1914-12-18a

 

        “Hamilton bay was frozen over yesterday for the first time this season, last night’s frost leaving a thin coating of about half an inch of ice.”

          Hamilton Spectator. December 18, 1914.

          It had been a relatively mild December in 1914, until the overnight hours of December 17 into December 18.

          Then the thermometer took a sudden drop, a change that was physically reflected on the surface of the bay.

          As always, the first formation of ice on the bay proved an irresistible attraction for the foolhardy.

Two incidents almost cost the lives of several Hamltonians :

“Early in the day, three men tried out the ice, and when a hundred yards or so from the shore one of them went in.

“One of his friends crawled out to him in an effort to pull him out on the ice, only to break through into the water himself. The third chap in the party then had to go to the rescue of both men, but could do little.

“The result was that both the chaps who were in the water had to reach shore by breaking the ice as they went along, ‘swimming ashore like porpoises‘ as a witness described it.”¹

¹ “Went Through the Thin Bay Ice :Youthful Skater Was Rescued With Difficulty : Three Men Also Received a Cold Ducking”

Hamilton Spectator.  December 18, 1914.

The second narrow escape of the day occurred about 5:30 after the sun had set:

“A party of boys tried out the ice, but when some two hundred feet from the shore, near Morris’ boat houses, a lad named Clark broke through into the water.

“His cries attracted the attention of Allan Weir and Alex. Morris, the latter a son of the well-known boat builder. Taking a rope with them, Weir and Morris ran to the youngster’s assistance.

“Throwing a rope to him, they tried to draw him up on the ice, but each time he made the attempt to crawl out of the water, the ice broke beneath him. Finally, Weir crawled along the ice, with the rope under him, and Morris on the other end of it, until he reached the edge of the hole where Clark was hanging on to the ice and one end of the rope.

“Pulling the boy by the arms, while Morris pulled on the rope, Weir was finally able to get the lad out of the water and rfush him to his home on Niagara street, where a good fire and dry clothes brought him around not much the worse for his ducking.

“The rescue was watched by several of the bay-front residents and they all unite in giving due praise to Weir and Morris, especially the former, who took great chances.”¹

The two incidents during December 18, 1914 thankfully did not result in any fatalities, and prompted the Spectator to address any of the newspaper’s readers anxious to venture out on the frozen harbor :

“The bay, at the present time, is a very unsafe proposition for even experienced hands. The authorities are of the opinion that the accidents should serve as a warning for the rest of those who are always eager to try out the ice.”¹