1915-07-01qq

It was not long after the noon hour when the news of the crime hit the offices of the three Hamilton daily newspapers, Like it competitors, the Spectator quickly sent a reporter to the scene of the reported serious crime.

With little time to spare, the reporter gathered the details of the incident, raced back to the Spectator building, and wrote an article that was inserted in time to make the afternoon edition of the paper.

Under a headline in large type, reading “Shocking Tragedy in Doctor’s Office,” purchasers of the Spectator’s afternoon edition of July 1, 1915 learned of that a doctor had been shot and killed, and his assailant was in the City Hospital dying of a self-inflicted wound.

Dr. Harry Williams, 49 years old, had been instantly killed by Hedgewood A. Homes, whom the Spectator reporter noted “turned the smoking Savage gun on himself and buried a shot in his own brain.”¹

¹ “Shocking Tragedy in Doctor’s Office.”

Hamilton Spectator. July 1, 1915.

Hamilton Police detective Shirley had arrived at the scene of the shooting less than five minutes after it occurred. He had done an initial, thorough investigation but as the Spectator went to press that afternoon had been unable to determine a motive.

It was learned that the previous day Holmes had turned up at the doctor’s office, asking for the doctor who happened to be out at the time. Holmes did speak to Miss Clark who lived in the residence, 637 King street east, in which Dr. William’s had established an office and surgery.

Holmes told Miss Clark that he had three brothers fighting at the front, and that he would have been there as well, except that he was suffering from “T.B.” Miss Clark assumed Holmes meant that he was a tubercular patient and that was why he was trying to see the doctor. After some more small talk, Holmes left, saying that he would call again.

Holmes did indeed return to Dr. Williams’ office just before the noon hour on July 1, 1915, but, again, the doctor happened to be out. Holmes simply walked past Miss Clark and proceeded into the surgery room, telling her that he would wait there for the doctor’s return:

“Shortly after 12 o’clock, Dr. Williams arrived at the house. Miss Clark was standing in the hall, and she heard Dr. Williams exclaim; ‘Why, hello, Abbie, how’s tricks?’ Holmes replied; ‘Hello, Doc’

“Dr. Williams shut the door, and Miss Clark went to the kitchen with her sister, Frances. Fifteen minutes later, three shots rang out in rapid succession, and the Clark girls ran to the surgery. The sight that met their gaze as they forced open the surgery door was sickening.

“Dr. Williams, with blood gushing from a wound in his left temple, lay on his face on the floor in the northeast corner of the room. Directly inside the door, Holmes was on his back on the floor, blood welling from a hole in his right temple.

“Under his outstretched right hand was a Savage automatic revolver. Holmes was heaving convulsive breaths, and appeared to be in great agony.

“Terrified and hysterical, the young girls tried to explain the horrible tragedy to the police of the Central station by telephone.

“Detective Shirley hurried to the house in the auto patrol, and was the first to enter the room of death.”¹

The detective called Dr. Harper, and then tried ensure that nothing would be disturb any potential evidence in the room. Dr. Williams was still alive when the detective arrived, but expired before the doctor arrived. Three more doctors, hearing of the crime, rushed to Dr. Williams’ office. Holmes was still alive and two of the doctors accompanied him as he was rushed to the City Hospital on Barton street.

Holmes lingered until 9:30 in the evening when he succumbed to his wound. He made no statement whatsoever as to his motive for the shooting.

The Hamilton police had an initial theory as to Holmes’ motivation :

“The supposition, popular in police circles is that the assassin was addicted to drugs – a ‘dope’ fiend; that he pleaded with Dr. Williams to furnish him with drugs and that when the doctor refused, he became enraged and shot him down.” ²

² “Police Think Murder Was Madman’s Act.”

Hamilton Spectator. July 2, 1915.

That theory was disputed by some who knew Dr. Williams, who believe that the cause of Holmes’ rage was that the doctor refused to treat his tuberculosis. Dr. Victor Ross, a Hamilton doctor currently with the staff at the tuberculosis hospital in Gravenhurst, learned of Dr. Williams’ death by telegram. Before boarding a train to return to Hamilton, Dr. Ross learned that Hedgewood Holmes had indeed been a patient at a cottage sanatorium in the Gravenhurst facility.

It was learned that Holmes was in an advanced stage of tuberculosis and it was assumed that his mind was affected and he became obsessed with the belief that Dr. Williams could cure him.

In previous days, Dr. Williams had refused Holmes efforts to get him to help him. thinking that Holmes was already under the care of another physician, he thought  it would be unprofessional to interfere. Dr. Williams urged Holmes to return to Gravenhurst.

Holmes tried one more time to get help from Dr. Williams, and when he was refused yet again, his reaction was to kill the doctor and then himself.

1915-06-26ii

It was the grand finale of Baby Welfare Week - an Outing Day at Dundurn Park, with over 1000 specially invited mothers and infants, plus the general public, invited to attend.

On Thursday, June 24, 1915, a large advertisement was placed in the Hamilton Spectator, noting that the big event was to begin the following day at 3 p.m.,  that there would be no admission fee and that the attractions would include a band concert, daylight fireworks, draws for two complete ‘Neponset Doll Houses’ and two dozen dresses, a balloon ascension, a photo contest with a $5 prize for the best child photo taken on the grounds, extra lawn swings and slides installed for the afternoon and, finally “favors for the kiddies and refreshments for mothers and infants.”

 

The Herald reporter who attended the Outing Day provided a detailed coverage of the event for his paper’s readers:

“Hundreds of mothers and their children gathered in the park and a very pleasant afternoon was spent. The street railway company had special cars at the service of the welfare committee, and they were used to good advantage in the transportation of the mothers and the kiddies.

“About three o’clock, all that could be seen in the park were baby carriages and pleased mothers and happy children. It is estimated that there were about seven thousand people on the grounds and everyone had a smiling face.

 

“The principal part of the afternoon was devoted to the daylight fireworks that were exhibited by the Hand Fireworks company, and many a kiddie could be seen running to catch the balloons that were sent up.

“Another feature of the afternoon was the manner in which Bruce A. Carey taught the children to play that old game entitled Nuts in May. The Salvation army band furnished the music for the afternoon, and all of the kiddies paraded behind the band singing that old favorite Tipperary, and then the parents took up the chorus and the old grounds resounded with it.”¹

¹ “Mother’s Day a Big Success : A Large Crowd Gathered at Dundurn Park Yesterday”

Hamilton Herald.   June 26, 1915.

An important event of the afternoon’s fun was a pie-eating contest, in which several boys from the Boys’ Home orphanage were entered:

“The boys started laughing, and this is not conducive to speed, the result being that it took about nine minutes to finish one piece of pie by the winner.”¹

A meal had been promised for the invited mothers and their children.  But, with the supply quickly running short, Mayor Walters and W. E. Phin hurriedly returned downtown to gather more donations from restaurants:

“The committee in charge of the refreshments had its hands full in supplying the people, but all lent a willing hand to make the afternoon a success. Mayor Walters could be seen going through the crowds of waiting mothers and children and handing out good things to eat.”¹

^{Hamilton Mayor Chester Walters with a baby whose w father had been recently killed at the front.}

By six p.m., the park was nearly empty with all mothers, children and others well-satisfied with how well the outing had been run off.

The next day, the Hamilton Herald carried an editorial on the importance of the Baby Welfare Week:

“The plan of setting aside one week in the year for the promotion of the welfare of babies is that appeals not alone to philanthropic sentiment, but to the hard sense and cool logic of the practical economist. It is a movement which deserves all the encouragement and substantial support which can be given to it.

          “Especially at this crisis in the history of our country and empire, it is meet to give though and careful attention to the problem of conservation of infant life, for the drain on the young manhood of the empire has already been great and is likely to be greater, and no wastage of life can be afforded.

“Many people have become interested in the work who had never given it any thought before. Much valuable information about the rearing of babies has been disseminated. Mothers have learned many things that are good to know about the numerous ailments to which infants are subject, and the best ways of treating them; also about proper feeding and clothing and handling.

“It has been a beneficent and beautiful work, good for those who engaged in it as well as for mothers and children and the community at large.”²

² “Baby Welfare Week”

Hamilton Herald.   June 26, 1915.

The Herald editorial writer had positive words for the previous day’s public event :

“ ‘Baby Week’ closed yesterday afternoon with a large picnic at Dundurn park, an affair which was not only highly successful, but was unique in character.

“All the children from all the city institutions devoted to the care of the young were there. And many hundreds of babes in the arms of their mothers were there too. Thousands of citizens were present to assist in giving a good time to the kiddies old enough to be entertained.

“All sorts of amusements were provided, and the youngsters were fed  with good things to an extent which almost made one doubt whether baby welfare in the form of ice cream, cake and candy might, in some cases, cause temporary trouble.

“It was a glorious wind up of a most successful week of activity in behalf of the babies.

“Not only was this the first ‘baby welfare week’ in Hamilton, it was the first in Canada. We may be sure it will not be the last in this city.”¹

 

1915-06-19oo

“For the first time in eighteen or twenty years, the crack of the old Sniders in actual target practice was heard in this vicinity yesterday afternoon at the rifle ranges.”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 19, 1915.

In the 1890s, a rifle range had been established at the base of the escarpment, west of the city limits. It was mainly for the use of soldiers of the Hamilton militia unit, the 13^th at first. The use of rifle ranges had become diminished in the years before the outbreak of the war in August, 1914.

Volunteers who had entered service with the professional army received their training at ValCatier, Quebec. However, there were volunteer soldiers who remained in Hamilton, members of the Hamilton Home Guard. These volunteers were tasked to protect key locations of the city from any tampering by enemy agents. The Home Guard was also expected to be ready to mobilize quickly in case of any civil insurrection locally.

On June 18, 1915, members of No. 1 Company of the Hamilton Home Guard assembled at the rifle ranges for practice:

“The weather was ideal for shooting, and some good scores were made, the high man for the day being Sergt. Burnside, with a total of 45 out of a possible 50.

“The distance was 100 yards, each man firing ten rounds.”¹

¹ “Old Sniders : Home Guard Members Used Them on the Ranges Yesterday”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 19, 1915.

The soldiers were volunteers with little previous training, and they had to use older weapons , known as Snider rifles:

“A number of the men had never before fired a military weapon, and the officers expressed themselves satisfied with the showing made.

“For some time a rumor has been going the rounds that the Snider rifle was rather a dangerous weapon; but it was proved yesterday that the only danger was to the enemy.

“The rifle behaved splendidly, and the alleged wicked ‘kick’ of the Snider was conspicuous by its absence. This is a good, serviceable rifle, and, properly handled, its wicked ‘kick’ is a myth.”¹

The next practice at the rifle ranges for the No. 1 Company, Hamilton Home Guard was scheduled for the following Wednesday, after which a drill session of military marching was to take place on the grounds of Central Public school. At that parade, opportunities for those interested in joining the Hamilton Home Guard were to be provided.

1915-06-09oo

Rotary Club meetings in 1915 Hamilton were always an occasion for much hilarity among the members,

Usually the meetings did not get reported upon in the press, but the meeting held on June 8 1915 did get coverage because of what the Spectator reporter who had been invited called “some real fine work” by members Cooper, Marsh and Messer :

“The trio of arch-plotters concocted a little joke on the other members and pulled it off without a hitch.”¹

¹ “Put One Over on Rotarians”

Hamilton Spectator.  June 9, 1915.

Harry Marsh was a City of Hamilton employee, with the title Industrial Commissioner. His job was to lure new industries to Hamilton. George Messer, a new member not yet very well-known in the city, was an employee of the F. W. Bird and Sons company.

In the company of Marsh, Messer was brought to the meeting sporting “a villainous-looking moustache” and introduced as William Polson, a manufacturer from Port Arthur, Ontario. It was indicated that Polson’s business had suffered a calamity in Northern Ontario when it burned to the ground, and that perhaps, Polson thought,  it was a good idea to relocate in Hamilton:

“ Polson’, who was given a careful hearing, said that there were many things about Hamilton that he did not like, and he named a few of his aversions.

“Immediately he sat down and members of the club tried to convince him that Hamilton was the finest city in the world.

“A few minutes later, Marsh and the pseudo Polson left the room, but Marsh returned and said that Polson desired to have another word or two with the members. He was led back in again and explained that if he selected a site in Hamilton, it would only be on the understanding that Hamiltonians should agree to take stock to the value of $25,000.”¹

The members, who had been so animated and vocal in their praise of Hamilton as a most favorable location for industry, began to think that they were expected to immediately bring out their cheque books in respond to Polson’s request:

“Immediately, the faces of his auditors lengthened and Messer, considering it the dramatic moment, yanked off his moustache. The members, recognizing him, almost collapsed.”¹

The guest speaker at that day’s meeting of the Rotary Club of Hamilton was noted local photographer and owner of a prominent photographic studio at King and James streets, A. M. Cunningham.

After giving his talk on the history of photography, Cunningham amazed the members with the following exhibition:

“He lined up all the members whose Christian name was ‘Bill’ and took and instanteous photograph. The moment he pressed the bulb, he pulled a long tube from the camera, and waved it above his head, scattering miniature photos about.”¹

In concluding his article, the Spectator reporter who attended wrote that he Rotary club gathering of June 8, 1915 “was a meeting of surprise and everybody had a good time.”¹

 

 

1915-06-14st

Sandy Selkirk, a member of Hamilton’s 91st regiment, was very proud of his unit, C Company. Selkirk was also very much in admiration of his fellow Hamiltonian Private Hugh Dunbar, also a 91^st Highlander, who had been killed at the front.

Coming across the following article on Dunbar in a Glasgow newspaper, he sent it to the Hamilton Spectator. In that newspaper’s June 14, 1915 edition, it was reprinted in Full :

“ Private Hugh Dunbar, 91^st Canadian Highlander, died on April 22, as a result of wounds received in action at Ypres.

“Along with his brother, Pte. Robert Dunbar, Pte. Hugh Dunbar took part in the glorious charge of the Canadian Scottish, when the Canadians recovered the guns left behind on the previous day when they were forced to retire as a result of the German use of asphyxiating gases.

“Both Dunbar brothers came through the great charge safely, but the following day, while at his post in the trenches, Pte. Hugh Dunbar was wounded by an exploding shell.

“He was being carried from the trench to the hospital by his brother and another comrade when, with the callousness and inhumanity which have characterized most of the enemy’s actions during the war, German snipers shot at and hit the helpless wounded soldier.

“His brother and his comrade succeeded in getting him into the hospital where, however, he died five hours later, watched over to the last by his brother Robert, who forwarded the sad news in a letter to his sisters who reside in Glasgow, last week.

“In a letter to his cousin, Miss Lily McKinley, Alisa street west, Private Robert Dunbar gives additional particulars regarding the fighting and his brother’s death. He writes:

“ ‘ We have had it pretty hard this while back. Hughie died of wounds on April 22. I did all I could for him, but I am proud of him all the same as he served his country.

“ ‘I will tell you how it happened. We were all in billets, having just come out of the trenches, and that night the Germans broke through the French lines, and we were given the  job to stop them and take the trenches they had captured.

“ ‘ So we had to run about three miles, and we were given the order to fix bayonets and charge. We took the trench and captured and killed the Germans.

“ ‘Hughie and I came through the charge all right, but the next day the Germans shelled the trench and Hughie and two of his pals  were hit by the same shell. They were all wounded, so it was up to me to get them out of the trench. I dressed two of them – one was hit on the wrist pretty bad – and Hugh and the other each had several shrapnel bullets in them.

“ ‘I dressed Hughie and was taking him over with the help of a soldier called Butler, when a German sniper shot at the wounded soldier, and poor Hughie only lived only lived through it five hours. He was shot in the stomach.

“ ‘The dirty curs. If they would fight fair, it would be all right, but the dirty devils, they can’t fight clean. They kill the wounded and use gas, which will kill you if you get a dose of it.

“ ‘You have to be very careful here. This is a terrible war – murder. I hope in God’s name it will come to a close soon. There are only five of Company C left; they have all been killed or wounded.’

“ Pte. Hugh Dunbas was a native of Girvan, and was 22 years old. He was a son of the late Robert Dunbar and Mrs. Dunbar., 2 Arran view, Girvan. He served his apprenticeship to the ironmongery trade with James Croside, Dalrymple street, Girvan, and after the death of his mother, he lived with his aunt, Mrs. McKinley, before emigrating to Hamilton, Ontario, Canada three years ago.

“With his brother Robert, he came over with the first Canadian contingent, and while that force was in training at Salisbury Plain before proceeding to the front, his brother and he twice paid a visit to relations in Glasgow and Girvan in November and at the New Year. He was a fine type of young man, and was well-liked by everyone that knew him. As a boy in Girvan, he was connected with the local company of the Boys’ Brigade, and when a trop of boy scouts was formed in Girvan, he also identified himself with that body

“Six years ago, he figured as one of the principals in a heroic incident.

“May 29, 1905, three local youths - William Crorkan, William McKnight, Hugh and David Sloan - went for a sail outside the harbor in a small row boat which capsized, and David Sloan was drowned. The other of whom Hugh is now a gunner in the Royal Field Artillery and has been at the front ince the beginning of the war – were gallantly rescued by three boy scouts, the late Pte. Dunbar, Colin McQueen and Angus McQueen. For his bravery, Pte. Dunbar, along with his two companions received from headquarters of the boy scouts in London, the award of a silver medal.

“The news of Pte. Dunbar’s death was received in Girvan and Glasgow with feelings of deep regret and on all hands expressions of sympathy have been made with sorrowing relations.’ ” ¹

¹ “Pte. Dunbar Did His Little Bit : Hamilton Highlander Was Splendid Type of Soldier”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 14, 1915.

Sandy Selkirk’s note which accompanied the article on Pte. Dunbar to the Spectator, added a personal note, saying cheerfully, “I had a close shave last night, but am still dodging them!”

 

1915 - Lusitania

It was nearly a full month since the steamship, Lusitania, had been torpedoed and sank off the coast of Ireland. Almost 1200 passengers of the big ship perished as a result of the incident.

Several Hamiltonians had been among passengers on that fateful voyage, and one of the most well-known of them was Mrs. Georgina A. Young, who drowned as did her husband J. M. Young who was with her.

The bodies of both J. M. and Georgina Young were not immediately recovered. Weeks after the sinking, Mrs. Young’s remains were located and sent back across the Atlantic for burial in her home city, Hamilton.

On June 1, 1915, the Hamilton Spectator carried the following article regarding Mrs. Young :

“The remains of Georgina A. Young, wife of J. M. Young, both of whom were drowned with the sinking of the Lusitania, will be conveyed to Hamilton cemetery for internment this afternoon from the family residence, Oak Bank, 301 South James street.

“The body arrived in the city this morning.”¹

¹ “Mrs. Young’s Body : Remains Arrived Today and Will Be buried this Afternoon.”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 1, 1915.

 

 

1915-06-14st

Even though the beautiful property on the north shore overlooking the bay was far outside Hamilton’s 1915 city limits, the Hamilton Parks board had purchased the land. It was anticipated that Hamilton’s continued growth would expand the city limits completely around the bay and the property would no longer be within East Flamboro Township but within the city proper.

On June 13, 1915, George Wild, the chairman of the works committee of the Hamilton Parks board, invited a representative of the Hamilton Spectator to tour the property, and see the improvements which had recently been made there.

Soon to be opened officially as Wabassa Park, the property had an area of about 55 acres, most of it well-wooded with fine elms and maples.

There were a host of improvements made to the property by June 1915, all done with the goal of making Wabassa Park one of Hamilton’s most attractive beauty spots and a location which large numbers of citizens would use for recreational pursuits:

“Adjacent to the park proper and surrounded by large trees, which afford protection from wind and sun, is a well-arranged five acre athletic field, while, separated from this, also by a row of giant trees, is another but smaller athletic grounds, which has been designed for softball and children’s games.

“In the park itself are convenient tables and benches for the accommodation of picnic parties, a large and well-managed refreshment stand, a spacious pavilion in the course of erection, a checking booth and swings for the little folks, to the number of forty.”¹

¹ “Wabassa Park in Fine Shape : Many Improvements on the North Shore Beauty Spot.”

Hamilton Spectator.     June 14, 1915.

As the reporter was shown around the park, he was told that many more improvements were planned for both the short term and long term.

In the short term, a merry-go-round was to be added to the park’s amenities. In the long term, the parks board planned to develop a full scale nursey on the property from which it was planned to grow floral additions to beautify the grounds as well as to grow trees to replace those on the property that might die or need to be removed.

Another longer term goal was to clear a large portion of the shoreline into a protected place for bathing.

New docks, constructed of stone and cement, were almost completed by June 1915, but the old dock was still in heavy use:

“Hundreds of Hamilton citizens are taking advantage of the new park, and the hourly ferry service across the bay.

“From early morning until late in the afternoon yesterday, the ferry was kept busy carrying men, women and children to Wabassa park, and in anticipation of increasing crowds, another ferry will be provided so as to ensure a satisfactory service.”¹

The Spectator reporter completed his article by the following invitation to the readers of the Great Family Journal :

“Those who do not travel to the park by the regular ferry service will find it a most delightful drive to Wabassa along the Waterdown road and then along the main entrance road to the park.”¹

Photo courtesy PreVIEW, Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library

 

 

 

 

 

1915-04-09oo

For Private John Inglis his service in the Great War was short. A resident of Hamilton’s Strachan street, Private Inglis had been among the first to volunteer with the Thirteenth in August, 1914.

However, on April 9, 1915, the soldier was back in Hamilton, invalidated home because of a serious bout of blood-poisoning, the result of an accident to him while on trench duty.

A reporter for the Hamilton Times sought out the soldier that day and the next day’s Times carried what the reporter called “an interesting story of the accident that befell him and of life in the trenches, with the bullets flying all around, injured men moaning; also of the comradeship that develops among those near one another, and on duty at the firing line.”¹

¹ “From the Trenches in Old France : Pte. John Inglis, Strachan Street Invalided Home.”

Hamilton Times .   April 10, 1915.

Private Inglis had been doing trench duty at Le Bas  just eight days, when, during a lull in the fighting, he decided to go to the rear to quench his thirst:

“After walking back in the darkness and wet, a distance of fifty yards, he stumbled into a hole made by a ‘Jack Johnson’ shell, over ten feet deep. The shell had been fired by the Germans during the day, in an effort to destroy the trenches, which were then occupied by the Canadians.

“It was drizzling rain and Private Inglis was unable to see the hole in the darkness. He yelled as he fell into the trap and was rescued immediately. It was apparent that he had been injured and he was rushed to the field aid hospital and thence transferred to the base where he was treated for injury to his stomach, which afterwards developed into blood poisoning. Realizing that it would be a long while before the soldier could do duty again, it was decided to invalid him home.”¹

In conversation with Private Inglis, the Times reporter learned of the horrors soldiers on the front line faced, such as seeing his comrades laughing and chatting with one another one minute, and the next minute seeing them writhing in pain upon being shot or struck by a shell:

“ ‘Of course, we do not see many killed. We are stretched out in the trenches and in touch only with say a dozen on either side of us. We do not walk around much in the trenches. That was dangerous as the German snipers were at work all the time.’ “¹

Private Inglis told the reporter that the Canadians displayed no nervousness or timidity when ordered into the trenches:

“ ‘Of course, the veterans of the South African war steadied us a lot. They had been there before and were not alarmed by the flying shells and rifle fire. We took courage from them and an hour after taking up our positions in a trench for the first time, we were tickled to death to be in there.

“ ‘No, the soldier doesn’t watch when he is hit. One young fellow, I don’t know where he was from, was shot through the body. He rolled over in agony and moaned a few times, and then was silent. As they were picking him up to carry him away to the hospital, he faintly murmured ‘Mother, mother.’ That was all he said, and I never heard of him again.  I don’t know what his name was but he was game to the core, and tried to smile as he was carried past us. He was shot through the body and probably fills an unmarked grave on the far off French plains now.’ ”¹

The Times reporter ended his column with his observation that while Private Inglis attempted to add some jollity to the account of his experiences in France, there was definitely more that was lingering in his memory:

“ There was a good deal of humor in the recital of events at the front by the young soldier, but through his narrative always was felt the strain of the unutterable sadness of the young men and old men, one moment gay and the next moment victims of the deadly bullet."

1915-06-14dg

Even though the majority of Hamiltonians were preoccupied with the events of the war in Western Europe, there were some elements in the city that carried on with business as usual.

The criminal element was still very much a presence in Hamilton in 1915, robbers in particular. Notably vulnerable targets of robberies were members of the city’s taxi driver population.

Such was very much the case on June 12, 1915:

“Frank Phippa, 29 Tisdale street, a taxi driver, told the police yesterday that he was thrown out of his car by three passengers at the High Level Bridge on Saturday night, and left in an unconscious condition, while the passengers drove off with his automobile.”¹

¹ “Thrown From Auto : Taxi Driver Says Passengers Heaved Him Out and Stole Auto”

Hamilton  Spectator.    June 14, 1915.

The taxi driver gave a full statement about his unnerving experience when he was interviewed by a man from the Spectator:

“Phippa claims he was hired to drive the three men to Ancaster. He did so and everything went alright until the High Level Bridge was reached on the return trip.

“Phippa can’t remember just what happened then, but he believes a bag was pulled over his head and he was tossed out on the road. When he revived, the car and the passengers had disappeared.”¹

The taxi driver indicated that he had given the police a good description of the robbers and a thorough investigation had been promised.

When the morning edition of the Spectator hit the streets, the robbers’ identities and location had not been determined, but it was discovered that the taxi cab had been found abandoned in Oakville.

1915-04-02ef

“On Thursday afternoon an official, at the east end police station, called up the residence of Sergeant Hawkins and imparted the information to a member of the household need not report for duty that night.”

Hamilton Spectator.   April 2, 1915.

For the member of Police Sergeant William Hawkins’ family, it was a surprise to hear that he was being told not to report for his upcoming shift at the police station.

It would turn that Sergeant Hawkins’ connection with the Hamilton Police department was over.

The news of what had happened was soon widely known. The city as a whole learned what had happened when the Spectator published a fiery reaction to the situation.

The article, appearing on April 2, 1915, began with an overview of just who “Bill” Hawkins was and what he had contributed to the Hamilton police force :

“Sergeant Hawkins is one of the best-equipped police officers that the city has ever had. A man of wide experience, of excellent judgment; in the prime of health; fit and capable in every way, one would suppose that it was in the best interests of the citizens and the police force itself to retain a man of that type as long as possible.

“Sergeant Hawkins joined the force thirty-two years ago next July. He has had fourteen years on the desk of the central station, and, since 1896, has been in charge of the patrol system, a service requiring a knowledge of electrical matters which the sergeant specially qualified himself at his own expense years ago.”¹

¹ “Red Tape”

Hamilton Spectator.   April 2, 1915.

It was not a case of dereliction of duty or of conduct unbecoming a member of the police force that prompted Hawkins’ sudden removal from active duty. It was the follow up to a conversation at a recent meeting of the police commissioners , reported in the local press, about Sergeant Hawkins’ status:

“Under the present rules of the police force, a man who has served at least thirty years, must retire at the age of 60 years. Sergeant Hawkins is the first victim of this foolish and arbitrary enactment.

“The regulation, by the way, does apply to the chief, to the deputy chief or to the inspectors, there is no limit for them. The manliness of police sergeants ceases automatically, under this arrangement, at 60 years, but not so with their superior officers, who can hang on until public opinion pries them from their jobs.”¹

There had been some speculation that Sergeant Hawkins’ time on the force could be extended, or some arrangement might be made whereby he might work in some clerical capacity with the force and at the same time be available to maintain and repair the patrol system as required.

Not only was the Spectator opposed to the enforced retirement of William Hawkins, there was hostility expressed as to how he was informed of his fate:

“His family was curtly notified by telephone that his 22 years’ valuable service was summarily ended. In plain English, he was ‘kicked out.’ He didn’t even have the satisfaction of a note from Sam Kent, the secretary of the police commissioners, that his term of office had expired.

“Such is the reward of faithful service as meted out by the Hamilton police commissioners.”¹

The Spectator ended its report of the retirement of Sergeant Hawkins by noing that as of April 1915, the Hamilton Police Force was the only one in Canada or the United States that had a regulation forcing retirement on members of the police force at the age of 60, excepting, of course, chiefs, deputy chiefs and inspectors.

About a week later, the Spectator was able to report that arrangements were being made to retain Bill Hawkins on the force. He was to have a desk position at the central station where he would continue to be in charge of the patrol system, plus some other unspecified duties.

The Hamilton Police commission was a three man board, comprise of the mayor, the Wentworth County judge and the police magistrate.

Hamilton Mayor Chester Walters publicly stated his position that Sergeant Hawkins was too valuable a member of the force to be placed on the pension list. Wentworth County Judge Snider expressed his agreement with the mayor and said that he was working with the mayor to resolve the matter.

It was Police Magistrate George Jelfs who was the cog in the wheel as he emphatically clung to the notion that a strict interpretation of the rules in place must be followed, with no exceptions.

In a related matter, there was a mad scramble to fill the position that Sergeant Hawkins once held, knowing that were he to remain on the force, it would be with a different status than he had previously had.

At least two of the current patrol sergeants were known to be interested in receiving a promotion. Also the police chief and the deputy chief were to be asked for their recommendations as to Hawkins’ successor.

Police Magistrate Jelfs, although a strict interpreter of the retirement regulation, questionably involved himself personally in the promotions resulting from the enforced retirement of Sergeant Hawkins:

Several members of the force had been actively canvassing for support in their efforts to be promoted

“Some old-fashioned wire-pulling is being done. All this is being done in spite of the fact that one of the rules of the department is that there is to be no solicitation for promotion by any of the men. Those who do solicit promotion are not to be considered, according to the rules.”²

² “Mad Scramble for a Vacant Police Post”

Hamilton Spectator.   April 8, 1915