” and “Lake Birmingham, about half a mile distant, is a beautiful sheet of water and should become a popular summer resort where good boating, shooting and fishing can be indulged”. Judging by all the references to water they did not want the people of Strathroy to have any concerns when it came to water supply.
The town was not just on paper. T. B. Welch and his business partners ventured out to the site numerous times between 1907 and 1908. By the end of the first summer they had built a hotel, general store, schoolhouse and church and had sold a large number of lots. A post office was granted by Ottawa in December 1907 and T. B. Welch was the first postmaster, from March to August 1908. Other proposed additions to the town included a court house, livery, planning mill, and lumber yard. They also named the streets: Wright, Dampier, and Oxford, similar to those of Strathroy. The Grand Trunk Pacific Railway erected a station 10 km away in the town of Melville, so there would be ample connection to “the outside world”.
By 1908 The Age was claiming that Birmingham “would be a big place someday. At least it has got a good start and present prospects are rosy for its future growth and prosperity.” But after 1908 mention of the town in the newspaper seems to dry up. We know that Welch moved back to Strathroy for a few years and became heavily involved in the military before the First World War. By 1911 he and his family had settled in Windsor and had left the lure of the west for other adventurers. Charles Wright did move out to Birmingham. In the 1916 census he is listed as a hardware merchant there, along with 34 other people, mostly of Austrian descent. By 1921 Wright and his family had moved 40 minutes southeast to Dubuc, Saskatchewan to continue his hardware business.
As for Birmingham, the post office closed in 1970, and today you may not even notice that you passed by on Hwy 15. Besides a Ukrainian Orthodox cemetery you will find a few older homes. The only street name left is Dapuire (Dampier). However, it all started with a dream of adventure and opportunity by a number of people from Strathroy.
Many people have inhabited the land that is now Saskatchewan, from the Assiniboine and Cree to the Voyageurs and the Hudson's Bay Company fur traders. By the late 1890s there was an influx of European immigrants: Ukrainians, Doukhobors, Finns, Germans, Hungarians, Hutterites, Icelanders, Mormons, Polish, Scandinavians and Swedes were establishing unique cultural settlements throughout the land. When Saskatchewan became a province in 1905, along with Alberta, it had grown by leaps and bounds under Prime Minister Wilfred Laurier.
Settlers had many reasons for coming to the vast land of the prairies, including greater economic opportunity, improved quality of life, and escape from oppression and persecution. And there was always the thrill of adventure that lured many people to start fresh in a new place. The land was relativity inexpensive and with the completion of the railway in the 1880s travelling to the west was easier.
Our story starts in the early 1900s with a group of local men with a vision. Thomas Baird Welch, a local druggist, Charles Wright, a hardware store merchant, and J. D. Strumbert, along with men from Petrolia purchased several thousand acres of land in the Qu’Appelle valley, between Indian Head and Yorkton, with the intention of creating a new town called Birmingham. By 1907 they had created the Birmingham Reality Co. to advertise land to potential settlers. This new town would be located on the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway about 400 km west of Winnipeg. To attract settlers, their promotional material in the local newspaper, The Age, included a map and lines such as “The Town is so situated as to have splendid drainage, a very important feature in prairie towns” and “Lake Birmingham, about half a mile distant, is a beautiful sheet of water and should become a popular summer resort where good boating, shooting and fishing can be indulged”. Judging by all the references to water they did not want the people of Strathroy to have any concerns when it came to water supply.
The town was not just on paper. T. B. Welch and his business partners ventured out to the site numerous times between 1907 and 1908. By the end of the first summer they had built a hotel, general store, schoolhouse and church and had sold a large number of lots. A post office was granted by Ottawa in December 1907 and T. B. Welch was the first postmaster, from March to August 1908. Other proposed additions to the town included a court house, livery, planning mill, and lumber yard. They also named the streets: Wright, Dampier, and Oxford, similar to those of Strathroy. The Grand Trunk Pacific Railway erected a station 10 km away in the town of Melville, so there would be ample connection to “the outside world”.
By 1908 The Age was claiming that Birmingham “would be a big place someday. At least it has got a good start and present prospects are rosy for its future growth and prosperity.” But after 1908 mention of the town in the newspaper seems to dry up. We know that Welch moved back to Strathroy for a few years and became heavily involved in the military before the First World War. By 1911 he and his family had settled in Windsor and had left the lure of the west for other adventurers. Charles Wright did move out to Birmingham. In the 1916 census he is listed as a hardware merchant there, along with 34 other people, mostly of Austrian descent. By 1921 Wright and his family had moved 40 minutes southeast to Dubuc, Saskatchewan to continue his hardware business.
As for Birmingham, the post office closed in 1970, and today you may not even notice that you passed by on Hwy 15. Besides a Ukrainian Orthodox cemetery you will find a few older homes. The only street name left is Dapuire (Dampier). However, it all started with a dream of adventure and opportunity by a number of people from Strathroy.
January 2017
Strathroy Goes Metric – Reluctantly by Chris Harrington
"Give that to me in Fahrenheit", my dad always used to say. Being born after metrication in Canada, I lived in a world of centimetres, litres and Celsius, whereas my baby boomer father was familiar with inches, gallons and Fahrenheit. Often it seemed like we were speaking two different languages. Strathroy had similar struggles when Canada converted to the metric system. Located about 75 kilometres (just under 50 miles) from the United States border, Strathroy hesitantly embraced Canada’s new standard of measurement during the 1970s.
Metrication in Canada began with the formation of the Metric Commission, in 1971, under Pierre Trudeau’s Liberal government. One of the major forces for change was international trade. In an 11 April 1974 editorial, the Age Dispatch quoted from the Metric Commission’s first report that 94% of the world’s population (99.8% excluding the USA) was already using the metric system. The editorial offered the main argument for change: the United States was well on its way to converting to metric measurement. In August 1973, the U.S. Senate had unanimously approved the Metric Conversion Act and it was thought that Canada couldn’t afford not to make the conversion if our largest trading partner was ‘going metric’.
School age children were looked upon as the stewards of change. Metric Week took place over January 14-18, 1974 at Colborne Street Public School. With instruction from resource teachers from the Middlesex County Board of Education, students like Lenny Vanes, Bonnie Blair, Andrea Thyret, Ingrid vanDyk, Caroline Steele, Michelle Waun, and Randy Wells took part in exercises such as measuring their height using metre sticks, and the circumference of their heads using centimetres. Their principal, Cam Brown, felt that metric was the system of the future, so students should be familiar with it before its use became widespread.
As gradual implementation of the metric system progressed in the 1970s, there were instances of community members attempting to learn the new system. At a regular meeting of the United Church Women in South Caradoc on 13 May 1975, Betty Smith spoke to the ladies about metric. She taught the group by having each of them guess, then measure, liquids in litres; then measure their height, waist, head, ankle, and wrist in centimetres.
There was plenty of local resistance to this new system. When a reduction in the speed limit (from 30 miles per hour to 25) was approved by the town in March 1975, there was much debate in the newspaper’s editorial page about whether to go ahead with posting speed limit signs in kilometres. It was pointed out that miles per hour signs would need to be replaced with kilometres within a few years. One editorial, written by Bob Mills, suggested that Strathroy should seize on this opportunity to be the first town in the province, or even the country, to fully convert to metric traffic signs. But Strathroy politicians resisted the call to be an early adopter of metric road signs and the province went ahead two years later, mandating that all posted speed limit signs be changed by 6 September 1977.
Although one of the major reasons Canada started on the road to metrication was the belief that the U.S. would adopt the system, the American changeover was never to be. When Congress passed the Metric Conversion Act of 1975, the U.S. Metric Board was charged with overseeing the voluntary conversion process. Alas, the Board quickly discovered that neither the American public nor Congress had an interest in making this change. In the fall of 1982, the U.S. Metric Board was disestablished and our American neighbours have continued to use their customary units of measurement. The people of Strathroy, as well as Canadians at large, have ever since tried to come to terms with a world that requires them to understand both Canadian metric as well as the American imperial system of measurement.
"Give that to me in Fahrenheit", my dad always used to say. Being born after metrication in Canada, I lived in a world of centimetres, litres and Celsius, whereas my baby boomer father was familiar with inches, gallons and Fahrenheit. Often it seemed like we were speaking two different languages. Strathroy had similar struggles when Canada converted to the metric system. Located about 75 kilometres (just under 50 miles) from the United States border, Strathroy hesitantly embraced Canada’s new standard of measurement during the 1970s.
Metrication in Canada began with the formation of the Metric Commission, in 1971, under Pierre Trudeau’s Liberal government. One of the major forces for change was international trade. In an 11 April 1974 editorial, the Age Dispatch quoted from the Metric Commission’s first report that 94% of the world’s population (99.8% excluding the USA) was already using the metric system. The editorial offered the main argument for change: the United States was well on its way to converting to metric measurement. In August 1973, the U.S. Senate had unanimously approved the Metric Conversion Act and it was thought that Canada couldn’t afford not to make the conversion if our largest trading partner was ‘going metric’.
School age children were looked upon as the stewards of change. Metric Week took place over January 14-18, 1974 at Colborne Street Public School. With instruction from resource teachers from the Middlesex County Board of Education, students like Lenny Vanes, Bonnie Blair, Andrea Thyret, Ingrid vanDyk, Caroline Steele, Michelle Waun, and Randy Wells took part in exercises such as measuring their height using metre sticks, and the circumference of their heads using centimetres. Their principal, Cam Brown, felt that metric was the system of the future, so students should be familiar with it before its use became widespread.
As gradual implementation of the metric system progressed in the 1970s, there were instances of community members attempting to learn the new system. At a regular meeting of the United Church Women in South Caradoc on 13 May 1975, Betty Smith spoke to the ladies about metric. She taught the group by having each of them guess, then measure, liquids in litres; then measure their height, waist, head, ankle, and wrist in centimetres.
There was plenty of local resistance to this new system. When a reduction in the speed limit (from 30 miles per hour to 25) was approved by the town in March 1975, there was much debate in the newspaper’s editorial page about whether to go ahead with posting speed limit signs in kilometres. It was pointed out that miles per hour signs would need to be replaced with kilometres within a few years. One editorial, written by Bob Mills, suggested that Strathroy should seize on this opportunity to be the first town in the province, or even the country, to fully convert to metric traffic signs. But Strathroy politicians resisted the call to be an early adopter of metric road signs and the province went ahead two years later, mandating that all posted speed limit signs be changed by 6 September 1977.
Although one of the major reasons Canada started on the road to metrication was the belief that the U.S. would adopt the system, the American changeover was never to be. When Congress passed the Metric Conversion Act of 1975, the U.S. Metric Board was charged with overseeing the voluntary conversion process. Alas, the Board quickly discovered that neither the American public nor Congress had an interest in making this change. In the fall of 1982, the U.S. Metric Board was disestablished and our American neighbours have continued to use their customary units of measurement. The people of Strathroy, as well as Canadians at large, have ever since tried to come to terms with a world that requires them to understand both Canadian metric as well as the American imperial system of measurement.
On 14 March 1979, Lynne Quigley’s Shell Self-Serve Station on Caradoc Street South was the first Strathroy gas station to make the mandated change to post gasoline prices in litres instead of gallons. Lynne displays the new price (20.4 cents per litre for leaded regular) as contractor George DePapp of Lambeth replaces the mechanism at the pumps.
Photo courtesy of Museum Strathroy-Caradoc.