1914-08-17af

“The largest crowd that ever assembled in the city of Hamilton was at Dundurn park last night when the band of the Ninety-First regiment under the direction of Bandmaster Stares gave a concert, the program of which consisted of patriotic and sacred music.”

          Hamilton Spectator.  August 17, 1914.

          It was estimated that over 20,000 people were in Dundurn park on Sunday evening, August 16, 1914 when a patriotic concert began with the playing of God Save the King:

          “The head of every man in the crowd was bared while the national anthem was being played. The people did not join in the singing with as much vim as was expected, but they showed greatest enthusiasm.”¹

¹ “Patriotic Concert : Over 20,000 People Listened to 91^st Band in Dundurn Park”

Hamilton Spectator. August 17, 1914.

The concert had been scheduled to begin at 8:30 p.m. but long before that time, large numbers of people were making their way along York street to the park as early as 7 p.m.:

“Extra cars which the street railway company put on the York street line were unable to handle the crowds. Every roadway through the park was lined with automobiles and the streets bordering on the park were also lined with automobiles.

“People who had seen gatherings of all kinds in the city for the past 40 years claim that it was the largest by far that they ever saw and one thing is certain, no event in Hamilton drew so many autos.”¹

To help further purpose of the event, which was to collect donation for the hospital ship fund, a large number of boy scouts volunteered their services :

“The boy scouts were on hand early, having paraded from their headquarters at 7:30, and they started on their errand of passing around the collection boxes for the hospital ship long before the band arrived.”¹

After the concert, the huge crowd dispersed in a happily and in an orderly manner:

“York street was thronged with people walking down, the middle of the road proving just as well patronized as the sidewalk.

“It was a truly patriotic crowd that turned out to listen to a program of patriotic music and the thanks of the citizens are due to the members of the band, who gave their services generously for so noble a cause.”¹

There had been a problem at Dundurn Park that evening. The refreshment booth at the pavilion was in charge of the men who had leased it from the City of Hamilton. A number of chairs were set up inside the pavilion for general use.

The operators of the refreshment booth took it upon themselves to decide who and who should not be allowed to use the pavilion’s furnishings:

“During the 91^st band concert, they drove tired women and children from the chairs and tables when they refused to purchase ice cream or other refreshments.

“One case reported was that of two women, one of them being well up in years, who were occupying chairs near the refreshment stand. One of the men from the booth ordered the women to vacate the chairs, and when a man who was standing nearby interfered on their behalf, and advised the women to remain in their seats, as the chairs were the property of the city, the refreshment man became quite insulting and advised the man to mind his own business, stating at the same time that the chairs were the property of the booth owners, and not the city.

“The women, rather than have further trouble, vacated the chairs, and remained standing the balance of the evening. Many others were ordered to vacate their chairs. Some refused, others complied, while some, in order to hold their seats, ordered ice cream or other refreshments.”²

² “For the Public : Chairs and Tables at Dundurn Are Owned by City.”

Hamilton Spectator. August 17, 1914

The morning after the concert, Archie Kappele, secretary of the works department, told the Spectator that the chairs and tables were property of the city, “ ‘and were placed there for the convenience of citizens who visit Dundurn park,’ he said.”²

The ladies in charge of raising sufficient funds for the hospital ship told the press that $122 had been collected at the Dundurn park concert. The major fund-raising effort had been the previous day when “patriotic and loyal women” worked from early morning to late at night, visiting every corner of the city asking for donations. More than $5,000 was raised that day.

One volunteer assisting the ladies on Saturday was a young boy in Gore Park:

“One of the most interesting figures seen in the canvass was Master Reginald Herbert Drayton, a little lad of five years, who was attired as a sailor boy, and presided over a miniature ship near the Queen’s monument.

“All through the afternoon, the little fellow stayed at his post, and at the close of the day, over twenty-five dollars was found in his collection box.”³

³ “Fine Response to Hospital Fund Appeal : People Contributed Liberally to Worthy Cause”

Hamilton Spectator. August 17, 1914

1914-08-29

“Soul-stirring scenes were enacted at the T. H. & B. station last night when the third detachment of Hamilton citizen-soldiers left for the front amid the cheers of an immense crowd.”

          Hamilton Spectator.   August 29, 1914.

          The vicinity of the Toronto, Hamilton and Buffalo Railway station on Hunter street was densely crowded for more than three hours during the evening of August 28, 1914.

More than 200 men who were members of the Fourth field battery of Hamilton, or of the 33^rd howitzers also of Hamilton, were scheduled to depart. They were joined by 33 members of the howitzer battery raised in Brantford.

It was expected that the train would leave at 6 p.m., but it was after 9 o’clock before it pulled out:

“Most of those present in the crowd had been waiting patiently for hours but they felt rewarded then. A slight drizzle had set in by that time, but this did not in the least dampen the ardor of the crowd present, and the men were given a rousing send-off.”¹

¹ “Cheers Rend the Air As Soldiers Leave : An Immense Throng Joins in Hearty Send-Off : Pathetic Scenes at Depot As Batteries Depart”

Hamilton Spectator.   August 29, 1914

The Spectator reporter who watched the departure vividly captured what transpired as friends and family said good-bye to their loved ones:

“The scenes just before the departure of the train touched the heart-strings of all who witnessed them. Fathers are better able to realize the seriousness of war today, and are grimmer of visage. Mothers feel it, and eyes that were tear-wet last night are very wistful still.

“There were not a few women in the throng at the station. One was quite elderly, with grey hair showing under her simple black bonnet, and she was met and escorted by a tall and sturdy non-commissioned officer. Scarce a word was exchanged between them, but she leaned heavily upon his arm, and it was hard to say whose heart was the fuller in those last moments.

“Sisters there were in some instances of the men going away, or in others the sweethearts, as the engagement ring proudly showed. Conversation was subdued, but when one caught a sentence, it bespoke confidence and hope. Plainly, most of the women present had spent an uncomfortable and tearful day, even though theirs were ‘the tears of hope, pride and pity, trust and prayer.’

“For one wife and mother, at least, the parting scene is too much. She whispers something to a companion, who bows her head silently and takes the hand of the little brown-jerseyed boy at her side, moving him so that he may see well when the train pulls out. The poor mother herself slips away, and those around make way for her in the solitude which in that supreme moment seems more to be desired than sympathy itself.

“Another lifts up a chubby two-year-old boy who had a flag to wave. Here and there women thrust their hands out for a final pressure of a man’s fingers. Now and then, some word of encouragement is heard as, ‘We shall think of you all the time,’ or ‘Write as soon as you can.’ ”¹

The reporter was fulsome in his praise of the way the women behaved in the difficult situation :

“These wives, mothers, sisters, were sending away those dearest on earth to them and they did so with the finest courage – that courage which knows what it can endure – thus giving to the men a parting memory that will be their most precious recollection in the anxious and arduous days before them.

“Here and there one might catch sight of a wife or mother, red-eyed and handkerchief in hand, vainly trying to hide the signs of inevitable grief at the parting. But, for the most part, the farewells had been said by then, and as sad as their hearts might be, they bravely strove not to show it.”¹

There had been a prolonged outburst of patriotic fervor in Hamilton when the news arrived indicating that England was at war with Germany, and that Canada would also be at war in support of the mother country.

Thereafter, the war in Europe was remote, until Hamilton’s men started to leave for the front:

“Until a short time ago, a great war in Europe meant little more to Hamilton than an eager perusal of the newspapers, a quickening of the pulse, high thoughts of patriotism. Last night, a brief glimpse of the reverse side of the picture was shown, the farewell, the heartaches, the breaking of home ties.”¹

The crowd had been extremely patient as they waited for the train to depart:

“Long before six o’clock, the scheduled time of departure, people commenced to arrive at the station.

“Camp had to be broken at the Jockey club, the horses put aboard the train, gun carriages blocked up upon flat cars, and an immense amount of detail required attention and caused delay.

“The crowd at the Hunter street station waited patiently until 6:30; then 7 o’clock; and then 7:30. Still the train had not put in an appearance. Some of those present departed for supper. Others waited on supperless, fearful of missing the train. Under such circumstances, it was not to be wondered at that a number of women fainted later on.”¹

The train finally approaching the Hunter street station, from the east, about 9:15 :

“The train pulled into the station without any warning whistle or clanging bell. There were half a dozen cars containing horses, as many more flat cars with gun poles pointing skyward, and down toward the end of the train, the coaches toward the end of the train the coaches containing officers and men.

“There was a general rush toward the end coaches while the 13^th regiment band started up O Canada.

“For a few moments all was confusion. Men, women and children rushed from one coach to another in the drizzling rain – seeking out the one they had waited so long to see. It seemed as if the whole city was agog to see its soldiers off, and the good-humored, light-hearted fellows took the farewells as lightly for the most part as the others were affected.

“While the men were not supposed to leave their places in the coaches, a number of them did so and exchanged hurried farewells with their friends and relatives present. A big, stalwart private stood standing with his wife, who had in her arms a baby only a few months old.

“Just before the train started, he hastily kissed his wife, pressed his lips on the tiny baby, turned abruptly and climbed back aboard the car. This wife tried to smile bravely, but the unbidden tears rolled down her cheeks, and those standing around found their own eyes moist.

“There was a youth – he hardly looked more than eighteen – whose mother was to send him off. Both were calm until the train started to move.

“ ‘Don’t feel badly, mother,’ he said, pressing her hand in farewell. ‘I’ll be alright, I guess.’

As the mother turned away, she broke down, and women near sobbed openly in sympathy. The boy’s fingers trembled as he tried to loosen the collar of his uniform. He tried to shout back some encouraging word, but something kept rising in his throat, seeming to choke him. ”¹

As the train slowly pulled away, soon to disappear into the tunnel, cheering rang out loudly:

“Frantic good-byes and wishes were called out. Here and there a cheer was smothered in a sob or a good-bye became of a sudden a trembling whisper.

“From every window of the six coaches, soldiers leaned out, waving their hats in farewell. Last of all came the car bearing the officers who likewise leaned out of the windows waving farewells. It was a scene never to be forgotten.”¹

The soldiers, and those left behind in Hamilton, knew full well what the future held for those who had volunteered – training in Quebec, a voyage across the Atlantic and then assignments on the battlefield:

“For a week or so, perhaps, there will be more of loneliness than of fear, while the men are at Valcartier camp. Then there will be prayers said in new earnestness for ‘those in peril on the sea.’ And after that will come the days of anxious waiting. For the men will then be ‘at the front,’ carrying the Maple Leaf and the Beaver into places where death may be.”¹

 

1914-08-15

“Hamilton was out en masse last night to see the Thirteenth Royal regiment parade. Not because parades are of unusual character in this city, but because of the loyalty of its citizens at a time when military displays have to do with the preparations being made in defense of the motherland.”

          Hamilton Spectator.   August 15, 1914

          Friday evening August 14, 1914 was a time when the intense patriotic fervor of Hamiltonians in the early days of World War One was manifested.

          When it was learned that the city’s beloved Thirteenth militia was to parade the city streets, citizens came out to cheer them on :

          “For at least an hour previous to the parade, James street, from the armories to King, was packed six to eight feet deep on both sides, with men, women and children, all waiting to cheer the boys in uniform.”¹

               ¹ “Crowds Watched Soldiers March : 13^th Parade Provoked Big Patriotic Display : Streets Thronged and Armories Packed”

          Hamilton Spectator.  August 15, 1914

          The parade route that evening was from the armories, south on James street to King, east on King to John street, south on John to Main street, then West on Main to James, and the parade then turned right to head north on James to return to the armories:

          “The parade was heralded by the Thirteenth Bugle band, 34 strong, with 559 men in the line, inclusive of 68 overseas recruits.”¹

               At the armories, a standing room only awaited the return of the soldiers:

          “So great were the crowds which sought admission to the armories after the parade that many were turned away. The galleries surrounding the big hall were packed with enthusiastic citizens, who remained until the last drum beat.

          “Many of the new recruits were also put through their facings and showed up well, notwithstanding the short time they have been in service.”¹

               For some Hamiltonians, notably those who were both recent immigrants to the city and who had Austrian or German backgrounds, the beginning f World War One brought with it suspicions.

          One man, Domenti Oliksuik, was a man who lived in the east end of Hamilton with his wife and children and who ran a grocery.

          As Hamiltonians were cheering the parade of the Thirteenth, Oliksiuk was languished in jail. Although he faced no formal charges for anything, nor did he know when he would be released from custody, Domenti Oliksuik was labelled in the press as being a “war prisoner,” a “spy and a conspirator” :

          “The local officials have decided to bring in a government to translate the messages sent to Oliksuik by the Austrian counsul at Montreal. The police do not doubt the integrity of Interpreter Yarish, or the other court interpreters, but they believe it is a case for a government interpreter. Authorities at Ottawa will be asked to have the messages translated.”²

               ² “War Prisoner Is Still Held By the Police : Government Interpreter Will Look Over Messages.”

          Hamilton Spectator. August 17, 1914.

          When Monday August 17 arrived, Oliksuik was still in jail, uncharged, and not really understanding what was going on:

          “Oliksuik’s wife and oldest son paced the corridors at the police station this morning, conferring with Interpreter Yarish, in the hope that something could be done to get the husband and father out of jail.”²

1914-08-07a

“The long-awaited order from Ottawa to begin recruiting here for the Canadian contingent that is to go abroad in the interests of Great Britain came this morning and was received with enthusiasm by military leaders.”

          Hamilton Spectator.  August 7, 1914

          Even since war rumors had begun to circulate, there was a lot of pressure on the local military authorities in Hamilton. Many men were ready to drop everything, sign up with the army and get over to Europe as soon as possible.

          However, it was not that simple.

          For many days, all that could be done was to accept the names and addresses of those wishing to volunteer.

          Finally on August 7, 1914, official word came from Ottawa that recruiting was to be done, and with the order came specific direction as to how the recruiting was to proceed:

          “The instructions came from the adjutant-general at headquarter, and no time was lost in making arrangements. The Canadian force, according to the official order will be imperial and will have the same status as the British regular troops.

          “Enrolment will be voluntary for all ranks. Physical qualifications are set forth. In regard to musketry, general proficiency and a high standard will be required.”¹

               ¹ “Hamilton Has Chance to Show Its Loyalty : Ottawa Sends Order For Recruiting to Begin : Big Rush Expected at the Armories Tonight”

          Hamilton Spectator.  August 7, 1914.

          While the communication from Ottawa was lengthy and detailed, the basics were summarized in articles appearing in all three Hamilton daily newspapers so that those eager to volunteer could find out if they were eligible or not.

          Starting at 8 p.m. that very evening, those wishing to volunteer could go to the armories on James Street North. Volunteers were required to be between 18 and 45 years of age, at least 5 foot 3 inches tall, chest not less than 33 ½ inches and have some proficiency with “musketry.”

          The time of service for volunteers was open-ended, and they were expected to serve for the duration of the war. Applicants would be considered in the following order : unmarried men, married men without families and married men with families.

          The Spectator article pointed out that “with the patriotic wave that is sweeping the country now, it is expected that there will be a hearty and spontaneous response to the appeal for volunteers. The armories will doubtless present a scene tonight outrivaling the rush there was when the call came for a Canadian contingent to take part in the South African war.”¹

               In other war-related news in the Spectator of August 7, 1914, it was stated that the Hamilton chapter of the Daughters of the Empire would join in a national effort by the women of Canada to raise enough funds to furnish and equip a hospital ship. In addition to the Daughters of the Empire, other groups were anxious to be involved in the effort:

          “When it is decided just what steps will be taken here, a mass meeting of the women’s organizations in the city will be called and steps will be taken at once to help Hamilton do its share.

          “The women’s societies in the various churches in the city have also volunteered to help the good work along so that it is likely that Hamilton will more than hold up its end in equipping the ship.”¹

               Patriotism was at a high pitch on August 7, 1914 in Hamilton and a Spectator reporter described the mood in the city that day as follows :

          “Hamilton has never witnessed such scenes as took place in the city streets last night, and probably never will again after the present war is over.

          “Although the city is far removed from the present center of hostilities, one might have been excused for thinking that Hamilton itself was in danger of foreign invasion. The streets were packed with an enthusiastic crowd of excited men and women, whose customary serenity and calmness of manner had completely deserted them, and in its place had arisen the true spirit of imperial devotion – the spirit which in times of war has always permeated the breasts of the citizens of the British Empire whenever the empire was in danger.

          “Britain need never fear for her safety while she can boast of men like those of Hamilton, and nobody need ever speak of the apathy of Canada’s allegiance to the British crown. The war has not yet lasted long, but it has gone far enough to bring out all that is best in loyalty and patriotism of all those who live under the Union Jack the world over, and nowhere has the fidelity been demonstrated in greater degree than it has by the people of Hamilton.”²

               ² “Armories Scene of Wildest Enthusiasm : Bands Played and People Cheered Recruits : Many Volunteer to Fight for the Empire.”

          Hamilton Spectator. August 8, 1914.

               As anticipated in the morning papers, the scene at the armories was extremely hectic as the 8 p.m. opening time arrived, the hour when volunteering could officially begin:

          “Displaying the greatest of enthusiasm and patriotism over one thousand men assembled at the armories last evening to offer their services for their king and country in the great struggle that has just commenced in Europe. Never in the history of Hamilton has the spirit of patriotism been so keen as at present.”³

               ³ “Thousands Are Ready to Serve Their Country : Enthusiastic Response in Hamilton to the Call to Arms : All Branches of the Service Active and List Will be large”

          Hamilton Times.  August 8, 1914.

          The Spectator reporter at the armories echoed his fellow reporter with the Times in describing the remarkable scene at the armories:

          “Magnificent is the only word which fittingly describes the proceedings at the armories last night. The huge drill hall was packed with men and women. The former had come to respond to the call from the government offices at Ottawa to volunteer their services for the fighting line in Europe, and their womenfolk’s mission was to cheer them on and to encourage them in their self-sacrificing enthusiasm for the cause of empire.

          “And how they cheered!

          “The band of the 91^st Highlanders, under Bandmaster H. A. Stares, Mus. Bac., formed a square in the rear end of the hall, and played, successively, Rule Britannia, O Canada, The Maple Leaf and God Save the King; and at the conclusion of each rendering, hats were flying high in the air and the great building resounded again and again with the joyous, exited shouts and cheers of men and women.

          “This was no lukewarm enthusiasm either. It was straight from the hearts of these people, and it was an eloquent testimony of their strength, their union and their common devotion to a national imperial cause.

          “If there was one circumstance which gave rise to a feeling of discontent, it was the inability of the men to at once rush off to the scene of the war. They wanted to cut the fetters which bound them to Hamilton, but they were sensible enough to realize that nothing could be done without organization and they held their souls in patience, contenting themselves with registering their names with the commanding officers of the local battalions and taking their chances of being called upon for service when the first Canadian contingent is required.”²

               The Spectator reporter noticed one feature about the crowd at the armories, something seemingly small but telling :

          “This was the intensely dramatic way in which all the men folk, civilian and military, in that huge hall instinctively sprung to attention as the 91^st band played the National Anthem.

          “In times of peace, it has frequently been remarked that the National Anthem calls forth little or no enthusiasm when played to a Hamilton audience; that men remain smoking, laughing and chatting as though the King was of no concern of theirs.

          “But last night, the scene in the armories proved that this apparent indifference was only a thin, superficial veneer, for all the men stood erect, with bared heads, and their hearts and breasts throbbed with emotion as the familiar strains, rendering by the band with an intensity of feeling which was truly profound, fell upon their ears.

          “They realized, many of them for the first time, the true significance of the wonderful national prayer.”²

               At this point, the band of the 91^st Highlanders left the armories and marched south on James street to the center of the city where it repeated the patriotic numbers which it had played minutes before.

          The band soon was surrounded before a cheering mob of people as it proceeded :

          “The crowd was enthusiastic without being wild, and fervent rather than boisterous, but there was no mistake about the genuineness of their feelings.

          “The crowd was so dense that traffic at the junction of King and James streets was stopped for a quarter of an hour, and despite the efforts of the police, the people could not be moved. The street cars and a host of other vehicles were held up and were compelled to wait until the band had finished its selections.”²

         

1914-08-06a

“Never before in the history of Hamilton has the patriotic spirit of the citizens reached such a high pitch as it occupies at the present time.”

          Hamilton Spectator.       August 6, 1914.

          The abundance of enthusiasm which greeted the news that Germany had declared war on England did not abate in the days which followed:

          “Men of all ages are announcing themselves as ready to go to the defense of the country at a moment’s notice, hundreds having already made application to the various commanding officers to be added to the recruiting list, as soon as one is opened.”¹

               ¹ “Thousands in Hamilton Impatient for the Call : Entire Field Battery Ready to Go – Applications Received : Canadians May Do Canadian Coast Duty Or Go to India.”

          Hamilton Spectator.  August 6, 1914.

          The eagerness to sign up with the army was for the moment frustrated in Hamilton as local military officials had yet to receive orders as to how they should proceed to respond to those who wanted to volunteer.

          There was also uncertainty as to what role Canadian volunteers would play in the larger war effort:

          “From advice reaching here from an unofficial source, the officers are inclined to believe that the volunteers will be stationed at Canadian ports, or sent abroad on garrison duty. Other reports state that a number of Canadian will be sent to India to succeed the regulars from that colony who will have gone to the front.”¹

               Part of the confusion emanated from Ottawa as discussions were taking place sorting out how the Canadian soldiers would work with the British army, notably how the chain of command would work and other logistical issues.

          In the meantime, the leaders of the Hamilton militia units pressed ahead with what they could do:

          “Col. E. E. W. Moore, brigadier, when spoken to this morning, stated that he expected word to mobilize here at any time, but not until instructions came would anything be done here.

          “In the meantime, the names and addresses of all volunteers are being taken, and these men will be notified when they are wanted.

“Col. Moore stated that he did not expect orders to get the local regiments in training, but volunteers will be accepted who do not belong to the regiments, providing they pass the medical examination. The regimental physicians will act in the capacity of medical examiners.”¹

While efforts were being made to sort out the protocols as regards dealing with volunteers, the intense interest of Hamiltonians regarding what was happening in Europe again drew large numbers of people to the Hamilton Spectator’s downtown office building where the bulletin sheet was once more put in place:

“The enthusiasm of Hamilton people grows stronger and stronger as time goes on, and the series of reverses sustained by the German forces yesterday were received with shouts of jubilation as they were announced from the Spectator office on James Street South at different intervals.

“Last night the crowds which gathered to again hear the latest news from the battlefields exceeded by far all previous records of the city, and they devoured with eager delight the details at Liege and Vise.” ²

² “Crowds Eager For News From the North Sea : Immense Throng at Spec Office : War Pictures Aroused Great Enthusiasm : 91^st Band Will Play Patriotic Airs Tonight.”

Hamilton Spectator.  August 6, 1914.

The machine used to magnify the images displayed was called the stereopticon. The images could not be used to advantage during the daylight hours :

“The Spectator stereopticon has become quite an institution of the city, and long before it was dark enough to commence flashing bulletins on the huge screen opposite, a great mass of people had taken up their positions.

“By the time everything was ready to start there was scarcely room to move between King and Main streets, and the great mob was cheering heartily and waving miniature Union Jacks all the while. They sang patriotic airs, and howled and hissed at everything that was German or Austrian, while the operator in the Spectator office was kept busy changing the bulletins for their consumption.

“As soon as the messages came through the agencies of the Great Family Journal, they were quickly transformed into lantern slides and thrown onto the screen, and the people time and again showed their appreciation of the excellent service of news which the Spectator was providing.”²

 

 

1914-06-19

It was a gift to the city of Hamilton, a gift that was unusual to say the least.

          In 1914, the zoo at Dundurn Park was a popular destination for both Hamiltonians and visitors to the city.

The gift was the subject of intense curiosity when it reached the city:

“Leo, the big African male lion, presented to the city by the Washburn Shows company, arrived in this city yesterday afternoon, and was immediately transferred to Dundurn park, where he was placed in the special quarters recently prepared for him in a remote section of the bears’ cage.”¹

¹ “Leo at Dundurn : Big African Lion Presented to City Arrived Yesterday.”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 19, 1914.

A local firm, the Canadian Express company provided one of its large trucks to take Leo from the Stuart street railway station to Dundurn park. A large strong iron cage on the back of the truck ensured that the big cat did not escape into one of the city neighbourhoods while en route.

At the Dundurn zoo, trouble was experienced transferring the lion from the truck into its new permanent quarters:

“Once in his new home, Leo started out on a tour of inspection. He made a careful examination of every detail of the cage, occasionally testing the strength of its strong iron bars by throwing his weight against, or thrusting his huge paws between them.

“He cast rather jealous eyes in the direction of the bears, glanced at several strange faces in his immediate vicinity, then lay down quite contently in one corner and went to sleep.”¹

A Spectator reporter managed to interview the keeper who had accompanied Leo to Hamilton from Woodstock.

The keeper said that Leo was quite harmless when in a cage by himself, but when he was in company with other lions, he became quite difficult to manage:

“Leo was originally trained for the leading part in an arena act with a number of other lions,” said the trainer. “For some time, he played his part well, and never failed to answer his call when his turn for action came. One day it was decided to make a change in the act which necessitated the placing of Leo in a minor part, and from that moment he was a different lion. It was a case of being the leading man in the part or nothing, and even when he was again raised to his former prestige by being changed to his original part, he refused to be the same quiet, well-behaved Leo of former days. Mr. Washburn then decided to present him to the city of Hamilton.”¹

The article on Leo’s arrival in Hamilton ended with the statement of Mr. Washburn that Leo was valued at $1,000..

1914-08-05a

“No more welcome tidings have ever been received by Hamilton people then those which were flashed onto the Spectator bulletin sheet last night, telling the vast crowd that Germany had declared war on England”

          Hamilton Spectator. August 6, 1914.

          The news had been anticipated, the news seemed virtually to be inevitable, but when it was confirmed, there was a mighty roar of approval.

          On Tuesday evening, August 4, 1914, the streets in downtown Hamilton, particularly those in the vicinity, were packed with citizens anxious to hear the latest news from Europe.

          For several days, the dominoes seemed to be falling in precisely the order which would mean a full-scale war was about to begin. However, extensive diplomatic efforts had been made to avoid such a conflict so what would happen in the near and distant future had not been confirmed.

          At the Spectator office, a huge screen, a big sheet actually, had been placed on the outside of the building.

When a bulletin confirming the fact that Germany had formally declared war on England, the scene was remarkable:

“Long, loud, reverberating cheers burst from thousands of throats, and were re-echoed again and again. For two days, these people had kept under restraint their exuberant enthusiasm, but now they let themselves go in a manner which brought hundreds of others rushing to downtown from all parts of the city.”¹

¹ “News of War Was Received With Cheers : Immense Crowd at Spec. Office Roared Approval : Patriotic Scenes at Dundurn and Temple Theatre : G.F.J.’s Leased Wire Brought First Word Here”

Hamilton Spectator. August 6, 1914.

The managers of the Hamilton Spectator had leased a wire service from the United States, and this service was the first to confirm the news that war had been declared in Europe. Therefore, the Spectator was able to beat its local competitors, the Times and the Herald, with its ability to provide Hamiltonians with the first official word on the matter.

The Spectator had seven agents throughout the city and area where the bulletins were posted for them convenience of people living in those neighbourhoods.

The Spectator West End Branch Office was at York and Ray streets and the Spectator Dundas Branch was in the Valley City business district. Other locations where the Spectator bulletins were various businesses where the newspaper was sold : Porter’s Drug Store on James Street North, Newman’s at the corner Barton Streets and Robins avenue, , Griffin’s drug store, Charlton Avenue and Queen Street South, Bishop and Sons on Mount Hamilton.

There was an incident at the Barton street east when a native of Germany and “a sturdy son of England” started arguing:

“It ended up with the two mixing it up with their fists. Before any serious damage had been done, however, others in the large crowd assembled in front of the store parted the duo. For a time, it was feared that the German would be mobbed, and some of his sympathizers hastily telephoned to the police of the east end division.”²

² “Feeling Was Running High : German and Englishman Came to Blows”

Hamilton Spectator. August 5, 1914.

Although each location certainly had groups of citizens following the bulletins as they were posted, it was the downtown core where the crowd were largest, and the reaction to the climatic bulletin was most fervent :

“The scene which followed the welcome news was almost indescribable. Men and women cheered and shouted their hardest, and hats were flung high in the air.

“The verses of the national anthem were shone onto the screen and Hamilton witnessed the unique sight of several thousands of its citizens bursting involuntarily into the tune of the great national air as with one voice.

“The next slide – a colored patriotic device containing Nelson’s words, ‘England expects that every man will do his duty,’ never had a more enthusiastic reception, while a huge picture of the British Lion, calm, fearless and majestic, brought forth a roar full of triumph and pride.

“Pictures of celebrities of all nations on the side of the British kept the enthusiasm at fever heat, and, as by magic, these cheers ceased as portraits of the Kaiser and kaiserin, or representatives of German or Austrian warships took their places. Cries of adulation instantly gave way to howls and yells of execration, for the best patriotic feelings of these Hamilton men were now thoroughly aroused.”¹

The Spectator reporter on scene noted that while it was obvious that the surge of patriotism on display was evident on the faces of those he termed as “sons of the empire” he also wrote that  even though “foreigners” recently arrived to become citizens of Hamilton were also caught up in the energetic display of loyalty.

For some time, the Spectator kept flashing bulletins it was received from London, Paris, Berlin, Brussels and other European cities. Evidently it was determined that nothing more of note was expected that evening and an announcement was made to that effect. The crowd then began to disperse, but not before final renditions of Rule Britannia and the national anthem were sung loudly.

Hamilton Mayor George Allan received the news that was had been declared via a telephone call from the Spectator. The mayor then went from his home to Dundurn Park and made an announcement to the large crowd of citizens who were present at the park to take in a concert by the Thirteenth Battalion Band :

“There was an impressive silence as the mayor stepped forward to speak, and then when the crowd realized that Britain was really in the fight now, it cut loose with its enthusiasm. The band struck up the national anthem and Rule Britannia, and thousands of people sang with patriotic fervor.”¹

Another place where a large crowd, already assembled, were given the news of the war, was the Temple Theatre. The vaudeville performance was interrupted as Manager Appleton who also had been informed by the Spectator of the announcement of the German declaration, took the stage himself after the first act and informed the audience of what he had learned:

“The orchestra immediately played the national anthem and other patriotic air, and there was a scene of wild enthusiasm, the entire audience arising almost as one to cheer and sing.