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“People living near Hamilton’s main police station at King William and Mary streets had had enough, and they decided to let their concerns be known in no uncertain terms:

“Tired, sleepy-eyed residents in the vicinity of the central police station swarmed through the swinging glass doors of the King William street justice hall this morning .

Hamilton Spectator.  July 29, 1914.

Hoping to take their complaints directly to the police chief or the deputy chief, the residents were frustrated:

“They marched to the door of Chief Smith’s office and found that a spider had spun its web over the door-knob, and learned that the head of the force was hooking trout at Lake Ha-Ha.

“The tried, sleepy-eyed residents padded down the stairs and banged on the office door of Deputy Chief Whatley. At that time the deputy chief was giving the habitual bench flowers in Gore park the ‘once-over.’ ” ¹

¹ “Residents Have Lively Grouch”

Hamilton Spectator.   July 29, 1914

Really frustrated, the residents searched for someone, anyone, to vent their annoyance with the police department.

At that point, the caretaker of the station entered the hall with a pail of suds and a mop ready to go to work:

“ ‘An official at last; at him, comrades, at him,’ gurgled one tired, sleepy-eyed resident and in one single, solitary second the caretaker was surrounded.

“ ‘Wat’s all the bloomin’ ‘owling for, blime me?’ stammered the caretaker.

“ ‘We have a complaint to make,’ fifteen voices, ranging from soprano to blacksmith basso, blended harmoniously.”¹

The residents’ issue had started with the arrest of James Richards on a charge of theft the previous afternoon.

At first, Richards rested quietly in his cell at the station, but just before the super hour  the situation changed:

“Then he shrieked and moaned and cried and the echoes reverberated one block away. To the desk man, Richards confided that he was a ‘dope eater’ that he had to have a ‘shot of hop’ or he would go mad.

“The ‘shot’ was not forthcoming and Richards continued his one-man chorus.”

Finally at 10 p.m., Richards was taken to the city hospital. On the way back to the station, the police wagon encountered Mary  Randolf, “a colored girl” being arrested by Constable Dick Elliot on a vagrancy charge.

The constable and his prisoner were driven back to central station.

Mary was anything but a model prisoner:

“She was led to the women’s quarters and told to go to sleep. But sleep was not for Mary – nor for anyone within the radius of her shrill voice.

“Mary just opened her facial subway and almost lifted the roof from the station. She ran the scale from both ends and started again at the middle.

“Richards’ cries were the sweetest of music compared to Mary’s efforts.

“At 7 o’clock this morning she sobbed to the tune of the National anthem, closed her performance and went to sleep.”¹

The residents near the station had endured hours upon hours of loud, unsettling noise, beginning with the “dope eater” and followed by the “colored girl” and they wanted to vent their rage.

Unfortunately the caretaker was the only one available :

“The caretaker waited patiently until the complaint had been aired. Then he tucked the mop under his arm, grabbed the pail of suds, and chuckled loud and long.

“ ‘Don’t complain tuh me, brothers. I was tryin’ to sleep in the next room. Sympathize with me,’ ejaculated the tired, patient  janitor, and he beat it.¹