Bonnie Burr - 1913

The first stories began to appear in the Hamilton Herald during the month of June 1913. A mysterious lady, who the local newspaper reporters dubbed “the Pink Mask Girl” was infiltrating New York City’s high society circles, then disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

        When she finally granted an interview with the press, she identified herself as Bonnie Burr and claimed that she could alter her appearance in less than a minute and disappear into a crowd. When challenged by a representative of the Herald “to a contest of wits with the people of Hamilton,” Bonnie accepted. “I will go to Hamilton and show the general public of that city that one girl can fool them all.”

        Over the next few days, the rules of the contest were laid down. Bonnie Burr would appear in public at places and times announced by the Herald. While she would always be in disguise, she would never dress as a man. Photographs of her would appear daily in the Herald, showing her in the disguises she had worn on the day before.

Any resident of Hamilton or within 25 miles of Hamilton was eligible to participate in the contest. To win one had to approach Bonnie with a copy of the current day’s Herald and greet her with the following salutation : “Pardon me, you are the mysterious Bonnie Burr, of the Hamilton Herald, famous for results.”

The prize was $100, payable in gold.

Bonnie Burr’s first public appearance in Hamilton was in front of the Herald office, just west of the corner of King and James streets. She was not in disguise so that every one would have a chance to study her features for the upcoming contest.

A great crowd gathered, blocking all traffic along King street west. Hundreds watched from the windows of adjacent buildings as Bonnie spoke to the assembled about the contest. She then left in her fancy automobile, a Canadian Tudhope 6-48.

Several ambitious motorists tried to follow her but she wrote the following day that “just for a joke I let them keep pace with my car for awhile, then suddenly I let my Tudhope skim away like a bird, leaving my pursuers like mere specks in the distance.”

Everyday, Bonnie Burr would write in the Herald of her adventures on the previous day. Her articles also served to promote certain businesses which used her visit for publicity purposes.

Her first article talked of her trip to Hamilton from New York City aboard the Toronto, Hamilton and Buffalo Railway’s famous train, “The Canadian.”

Described as an all-steel train of palatial elegance, electrically lighted throughout,” The Canadian left New York City on Wednesday at 8:02 p.m. and arrived in Hamilton at 9:45 a.m. the following day.

Bonnie, describing her approach to Hamilton over the T.H. & B. lines on The Canadian, wrote that she could “smell the sweet fragrance of the fields of clover in the country. Summer flowers blossomed in a riot of colour all along the tracks; daisies, buttercups and bright-hued posies. The view from the train between Vinemount and Hamilton overlooking the lowland or fruit belt with Lake Ontario for a background is unsurpassed anywhere.”

Bonnie Burr’s first impression of Hamilton was that the city was a “flourishing, interesting metropolis with fine shops, imposing buildings and alert, up-to-date people. Everybody seems so happy and full of energy, a marked contrast to the jaded, world-weary Gothamites.”

Bonnie Burr’s first disguised appearance, as announced in the Herald was at King and James streets, between 7:30 and 8:30 p.m., on the evening of June 26, 1913.

A tremendous throng gathered at that location and there was an intense air of excitement in the air. Bonnie appeared, as announced, but was not recognized. She overheard the following conversation : “Fred, don’t you believe there is such a person as Bonnie Burr?

“No,” scoffed the young chap, “these people are fools to stand here.”

“Then why are we here?” the young lady asked. Her escort looked uncomfortable for a moment, then replied, “Oh, just to see the fun, little girl.”

Bonnie’s next appearance was announced as to take place the next evening at the corner of Young and James streets, between seven and eight o’clock in the evening. Again, large crows gathered, but no one recognized Bonnie, who had posed as a Salvation Army girl, passing the tambourine.

During her hour at the designated corner, Bonnie went up to a group of men to solicit a donation. One of them said to her, “I’m sorry, I have no change. I’ll tell you what, if you can point out Bonnie Burr, I’ll donate $25 to the Army.

Over the next few weeks, Bonnie Burr visited locations all over the city of Hamilton, but was not captured. Once, while leaving The Right House, a three year old tot looked up at her and said, “Hello, Bonnie.” The child’s mother, embarrassed, but laughing, remarked, “Even the children are looking for Bonnie Burr!”

An appearance at Summer’s Mountain Theatre was one of Bonnie Burr’s most “dangerous” outings. Accompanied by an escort to avert suspicion, Bonnie had to enter the theatre through a gauntlet of searchers who sized up all the ladies present with comical intensity.

The play, an English farce, performed by the Summer’s Stock Company, “inspired fits of merriment,” in the audience. Other moments of laughter came when unsuspecting ladies, walking up the centre aisle of the theatre were accused, much to their dismay, of being Bonnie Burr.

The Mountain Theatre, located at the top of the Wentworth Street Incline Railway, was described by Bonnie Burr as “an ideal place to pass a summer’s evening, open to the fresh breeze of the summer night.” The theatre’s location, Bonnie felt, “gives one the sensation of being in a great balloon as one looks down in contemplation of the twinkling lights of Hamilton.”

On an afternoon free from disguised appearances, Bonnie decided to spend some time relaxing in Dundurn Park. A persistent flirt, nattily dressed, came up to her. With an exaggerated bow, he doffed his hat and said, “Hello Bonnie.”

Deliberately sitting himself beside her, he introduced himself as “Romeo.” When Bonnie rose to move away, he said “Don’t be in a hurry, Bonnie.” Leaving in a huff, she quickly headed towards nearby residential streets hotly pursued by “Romeo.”

“I’ll call the police, if you don’t stop following me,” Bonnie warned her pursuer.

“Oh, Bonnie, I double, double dare you.”

“If you think I’m Bonnie Burr, why don’t you salute me?”

Not having the latest edition of the Herald, “Romeo” could only keep her in sight as she led him away from any stores. Spotting a street car about to come up York street, she hailed it “with a loud tom boy whistle.” Jumping on the car as soon as it slowed down, Bonnie left Romeo chasing behind the street car waving his hat in the air.

For several weeks, the search for Bonnie Burr continued. Gradually her disguises became less and less elaborate, yet still she was not captured. One of her final appearances was on July 12, at the corner of Barton street and James Street North, where she was part of the Orange Parade.

While walking along the street, Bonnie overheard the following conversation : “Well, I hope I can catch this Bonnie Burr person so I will get something to at when I get home tonight. My wife’s gone looney over this affair and I’m starving. I’ll catch her before I go home tonight.”

At this point, Bonnie Passed in front of the man and “accidentally” dropped her purse. The man picked it up for her then carried on with his boast that he was going to capture Bonnie Burr.

The end of the contest came inside the G. W. Robinson store. By this time, Bonnie wore no disguise at all. A woman spotted her but was unable to repeat the salutation correctly. Another woman, standing nearby, Mrs. Allan Campbell of Fullerton Avenue, stepped to Bonnie. With a copy of the Herald in her possession, she then correctly recited the salutation.

Bonnie immediately identified herself and took Mrs. Campbell to the Herald Office, a large crowd following them both. Because the winner had a sale check from the Right House in her possession, she won a mahogany dining room suite as well as the one hundred dollars in gold.

Bonnie Burr’s final appearance in Hamilton was on stage at the Temple Theatre where she presented Mrs. Campbell with her prizes. After this ceremony, Bonnie Burr left Hamilton, ready to baffle the inhabitants of other cities with her disguises.

Accident - 1910

Late in the afternoon, Thursday, June 30, 1910, Dorothy Hobson, aged 16, and her friend Susan Perkins, were returning home by automobile from a charitable visit to the Mountain Sanatorium.

          The chauffeur, Keith McRae, was guiding the Russell touring car down a steep incline at about 12 m.p.h. when the machine began to sway back and forth across the dusty road. Suddenly, it crashed through a low plank fence and hurtled over the 40 foot embankment.

          Residents in the vicinity of the area where the John Street mountain access met Strongman’s Road were startled by the rumbling noise of the automobile as it rolled down the embankment, ending its terrible journey with a sickening thud.

          The next sounds to be heard were the moans and scream of Dorothy Hobson, who was trapped in the overturned vehicle.

          George Clarkson, who lived nearby, rushed to the scene to find Susan Perkins on the floor of the car, between the back and front seats. Miss Perkins was dead.

          The chauffeur was wandering about the road in a bewildered state, completely unaware of where he was and what had happened. Dorothy was found on the floor of the vehicle, pleading piteously : “Take me out! Oh, please rescue me!”

          When Dorothy Hobson was removed from the car, the pain of her injuries became so intense that she began to beat her hands on the ground in an attempt to give vent to the overpoweringly agonizing pain she was feeling.

          Mr. Clarkson was about to try to carry Dorothy to St. Joseph’s Hospital at the base of the John street road when the automobile of George Lynch-Staunton happened along. After gently being placed in that car, Miss Hobson was rushed to the hospital, arriving in a very few minutes.

          The evening after the accident, the toll of injuries was added up.

          Chauffeur McRae had suffered a major scalp wound, a badly cut ear and some internal injuries. Susan Perkins had died from a broken neck and spine, her skull was fractured, nearly all her ribs were broken and her face was badly cut. Mercifully, her death was instanteous.

          Dorothy Hobson was in very bad shape. As well as numerous cuts about her body, her back was severely injured and she suffered from numerous undisclosed internal injuries.

          Late in the evening when she occasionally recovered consciousness, she would selflessly turn to her mother who was at her side and say, “Be brave, mother.”

          Dorothy’s father, Robert Hobson, manager of the Hamilton Steel and Iron Company, was in Montreal on business at the time of the accident, but hurried home on the first available train after he read the telegram informing him of the accident.

          The cause of the accident was never fully determined as Chauffeur McRae completely lost all recollection of the incident. The police investigation concluded that either the steering gear of the machine went out of order, or, that the wind had blown dust into McRae’ eyes causing him to lose control of the automobile.

          Chauffeur McRae recovered fairly rapidly, but Dorothy Hobson’s sufferings carried on for two months. Even though in intense pain, she would always appear cheerful when her parents or relatives were near, often collapsing under the strain after they left her room.

          After each visit, the effort to remain hopeful became more and more difficult until it was physically impossible for her to continue to hide the frightful agony she was suffering.

          Mercifully she lapsed into an unconscious state at 6 o’clock, Saturday evening, September 3, 1910, and died seven hours later at 1 a.m.

          All three Hamilton daily newspapers lauded Dorothy’s courage in editorials which appeared after her passing.

          The Hamilton Times noted that “she bore her weeks of suffering with much patient heroism and left, with those having her care, the memory of sweetness and gentility that will not fade.”

          The Hamilton Herald editorial praised Miss Hobson’s “splendid heroism and saint-like patience” and noted that she was “a carefree girl, lively, active, spirited” but not particularly known for her “magnanimity or capacity for self-abnegation.” However, after the accident the “latent beauty and nobility of the sufferer’s character were developed and revealed.”

         

Cocaine - 1912

On November 18, 1912 August 1, 1912, a plain clothes officer with the Hamilton Police Department told a reporter with the Hamilton Herald the news that a locally-prominent citizen had approached Police Chief Smith with the information that Hamilton had become a centre for the use and distribution of cocaine, and that “the habit was not only prevalent among degenerates,” but also among many in the city’s upper classes.

        The physician, whose identity the plain clothes police officer refused to reveal, told the story of “a well-connected young woman who was the victim of the habit.”

        For the past several weeks, the physician had noticed a change in the young lady’s demeanor. She would be alternately high strung and giddy, or morose and depressed.

        Concluding that the twenty-one year old woman was taking drugs, the physician informed her mother about his suspicions.

        A search was made of the young lady’s bedroom while she had gone out one afternoon. In a pocket of a disused skirt found in her clothes closet, a small bottle containing a little more than an ounce of cocaine was discovered.

        It was decided to let her finish that portion of her supply, but to secretly follow her when she went to get more.

        In three days, her clothes closet was again checked and the bottle was found to be nearly empty.

That night, after she told her parents that she was going to the theatre with a girl friend, she was followed to a house on MacNab street north, where she was admitted at once.

        Her father who was among those who followed the young lady, went up to the door of the MacNab street house, and knocked.

        A black woman answered the door, and seeing a man who she did not recognize, refused him admission, tried to block him from entering the house.

        Simply pushing her aside, the father stomped through the doorway.

As told to the Herald reporter, inside the front entrance was “a large room fitted up lavishly” where the daughter was discovered “lying in a stupor upon a divan.”

        The reporter was also told that “in the same room were three or four white women, two negroes and a businessman of this city.”

        One of the “negroes” was a rather large man unfamiliar with the man who burst into the room. After asking the father if he was there for a reading, a stormy scene broke out, and the penitent daughter was dragged away.

        The next day, the young lady was sent to a retreat in the hope that a prolonged abstinence from the drug would cure her habit.

        The large man who offered to tell the fortune of the cocaine victim’s father was from New York City, where it was alleged that he had jumped bail on a drug charge.

The Herald reporter discovered that the man was “a crystal gazer, but it is said he is only a trickster who feeds his designs as a cocaine peddler in this way.”

        The police officer concluded his tip to the Herald reporter with the observation that “many women of some prominence frequented this house on MacNab street: “if you knew some of the women that had been going there, you would be astonished. For the most part, they are fashionable.”

        The Hamilton police were determined to break up the MacNab street “joint” and the plain clothes officer promised, “arrests were expected to follow.”

1912 - Foreigners

On August 31, 1912, the Hamilton Herald published an article under the headline, “Hamilton a Melting Pot For Many Races : Raw Material Is There Being Converted Into Canadian Citizenship By Steady Process.”

        The Herald reporter described his experiences while visiting the northeast section of the Hamilton of 1912 to witness first hand and report on how recent immigrants were adapting to their new country.

        In 1912, there were at least a dozen different ethnic groups living between Wentworth Street North and the Hamilton Jockey Club.

        Gradually these immigrant groups were being assimilated into the mainstream of life in Hamilton, while, at the same time, retaining most of their native customs.

        The Herald reporter was accompanied by Police Inspector David Coulter, of the East End station, on the journey around the Crown Point district.

        Knowing which nationality owned which home, the members of the Hamilton police department, working out of the east end station, had an important role to play in the assimilation of new immigrants.

        As described by the man from the Herald, “the east end police station is a human distributing agency. Everyday, the foreigner with not a word of English comes into the station and shoves over the dirty note with an address scribbled on it and is directed to his new home, secured by sacrifice and often a wrench of the binding ties of his home in the old land, but upheld by the glorious prospect of wealth, freedom and last, but not least, a future for the dark-eyed tots at home who will come out later. This is the first work of the policeman.”

        A major part of police work in the “foreign” district was directed as much toward the prevention of crime as to the pursuit of criminal violators of the law.

        The recent immigrant living in Hamilton usually was completely unaware of Canadian law and hence would just proceed to live according to the customs of his homeland. However, he would soon find out that such practices as the carrying of concealed weapons for self-protection was unacceptable. Usually one warning would be enough to cease the practice. If not, an appearance at the police court would do the trick.

        Quite often, the police relied on the children of the area to act as interpreters when the police needed to get information from those who spoke no English. As well as picking up the language easily, the children of the district were quicker to absorb the main aspects of the Canadian lifestyle.

        However, as the Herald reporter noted, “even with the young becoming Canadianized, there is still enough of the old blood left in them to cause them to pursue some of the lamentable customs of their homeland.”

        Housing in the “foreign” section in and around the Crown Point district was of very poor quality. Virtually every house was a boarding house, with the number of residents per house running anywhere from fourteen to sixty.

        Every room, except the dining room and the kitchen, would contain at least six beds. There would even be beds set up in the basement.

        Every bed would be occupied at all hours of the day and night, as the boarding house residents would sleep in shifts, with as the reporter noted, as many bodies to the bed “as the temperature and temperament of the bedmates would allow.”

        Most of the boarding house visited by the Herald reporter were usually in a very unsanitary condition with little or no evidence of scrubbing or sweeping. Many of the lawns were overgrown and few flower or vegetable gardens laid out.

        The attitude of most recent immigrants to Hamilton at the time was that the boarding house was just a place in which to eat and sleep. The Herald reporter did observe that the younger immigrant and those who had been in Canada the longest were “beginning to learn a few secrets of at least rough home comforts.”

        The Herald man reflected the general attitudes and prejudices of long-time Hamilton residents towards recent immigrants, writing that they all had “healthy booze appetites, which they proceeded to satisfy by the keg.”

“Beer,” the reporter pointed out, “was more plentiful than water in the foreign district, being second in place of tea or coffee.” The police had some success toning down the penchant for “booze festivals” among the newcomers, but did relax the rules somewhat for wedding celebrations which sometimes ran on for days, the groom being “the most generous and sociable fellow in the colony.”

The Herald reporter went on to describe in detail a man he considered to be a somewhat typical example of the recent immigrant to Hamilton in 1912. In a somewhat unfortunately demeaning description, the reporter named his character Tony, because “he is Tony by name, and ‘toney’ by nature.”

A fine-looking chap, Toney was a frequent visitor to the Beach Strip, and thus concluded hat to look like a typical Canadian, he needed to wear duck trousers and tan shoes.

So far so good, the reporter went one, but, “either his money fails, or Tony’s idea of harmony in dress is all astray,” because “while the trousers and shoes look fine, Tony completes his outfit with a flannel shirt and a heavy coat.”

The Herald reporter concluded his pen picture of recent immigrants by saying that “the rest of them are like Tony and they delight in a full array of colours, they imitate the Canadians but persist in following their traditions and getting some colour on somewhere.”

An immigrant newly arrived from Poland, Paul Gravetz, was chosen by the Herald man to illustrate the typical story of a newcomer’s experience in Hamilton.

Back in Poland, Paul had learned that Canada was a place where “a man could make money and be under no obligation to government or individual.”

Saving money for steerage passage across the Atlantic Ocean, Paul left his family back in the old country. Arriving in Quebec, he met an immigration officer “who gave him a poke in the ribs and pronounced him O.K. in health.”

After a railroad journey to Hamilton, he went to the police station with the name of an obscure street on a crumpled piece of paper, and the police provided him with specific directions to that locality.

After getting employment in an east end factory, Paul got a room with forty-five others in a boarding house located not far from his new place of employment.

After his pay increased above the bare minimum he received at the start of his employment at the factory, and after he was able to acquire at least a working knowledge of English, Paul was finally able to buy some land and erect a house, which he immediately turned into a boarding house. He also at hat point brought his wife over to act as the boarding house cook.

The Herald reporter was of the opinion that the newcomers generally lived well, but did feel that “they live too much on verandahs, between forty and fifty have been known to sit on one.” Also the police had to teach the foreigners not to block the sidewalks because they were “very fond of the streets,” and were “continually standing out on them.”

Working out of the new police station on Sherman avenue, Inspector Coulter had only two men to cover the district bounded by Wellington Street, Crown Point, the mountain and the bay. Obviously because of that situation, there were many parts of the district that received hardly any police supervision, but Inspector Coulter felt that he “understood the foreigner, and instructed his men to treat them with kindness and patience.”

A popular member of the east end police force was Old Jack, a patrol horse, who, in 1912, was in his twenty-sixth year with the police. Old Jack always seemed, in the words of the Herald man, “to feel the dignity of his position and persisted in keeping his head up like a peacock.”

After being transferred to the east end station when it opened, Old Jack eventually became quite a linguist, being able to understand “whoa” in nine different languages.

Through the investigative work and detailed descriptive powers of a Hamilton Herald reporter conditions in the far northeast section of 1912 for recent immigrants were recorded. The positive, proactive and humane work of the Hamilton police working out of  then brand new Sherman avenue station helped these newcomers to the city and to Canada immensely.

1912 - McAnulty Sale

“Hamilton, in my mind, is one of the most remarkable cities on the American continent.”

                                      J. M. Emerin, sales manager, D. J. McA’Nulty Company.

          One of the largest real estate companies in Canada in the years just before the First World War, the D. J. McA’Nulty chose the north-east section of Hamilton as the location for a major sales campaign.

          In the fall of 1911, the McA’Nulty Company sold a large number of lots in its subdivision located in the vicinity of the Hamilton Jockey Club grounds. A few lots remained to be sold, and a public auction was scheduled for Saturday, July 27, 1912.

          Mr. Emerin, in Hamilton to help the sale, had returned to the city for the first time in six months and had noted the remarkable changes which had occurred. He lauded the “improvements in this city that I have noted in this short space of time cannot be appreciated by the local man.” Emerin was very confident that “Hamilton was destined to be one of the largest cities of Eastern Canada, and even now no place equals it in the number of modern and up-to-date homes.”

          Two days before the auction, large advertisements appeared in all three Hamilton daily newspapers. The auction, as noted in the ads, would include free transportation to and from the property. Hundreds of prizes would be distributed during the progress of the sale. The gifts to be offered included silver tea sets, card trays, and water pitchers, An $800 Mason and Risch player piano headed the prize list.

On the day of the auction, prospective buyers on arrival at the grounds were provided with music played the city’s famous 91^st Highlander Band, under the direction of Harry Stares. The band was widely noted for its stylistically wide ranging musical programme, described in the Hamilton Times as a programme capable of pleasing “everybody from the lover of William Tell to those who have a weakness for ‘Everybody’s Doing It.’

The McA’Nulty tall man, on his stilts was on the ground, “to show how a man 11 feet tall can execute the Turkey Trot and the Grizzly Bear if he really tries.”

With a crowd of approximately 3,000 people present under the large circus tent provided by the McA’Nulty Company, the auction was a major success. Over $160,000 worth of sales on 53 lots were realized in just a few hours.

Mr. C. A. Martin won the player piano prize, while Mr. T. H. C. Smith, of Stirton street, went home with the silver tray service. Everyone else present went home with at least a beautiful silver spoon, presented as they left the grounds after the auction.

It had been a watershed day in the history of Hamilton’s real estate history to that point in time, especially as regards the north-eastern section of the city.

Mr. Daniel J. McA’Nulty himself penned a brief article about Hamilton which was carried in the local press. In the article, he wrote as follows :

Hamilton’s growth is phenomenal but healthy. It is the busiest manufacturing centre of our young and growing nation. The plants that are already here are continually enlarging. New plants are continually coming. They continually demand more workers. Their influx means a constantly growing population, and more people means a demand for more homes. All in all of busy Hamilton – Hamilton Park is the most advanteously placed to benefit by the city’s expansion.”

The real estate expansion in 1912 and the sales in Hamilton Park on July 12, 1912, were a major landmark in that heady era.

         

1911 - Asylum Fire

At 1 a.m., August 1, 1911, a fire alarm was sounded at the Hamilton Asylum for the Insane, marking the discovery of what the Spectator called “probably the most horrible conflagration that it has been the misfortune of the district to suffer.”

          The fire was discovered in a storeroom by night watchman, Fred Basset. After futilely trying to put out the blaze himself, Fred turned in the alarm.

          The asylum’s own fire brigade, under the leadership of Chief Ironsides, had hoses turned on the flames within a matter of minutes. However, the flames were spreading so quickly that a call was soon sent to Hamilton’s Central Fire station requesting immediate assistance.

          Fire Chief Ten Eyck and his men were already out at a lively blaze just past the far west end of Charlton Avenue at the Frid Brick yards. Looking back along the brow of the escarpment, the firemen could see the flames erupting through the roof of the main asylum building.

          “Let her go, boys, you’ve got her now!” yelled the chief to his men. He then ordered that one hose be left at the smoldering brick yard fire scene in case the fire happened to flare up again :   

“Hardly a word escaped the lips of the brave fire ladies as they glanced southward and upward in a grave realization that before them was the real task and that human lives were at stake. Above the clear clanging of the gong and the piercing siren whistle could be heard the commanding tones of the officers as they issued their instructions to the chauffer and those who rode behind. It was a mad race.” (HERALD)

After turning right off Charlton Avenue, the firefighters proceeded up James Street South towards the mountain. When they arrived at the base of the mountain, the tired horses had to stop because they did not have the stamina to pull the heavy equipment up the steep grade.

Fortunately, the chief and a number of his men were riding in the fire department’s new “auto truck” which was able to make the hill at a speed of 15 miles per hour, and delivered the city firemen to the scene of the blaze within 12 minutes of the first alarm.

Aldermen Birch, who had happened to be with the firemen at the Frid brick yards, had the foresight to call ahead to the engineer of the James street Incline Railway who soon had got up enough steam to get the incline in operation, allowing the horse-drawn equipment to be raised to the top of the escarpment.

The firemen quickly connected their hoses and within moments streams of water were trained on the building, aiming for windows. Not content with just this action, the chief sent some men into the building itself.

Running up flight after flight of stairs, carrying hoses, the men finally reached a hall, “along which the flames were spreading as if with a sort of hideous joy.” (Herald)

Stepping directly into the force of the flames, the men gradually drove it back.

“My God, I’m done; take this line; I must have air!” said one of the firemen before he fell from the ranks. Rushing to a window, the fireman broke it with his helmet and thrust his head out gasping for pure air.

“Stick to it, boys, stick to it,” cried the chief who was just behind his men in the dense, smoke-filled corridor, encouraging them in their battle with the flames.

Seeing that his men had secured that hallway, the chief went outside to check on conditions elsewhere in the building. The chief could see flames on the roof of the asylum.

The asylum inmates were in a state of great distress. A Spectator reporter on the scene described the chaos as follows:

“From the roof and the top story windows flashed the angry tongues of fire, while black smoke was belching forth from the building which looked like a volcano. Above the crackling rafters, the crash of the firemen’s axes, and the hiss of water, were the shrieks and screams of the terrified patients, who were rushing from window to window and looking through the iron screens which fortunately prevented them jumping out to sure death. One patient in the refractory ward, which was directly under the section that was burning, was seen rattling the wire screens and foaming with rage.” (SPEC)

From the lower city, the flames “which threw jets to a great height,” could be seen, and soon a stream of people ascended the mountain to watch the spectacle. As these people approached the scene of the fire, the Herald reporter noted that “the screams of the terrified inmates could be heard in the stillness of the night.” (Herald)

The asylum staff immediately put into action an evacuation plan. Great care had to be exercised because there could have been severe difficulties if the patients got out of hand. The Spectator reporter described the inmates as being “without normal self-possession at any time, and under the excitement of their terrible position, were raging mad with terror.”

Generally the evacuation went smoothly, although there was some confusion. Staff members, roused in the middle of the night, just put on any clothes that were handy, and, occasionally, staff members were mistaken for patients, and vice versa.

Fireman Thomas Fitzgerald, a tiller man on truck No. 2 of the Central Fire station, rushed up to the chief and said, “there are some people up there, Chief; I think we had better go up.”

Immediately an extension ladder was set up and the chief ordered Fitzgerald to go up it. Rushing up the ladder “like a squirrel,” Fitzgerald then crawled along a narrow sill outside the windows of the trapped inmates.

“There’s a whole bunch in here,” Fitzgerald called down, “get a life net” In a moment a large net was positioned, held by a team of firefighters, policemen, asylum attendants and civilians.

Time and time again, Fireman Fitzgerald would lunge through a window in an attempt to rescue the terrified old men, who tried to fight off their rescuer. Four men were pulled out of the room and thrown down into the life net.

In describing the rescue afterwards, Fitzgerald told the reporters that “one of the old men was on his knees in front of the screened window with his folded hands held up to the opening. One other old man was lying on the floor, and three were shouting and screaming and dancing about the room.”

After successfully rescuing four men, “Fitz” tried to save a fifth, an inmate who weighed over 200 pounds and was partially paralyzed. After trying unsuccessfully to carry him to the window, the fireman felt the flames blistering his own skin. He could also see the inmate’s body blister and char.

Staggering to the window, Fitzgerald himself was rescued by one of his comrades.

“You’re a brick, Tom, you’re a brick,” the firemen told Fitzgerald as he was carried down the ladder. After he collapsed into unconsciousness, Fitzgerald was laid out on the grass and was brought around in a few minutes.

Just after Fitzgerald had been dragged to safety, the roof of the fourth floor fell inward. Any further rescues were impossible. After a two hour battle, the asylum fire was officially declared to be out at 3 a.m.

Clearing away the rubble of the collapsed roof, the firefighters and policemen began “the melancholy task of removing the remains, (a task which) was rendered particularly gruesome by reason of the terribly burned condition of some of the bodies. (SPEC)

A few of the bodies were discovered “in attitudes of prayer, others looked as if shrinking from the flames.”

One by one, the bodies and pieces of bodies were carried out on a stretcher by “four bare-headed policemen in a gruesome procession” to a small building behind the furnace house. Eight asylum inmates perished in the blaze.

Among the spectators at the asylum fire were many relatives of inmates. Confusion reigned as to the names of the dead and nothing could be done to allay anyone’s fears until the bodies could be identified and all the other inmates accounted for.

Colonel John Hendrie was instrumental in coordinating any information coming from the asylum. He arranged for an official list of the dead to be drawn up as quickly as possible so that relatives could be informed.

Early the next morning, Police Constable Reynolds noticed a peculiar individual sitting alone on a Gore Park bench.

“What are you doing here?” the constable asked.

“Oh, I just heard that the silver king was going to give away money this morning at 10 o’clock and I thought I would get down here to the bank in time,” was the response.

Recognizing the man as “an escaped lunatic,” the constable asked him how he got downtown. He answered, “Oh, we had a big fire up there and I got away about 5:30 this morning.”

After describing the flames in great detail, the man was ordered to come with the police officer. He tried to dash away but was soon collared by Constable Reynolds.

“I’ll go along because I told want to have any trouble with a man your size, you’re too big!” the asylum patient said of his decision to give up.

Also the morning after the fire, a delegation from the provincial government arrived in the city to investigate the cause of the blaze at the asylum. Provincial Inspector E. R. Rogers, F. R. Heaks, provincial architect and D. M. Metcalf, mechanical inspector of the department of public works immediately set up an office. Fred Basset and several other employees of the Hamilton asylum were seen being taken away in cabs to be interviewed by the men from Toronto.

The Hamilton Asylum for the Insane, Ontario’s largest with an inmate population of 1231 and a staff of 175, had been built thirty four years earlier, in 1877. The institution was considered to have some major drawbacks, especially the overcrowded nature of most of the wards.

Hamilton Controller Bailey, inspecting the scene of the tragic fire, noticed that there were small rooms which held 11 beds and some rooms, only slightly larger, held 14 beds. “It is a shame,” he said, “to make these poor people sleep like that. It is not sanitary and it is certainly not right that unfortunates should be made to sleep under such conditions.”

“Many Theories as to Cause of Asylum Fire : Authorities Refuse to Speak Till the Inquest : Work of Restoration Has Already Been Started”

Hamilton Spectator August 2, 1911

The community has not recovered today from the horror caused by the terrible holocaust at the Hamilton asylum in the early hours of yesterday morning, and it was the subject of conversation in all quarters. Most of the talk centered around the possible causes of outbreak, and in the absence of  specific information on the subject, all sorts of alarming and fantastic theories were discussed and disseminated. To the ordinary but highly imaginative personage, the theory of the fire being started by an elementary piece of badly-insulated electric light wire was much too unromantic, and nothing short of a fiendish scheme on the part of some desperate maniac to destroy the building and the lives of hundreds would be accepted by them as a solution of the enigma of how the conflagration was initiated.

The asylum authorities, though more reticent than ever this morning, dismissed the fiend and match theories as preposterous pointing out that the place where the blaze obviously originated was in the storeroom, which was not accessible at the time to the patients. It was also stated that none of them are allowed matches either.

Much discussion is going on over the fact that the main building is not provided with fire escapes, and many argue that this should be remedied at once.

Among the other stories going the rounds is one about the fire engine of the asylum not being in working order, this being given as the reason why the fire spread so rapidly after it was discovered. In connection with this, Dr. English, the superintendent, said that the fire apparatus of the asylum worked splendidly, though he would not specify whether the engine was working or not, stating that such questions could only be answered by the coroner’s jury.

George Lynch-Staunton, K. C., has been appointed by the government to look after its interests at the inquest which will be held on Friday evening. He went up to the asylum yesterday afternoon, and had a long talk with Dr. English, explaining that his conversation was simply to enable him to familiarize himself with the details of the fire.

Another conference was held yesterday afternoon between Hon. John S. Hendrie, Dr. English and Provincial Inspector Rogers, at which it was decided to go ahead at once with the restoration work. The reason why the government is in such a hurry to get the repairing started is because the asylum is very much crowded, and the accommodation provided by the section burned out is badly needed.

Inspector Rogers left the city last night for Toronto, but positively declined to give out further information, stating that anything more that he had to say he would put into the report that he would make to the department.

          HISTORY AND DATA

The Hamilton asylum for the insane was completed and first occupied in 1877, being originally intended as an inebriate asylum. It was from the beginning, however, adapted to general purposes of an insanity hospital and asylum. The main building is a large red brick structure, with a corridor running through the centre, dividing the building into two wings, one used for the men, the other for women. An addition has been built o the men’s wing since 1877 – practically a separate “cottage.” A number of such cottages have been subsequently erected on the grounds.

The Hamilton asylum is the largest in the province, having an insane population of 1,231 in June of this year. The attendants in direct attendance upon the insane are calculated at the ratio of one to eleven. In the United States one to seven or eight is the rule. Hamilton has 175 employees altogether, including farmers and gardeners for the large grounds cultivated, and mechanics. The medical staff includes three doctors, an assistant superintendent, and superintendent Dr. Walter Murray English. Dr. James Russell, one of the acknowledged leading scholars and mental alienists of America, was the first superintendent, retiring after twenty-five years, when Dr. English came from London o take charge.

The government of Ontario carries all insurance upon public buildings belonging to the province, except in the case of the Central prison, which means that the province will have to foot the bill for the fire yesterday.

There are ten insanity asylums in Ontario, the oldest being that of Toronto, which was established in 1842.

Following is the complete list, showing date of establishment and insane population.

                             Year                               Insane Pop.

Hamilton             1877                                     1,231

London                1871                                       1,077

Toronto                1842                                         881

Mimico                1890                                            620

Kingston              1876                                            567

Brockville           1895                                         693

Cobourg              1902                                           155

Penetang              1904                                           368

Orillia                  1861                                           813

Woodstock 1905                                           182

          Hamilton asylum is equipped with a fire sprinkler system, chemical tanks for incipient fires, and maintains a fire brigade with a steam fire engine. The engineer of the lighting and heating plant has charge, the assistant engineer is first officer, the carpenter, the electrician, and the chief guards in each ward constitute the other officers. No patients are included in the fire brigade, nor are patients included in the regular fire drill at irregular intervals, which has been the established custom for some time at the asylum. None of the provincial asylums are built upon the fireproof plan of construction, most of them being erected before steel building became common. Kingston asylum, being o stone, is an exception to the red brick buildings which have become the type of Ontario’s lunatic asylums, as is the insane hospital at Penetang, once a reformatory.

          The interior of the local building is arranged, for the most part, in small rooms, the staff offices occupying the front of the ground floor. The top floor is reserved for bedrooms for the attendants.

          A few wards are maintained for senile cases, though as a general rule insane patients cannot be put together into large dormitories. The men burned yesterday were senile cases.

          The sexes in provincial asylums run about even, there being 603 men and 628 women at the Hamilton asylum at the time of the fire yesterday. The men’s wing is to the left of the corridor as one enters the main door. Being set close to the edge of the mountain, the elevation gives a more than ordinary draft of air, which no doubt added to the difficulty of fighting the fire.