1914-Jan 13 Cold Spell

   “With the temperature hovering somewhere around 18 degrees below zero, Hamilton awoke this morning to find itself in the grip of the first real cold spell of the season.”

Hamilton Spectator. January 13, 1914¹

Tuesday January 13, 1914 was not only a bitterly cold day in Hamilton, it was one of the coldest January 13ths in the memory of the even the oldest city inhabitant.

The previous day had not been exceptionally cold for a January day, but as the dusk fell during the early evening, the mercury in city thermometers also began to fall.

As reported in the Hamilton Spectator : at 2 o’clock this morning, it (the mercury) registered 18 degrees below zero and threatened to go clean through the glass.” ¹

¹ “City Shivers Under Year’s Coldest Spell : Bitter Weather Was Cause of Much Suffering : Temperature Dropped to 18 Below Zero”

Hamilton Spectator. January 13, 1914.

By the time daylight had settled over the city, the mercury in city’s thermometer’s had risen to give readings of a balmy minus 15 degrees Fahrenheit.

By 11 a.m., minus 12 degrees F. was the reading at which point a Spectator reporter was sent outside to observe and report of what he saw on Hamilton city streets:

“Even at 12 degrees below zero, it was too cold for comfort, and, not a few people fell victim to Jack Frost’s sharp jabs. Dozens of people were treated for frost bite, and a man whose name could not be ascertained had his hands frozen while on the way to work. He was treated by Dr. R. H. Paterson and was able to return home.

“It was a common sight to see men on the street suddenly stop and grab hold of an ear, and then realizing that quick action was necessary, rub it vigorously with snow. Not a few had the ends of their noses or their fingers frostbitten, but a brisk rubbing with a little snow for a moment or two soon restored circulation.”¹

Hamilton homes and businesses were heated with wood or coal, but also many places were heated with natural gas, and for the latter group, January 13^th’s cold assault was augmented by low gas supply :

“To make things more interesting, just about the time that Mr. Hamiltonian was thrusting one foot out of bed, only to draw it back hastily beneath the bed clothes, the gas got fractious, and absolutely refused to run or even amble through the pipes in many sections.

“The consequence was that any number of folks were forced to do without the usual gas fire, and dressed hastily in chilly bedrooms, while their teeth chattered like castanets. There was scarcely enough gas to boil an egg.”¹

A Hamilton official with the Ontario Pipe Line company absolutely denied that there was anything wrong with the gas supply, and suggested that the widespread low pressure was the result of poor pressure caused by the heavy gas demand because of the cold spell, and more so because so many homes did not use gas overnight, but turned it on first this in the morning.

The weather was just as cold, if not colder, in the northern areas of Wentworth County where the poet Robert Kernighan, aka The Khan, was moved to write the following :

“ THE COLD

He’s older than the moon – the same old moon –

  He’s old, old, old !

He singeth still a tune – the same old tune –

  ‘I’m cold-cold-cold!”

He scattereth his frost before like ashes,

  Beneath him many a drift is rolled;

And through the icicles that fringe his gray mustaches

  He crieth : ‘I am cold-cold-cold.’

He crosseth many a mountain, plain and channel,

  Before him all our folk retire.

They shield themselves with feathers, fur and flannel,

  He is a devil, and they fight with fire –

With roaring fires, and all our world is stoking:

  Behind the flame the sullen world is bold;

And ever and anon we hear him croaking :

  ‘I am the cold-cold-cold!’

As conqueror the empty pasture hails him,

  The snapping fences with his praises ring,

But still he knows a tireless foeman trails him,

  A sure avenger, and his name is Spring.

But ere the giant shall be overtaken,

  In many a crannied home he’ll find his goal;

In triumph he will cry with voice unshaken:

  ‘I shall take my toll-toll-toll!’

And in his victim’s ears I hear him sighing:

  ‘Fear no harm-harm-harm/

This is the easiest, sweetest way of dying!

  Ye are warm-warm-warm!’

He is strong – his captives are yet stronger:

  They struggle free, and then their eyes behold

The summer tents of God, and then no longer

  Are they cold-cold-cold.²

² Chronicles by the Khan” Hamilton Herald January 14, 1914.

Despite the cold, the Khan ventured forth from his favourite writing location, the log cabin known as the Wigwam, situated behind the Kernighan home in Rockton. Putting his latest poem in an envelop, addressed to a downtown Hamilton newspaper office, the Khan went back to the warmth of his home, knowing that his latest poetic creation would soon be read in Hamilton, and then all across Canada.