1915-02-15tt

To put it as gently as possible, it might be said that Thomas Morris, vice-chairman of Hamilton’s Board of Control, was less than popular with his fellow controllers.

There were many reasons for the unpopularity of Thomas Morris not least of which was his determined advocacy of temperance, a stance anathema to his alcohol-loving members of the political community at Hamilton City Hall.

On February 15, 1915, Morris’ fellow controllers paid him back for a recent occasion when Morris had missed a board of control meeting:

“When Controller Morris started off on his recent brief vacation in Toronto – where he grappled desperately with the demon rum – he forgot that important civic business was underway here.

“For a vice-chairman it was a great oversight, and in his absence the board of control slipped several things over on him.”¹

¹ “Played Little Joke on Morris”

Hamilton Times.  February 15, 1915.

A Times reporter, fully aware of how Morris was viewed by his peers, noted that “many persons are unable to see how it would seriously hamper the advance of the Russian troops if the controller were away all the time.”

However, Morris did have a return ticket so he made his way back to Hamilton, “leaving the temperance cause flat on its back, (he) returned to work this morning like a giant refreshed.”¹

Cheerily entering Hamilton City Hall, Morris entered the Board of Control room, rather proud that he was the first to arrive.

One thing had changed in the room which pleased him greatly:

“During his absence, a telephone had been installed in the room, and while waiting for his colleagues to show up, the controller got busy on that. This is his own idea – the telephone – and its number will not be found in the book now or later. The idea is to have it ring out but not in.”¹

After making a few calls, Controller Morris sat at the meeting table patiently waiting for the other controllers to arrive:

“Time seemed to pass kind of slowly. The controller took a whirl at some formidable-looking documents, and then, with hands crossed behind him, he gazed in solemn contemplation out of the window. In that attitude, he looked just like Napoleon at St. Helena – just like him.

“After that the controller had another whirl at the formidable-looking documents, but time was commencing to drag.”¹

After more than twenty minutes, Controller Morris came to the conclusion that he had been”sold.” Indeed he had, the meeting, in his absence, had been cancelled.