Cape Breton Places & Foods

The Canadian Government Railway now had time to assess their material losses - 300 cars and 20 locomotives. The wreckage was promptly cleared away and on December 9 the first train since Thursday left North Street for Windsor. But more catastrophic was the fact that 55 employees of the C.P.R. lost their lives. A complete list of their names appeared in the paper:

Aikenhead, Nathaniel
Bauer, Middleton
Campbell, Martin
Chapman, W.
Coleman, V.J.
Crowdis, Jabez G.
Drake, W.L.
Dwyer, James
Elliott, Frederick
Elliott, John W.
Ellis, Robert
Fenerty, George
Ferguson, Geo. A.
Fleming, Patrick
Floyd, John
Fougere, Wm.
Gaston, John
Goomes, Victor
Guess, Frank M.
Guess, John
Guess, Wm.
Hamm, Harry
Hinch, William
Jackson, Lewis
Langwill, Joseph
Latter, Ralph
Lovett, Wm.

Malloy, John
Mctiernan, Bartholemew
Mowatt, Alex
Moore, Samuel W.
Murphy, Martin
Murphy, Patrick
Neary, P. Guy
Neary, Robert
O’Grady, Edward
Pickrem, Roy
Pickup, George Wm.
Quirk, George
Scallion, Thomas
Schurman, A.M.
Shea, Joseph C.
Shea, Maurice
Simmonds, Joseph A.
Squires, Mary
Stockall, Joseph Sr.
Stratton, William
Underwoods, Ben
Vaughan, Wm.
Wamback, R.
Watters, P. Jr.
Weir, Joseph
Wilson, Robert
Young, Florence

The Fact that after the snow, rain fell in torrents and then became slush which eventually turned to ice, made some of the streets almost impassable. Few had cleaned their sidewalks or gutters and in some places the water was two feet or more deep. The street cars were unable to operate. Trains coming in at the new terminal debarked their passengers near the foot of Inglis Street but then no transportation was available. Visitors were advised not to come to the city.

On Sunday all the stores remained open and all shelters and food and clothing depots continued to be busy. St. Paul’s Hall not only offered food daily, but also supplied sleeping accommodations - over two hundred were sheltered nightly. For the homeless, there were “comfort stations”. The board of control decided that persons who were occupying premises unfit for occupation were welcome there - eight or more shelters existed throughout the city.

Our four-footed friends were not neglected I am happy to say. An Animal Relief Committee with R.H. Murray as chairman was set up. All animals needing food and shelter and/or requiring a veterinarian were welcome.

The Green Lantern Clothing Relief Station offered clothing free: “Clergyman and members of all religious denomination, kindly look after your parishioners in devastated districts and send written orders of their requirements to the Green Lantern at once.

Pier Two, the reception hospital and clearing depot for our wounded and invalid soldiers, was badly damaged but arrangements were made for its immediate restoration. In the meantime, there were several clearing depots in Eastern Canada and hospital trains would be waiting for the arrival of any hospital ships and then they would be dispatched with all speed.

By a fortunate circumstance the last ship load of returned soldiers had been cleared through Pier Two hospital several days before the accident, otherwise there might have been heavy casualties in the depot, which was practically empty at the time of the explosion.

The hospitals were soon full. The Y.M.C.A., St. Peter’s Hall, the Knights of Columbus Hall, St. Mary’s College, and other public places were quickly made into improvised hospitals.

Mrs. Lillian Campbell of St. Peter’s, Richmond Co. was a student nurse on duty at the Victoria General Hospital. She couldn’t at that time recall hearing the Explosion but remembers that all the windows blew in; everything was covered with glass. There was utter confusion - patients and more patients, and no beds to put them in and the cold, cold wind kept blowing in through the open windows.

Devoted doctors and nurses worked hour on hour without rest or time for food, did all that human skill could devise to ease suffering and some life. No one will ever be able to measure the extent of this heroic, unselfish work. The consciousness of duty well done must in most instances be their only reward because there was no profession less willing to accept public recognition than the medical profession. The influx of physicians, surgeons and nurses from Canadian and American cities will give our own faithful men and women some slight opportunity for needed rest.

One of Halifax’s native sons returned to help. He was Dr. M. Darrell Harvey, son of the late John H. Harvey, Spark Street. He was one of the best known eye specialists in the U.S.A. and lived in Providence, R.I. He spent days in the city and went from house to house tending the wounded.

Private Henneberry, 63rd Halifax Rifles, had recently returned wounded from the front. He was digging away at the ruins of his house when he heard a feint moan. Other members of the 63rd including my father helped, and under a stove, protected by the protruding ash pan, they found little eighteen-month-old Olive Henneberry. The men kept on digging and soon found Mrs. Henneberry and her 5 children - all dead.

On December 10, four days after the Explosion, the Morning Chronicle was able to print this summary of the disaster.

The Disaster in Brief

• Over 2000 persons believed to be dead. 73 bodies recovered Sunday. Portion of the City from the waterfront West on Russell Street, North on Gottingen Street to the Narrows completely devastated - two square miles.
• Twenty Thousand persons destitute and homeless.
• One thousand bodies recovered to date.
• Hospitals and other large buildings filled to overflowing with wounded, many of the cases having since died.
• Window glass in practically every building in City smashed.
• Relief is being rushed from various parts of Canada and the United States. The first relief special to arrive reached Halifax on Saturday afternoon from Boston, bringing a corps of Doctors, Surgeons, and Red Cross Nurses, under the direction of Hon. A.C. Ratschesky, the personal representative of Governor McCall of Massachusetts.
• Search for bodies among the ruins of buildings continues and the death toll is hourly growing.
• Richmond Piers, Richmond Refinery, the Halifax Graving Dock, Hillis Foundry, Richmond School, Kaye Street Methodist Church, Trinity Church, St. Mark’s Church, St. Joseph’s Chapel, the Cotton Factory and other large buildings in the devastated section all amass of smoking ruins.
• Shipping destroyed, two steamers beached on the Dartmouth side and several other large freighters at anchor in the stream wrecked, whole crews being lost.
• Scarcity of food and building material. Some firms are giving away food, although there are reported to be a few that are overcharging.
• Relief Committee organized with R.T. MacIlreith, K.C., as chairman and headquarters at the City Club, Barrington Street, opposite the Gordon & Keith building.
• Free Food Depots have been established.
• All persons not having urgent business are requested to stay away from Halifax during the emergency period - Mayor’s Proclamation
• Investigation into the collision between the Mont Blanc and the Imo will be opened immediately by Captain Demers, Wreck Commissioner.
• Two more Relief Units arrive from the United States.
• Dominion Government votes One Million Dollars as a preliminary grant towards relief.
• Relief Committee requests Governor of Maine to forward, as per his generous offer 200,000 panes of glass, 10 tons of putty and 10,000 rolls of tar paper.
• All Citizens are urged to co-operate freely in every effort of the Relief Committee.

It was December 13 before the Gas was turned on in the “Mains.” Eight days was a long time to be without hot water and heat. Gradually things started to get back to normal. M.S. Brown & Co. Ltd. reopened their store. The Nova Scotia Tramways requested all their conductors and motor men to report for work as soon as possible in “order that the best service may be given to the public.” Industry was not idle long.

Horses were scarce; many had been killed and others were overworked. The Relief Transportation Committee asked all farmers and truck men in outlying towns who had heavy draft teams to spare for the next few weeks to please contact them.

A great many workmen were employed in the restoration work in the city. The different Relief Committees in the City agreed to pay the following rates per hour:

Carpenters 40¢
Glaziers 45¢
Plumbers 45¢
Stone Masons 50¢
Bricklayers 50¢
Laborers 30¢
Single Teams 40¢
Double Teams 65¢

Glass was very scarce and it was suggested that you “save your glass”. There were pictures that could go without a covering and every bit of glass was used.

The City of Halifax sent a letter to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts thanking them for their generous gifts and assistance. Their relief group left for home on the 14th of December.

This headlined an article carried by the Morning Chronicle:

Mr. Ratshesky says that the Hearts of the people of the Commonwealth go out to Halifax and he was proud to be of assistance in organizing the work of Relief State Fund is now $400,000 and rapidly growing.

King George cabled a message of sympathy, recalling the “happy times” he had in Halifax when he was an officer in the Navy. His words were: “Most deeply regret to hear of a serious explosion at Halifax resulting in great loss of life and property. Please convey to Halifax where I spent so many happy times, my true sympathy in this grievous calamity.”

The British Government voted to send five million dollars to Halifax. From all parts of Canada and U.S.A. contributions poured in, ranging from $5.00 to $5000.00.

From Dorothy P. Ryer, Shelburne, N.S., I received the following information concerning a former Nova Scotian, Mr. Harry Curry. He was President of the Canadian Club in New York City at that time and personally made a trip to Halifax with $4000.00 donated by the members for the Relief Fund. (Mrs. Ryer lived next door to Mr. Curry in Long Island, New York, at that time.)

The Morning Chronicle on December 13 carried a small note about another generous gesture by our American neighbors that was welcomed gladly:

Bird & Sons of East Walpole, Mass., with Canadian office in Hamilton, Ontario, have generously donated four thousand rolls of roofing which have left on steamer from Boston.

On December 16, the Boston Symphony Orchestra with Mare Melba, Dr. Karl Mack, the Conductor, and Fritz Kreisler, the violinist, contributed their talents and gave a concert for the benefit of the Halifax Relief Fund. Ten thousand dollars was raised - all of which went to the Fund.

On December 18th, the Morning Chronicle had this grim notice:

Burial Unclaimed Bodies

Public notice is hereby given that a number of unclaimed bodies in the Chebucto Mortuary on Wednesday evening December 19th at 1:00 whether identified or not will be buried Saturday December 22nd, unless sooner removed from the Mortuary by relative of friend.
by order Arthur S. Barnstead
Chairman Mortuary Committee

Before the dead were all buried the trial began; someone was to blame for this disaster, but whom? The trial went on for days and days. First one side was to blame and then the other. On December 15th, Pilot Francis MacKay stated that there was “something erratic going on aboard the Imo” just before the collision. But unfortunately, the Captain and the Pilot of the Imo were dead.

Finally, Justice Anglin of the Supreme Court of Canada found both ships negligent. A new Royal Commission investigated and re-organized the Halifax Pilotage Commission. Later, Pilot MacKay was reinstated but few people were happy over the court’s decision. The Imo changed her name and went to sea again. Four years later, on December 6th, she ran into a Falkland Island’s reef and sank. The suspension of a few officers and other men did little to ease the heartache of the thousands of people who were affected by gross carelessness on the part of a few unnamed persons.

One fact stands out. “The Imo had not been given permission to leave…” If she had obeyed orders, the Mont Blanc would be safely in before she left. And so it remains a mystery. Somewhere, there is an answer - of that I am certain.

The Survivors Speak

The Halifax Herald, December 12, 1917, printed a story about the disaster: its title was: “Thrilling story of the awful Disaster that the Huns brought to Halifax and to all Nova Scotia.” One paragraph stood out since that prophecy is about to be fulfilled 57 years later, I will repeat it.

Of what happened on the entrance edge of the devastated area, there are survivors who will tell thrilling tales of horror for years to come, of their experiences in the panic-stricken moments which followed the explosion. There are men who stood alongside comrades who were blown to atoms, while they themselves escaped unscathed. There are women who clutched their babies in their arms and fled shrieking into the streets from houses which tumbled in behind them; children were snatched from their beds, where they lay beneath great heaps of shattered and splintered glass fragments, scratched, but alive, and in thousands of wonderful instances without more serious damage than they might meet with by reason of a tumble or a fall. Every house which still stands bears the marks of the shattering concussion, and every household has its own story of providential escapes and miraculous life-preserving coincidence.

Now you will read some of these stories; the miracles and mysteries that are as real today as they were that eventful day December 6, 1917.

The following story was published in the Chronicle Herald on December 6, 1971. Mr. Donald A. Morrison, an active 83, lives in St. Peter’s, Nova Scotia. He is an Honorary Member of the Royal Canadian Legion.

“I remember when we used to go shooting rabbits on the Commons.” “Did you shoot any?” “No, I didn’t like them; but I used to watch the other fellows.”

This conversation took place between my father and me one day last August while we were driving past the Commons in Halifax. Today it was a modern playground with race tracks, ball fields and swimming pools - a Mecca for young and old. A little more than 50 years ago this was woodland.

This is my father’s story:

“I was Private Donald Angus Morrison 2699128, of the 63rd Halifax Rifles, stationed at MacNab’s Island in 1917, a short distance from Halifax where we spent most of our time, on guard duty of just taking in the sights.

“My favorite spot was King’s wharf. There was always something to seed own there and someone to talk to. I liked to go down and look out at the sea and think that maybe soon I would be on a boat out there.”

“I was thinking like that that morning standing on the wharf. It was December 6, 1917. Everyone’s attention was focused on the French munition ship, Mont Blanc. She was slowly coming to Bedford Basin to await a convoy. Suddenly, another vessel appeared - the Imo - flying Norwegian flag. She swept across in front of the Mont Blanc. She had a large sign on her side “Belgium Relief”…then, without warning, she rammed the Mont Blanc. Minutes later clouds of black smoke could be seen from Shore. We watched and wondered what had happened, never dreaming that the Mont Blanc carried T.N.T. and was a floating bomb.”

“I was talking to someone about the weather - although it had been a nice bright morning now it was getting dark - when suddenly it happened. I awoke to find myself on a floating object, part of the wharf. The man I was talking to was dead. I felt something running down my face. I put up my hand to wipe it away and discovered it was blood. I managed to get to my feet and take stock of my situation. Y make-shift raft was moving steadily away from the main structure. My only hope was to jump - it was 20 feet or more - and I was unable to swim. I thought of my wife and two small children. Would I ever see them again? By some miracle I was alive. I gathered all my strength and jumped. I landed safely - dazed, but somehow able to make my feet move. It didn’t matter that the world around me seemed to be in a shambles, “was alive!” In the week that followed I was to think of that moment many times. Ah, how lucky I was.

“I saw a Lieutenant coming down the street. I called to him and asked what had happened. He said, ‘I think the Germans have taken over. What Company are you with? Have you any water?’ I told him my Company and said I didn’t have any water. He said, ‘Let’s stay together and see what we can find out.’ We started up the street but it was slow going. The street was a mess - fallen wires, bricks, glass - just about everything you could imagine. And the people, that were the worst of all…women hanging out the windows and over wires, partly clothed. An eerie silence hung over the city soon to be broken by the cries of the wounded and dying.”

“I met some of my comrades and we tried to do what we could for the wounded. Everyone seemed to be in a daze, the uninjured as well as the injured. I suppose we were all suffering from shock but being soldiers we felt we had to try and do something.”

“I saw a woman coming down the street. Blood was streaming down her face; I took her arm and said I would take her to the hospital. She turned on me like a wild woman, but I was no match for her. Then I saw a soldier coming and I asked him to help me. I explained that I was trying to take her to the hospital but then he said, ‘That won’t be necessary.’ She had slumped over at our feet, dead. I saw a similar case at the ‘Y’ a few days later but this time it wasn’t such a shock. Perhaps I had seen so much misery in the past days that death didn’t bother me anymore. This time it was an elderly man. He was doing tricks, showing us how high he could kick on the wall, when once he kicked and came down on hi back. He never moved. He was dead.”

“Our commanding officer brought over the rest of our company from the island. Martial law proclaimed and we worked night and day.”

“Snow and wind - a regular blizzard - blew up the morning after the explosion. That really caused us a lot of trouble; the cold was severe and few had enough clothing. Those who did shared with others less fortunate. We put tents up on the Commons for the women and children but since they had no blankets or heat of any kind, many froze to death and were buried in a common grave.”

“Later, we gathered hundreds of bodies and put them in the basement of the Chebucto Road School. They were numbered but not identified. One night I was on duty there, cold, hungry and standing in water almost up to my knees. I couldn’t relax because we had been bothered by looters who came in droves looking for valuables. They would even cut the fingers off the corpses to get their rings. The one exit was locked and I had the key with orders not to let anyone in. Suddenly, the silence was broken. ‘Help, help! Please help me!’ I recognized a young voice. Again, came the cry, ‘Oh please help. Won’t anyone help m?’ This time I did go to the door and opened it. A young girl tumbled into the room, ‘Is my brother here? Please help me? I have looked everywhere and I can’t find him.’ I quickly relocked the door and brought my lantern over to get a better look at her. She was 16 or 17, her face was dirty and tear-stained and she was wet and cold. She told me she had been looking for her brother for two days. She knew he must be dead or would have come home; but she wanted to find his body. Then we began a gruesome task. Body after body we checked - some were badly mutilated - from time to time I stole a look at my companion but she seemed to be unaware of anything, working with a fervor that I had to admire. Cold, hunger - everything was doomed, we found him. Her face lit up and she gave out a cry, ‘I found you. I found you.’ She threw her arms around the lifeless body and hugged it to her. Then she cried as I have never seen anyone cry before or since. Finally she stopped crying and became quiet and then she thanked me and said she would come back soon for her brother. In no time she was back with two men and a stretcher. I never knew her name but to me she was a heroine. Under ordinary circumstances I would have been court-martialled but my C.O. only reprimanded me - I guess he realized I was only human.”

“One of the sights I shall never forget was that of a mother with two children. She was holding them so tightly that even death we couldn’t part them. We were ordered to bury them like that”

“One of my comrades was a Halifax boy. He was afraid to go home - afraid of what he might find. We found his mother unharmed; his sister was badly cut about the face by flying glass but she would recover. We had many cases like that. I was glad my family was many miles away.”

“One day I was walking up to a street with a companion and we stopped to look at a building that had crumbled to the ground. I thought I heard someone crying. We poked around in the ruins and eventually found an opening to the cellar. There were no steps and we had no light. I told my friend that if he would hold me by the feet I would reach as far as I could and see what I could find. At first he didn’t want to but he finally consented. I managed to reach the bottom of the cellar with my hands. We couldn’t hear a sound and I thought perhaps I had imagined that cry when suddenly I felt some cloth and then something warm. I moved a board and it moved and whimpered - it was a small child. We managed to get her up - it was a little girl, badly bruised and frightened but alive. She told us she had gone to the cellar to feed her pussy cat before she went to school.”

“On the 50th anniversary of the explosion someone showed me a picture of myself carrying out this child from that ruins. I was listed as ‘an unidentified soldier’.

“One of the dangers we had to face was fire. They raged night and day over the city. Water pipes were broken and we had no proper water supply. At one time an ammunition dump was threatened. We had orders to dump all the ammunition into the harbor. This was one order we were very happy we never had to carry out. The wind changed and we averted the fire and catastrophe. Without our ammunition we would have been at the mercy of our enemies.”

“I think our first food supplies came from Boston but later relief came from many places.”

“Ten days later I got time off and went home. My head wound had healed without medical help. Your mother washed the dried blood from my hair.” The he put his hand up to his head and said. “You see there, I still have that scar.”

“One of the temporary morgues was situated in the basement of the Chebucto Road School and at an early hour Thursday evening almost a steady stream of vehicles of all sorts was conveying the dead and depositing them in the basement in long rows.”

“The bodies were carried into the building and placed in long sheet covered rows. Practically none of these were recognizable in their blackened and, in many cases, burned condition.”

Mrs. Elizabeth Rafter lives in Windsor Junction, Nova Scotia. In 1917 she lived on Roome Street, Halifax, one of the areas hardest hit by the explosion. Here is her story as it was published on December 6, 1972 in the Mail Star:

“I have always had an excellent memory. I can remember most of my entire life since I was about three years old; the first day I started school and the last day I left. That was September, 1914, the first year of the First World War.”

“I left school to get work; we had a large family. My first job was with the Dominion Textile Company on Kent Street where I stayed for three years. In 1971 I was working for a woman who had three children, aged 6, 8, 10, and a new baby, three days old.”

“December 6 was a beautiful day and I decided to wash but first the water had to be heated on the stove. This gave me time to start my dinner. Today, I was going to make a stew and I was at the sink preparing the vegetables when it happened.”

“I never knew what happened to me but I woke up outside in the yard, unharmed as far as I could tell. I could hear someone screaming and I could see people running around covered with blood. There was a big fire burning near by. My first thoughts were of my family. The fire seemed to be in the direction of my home on Roome Street.”

“I started up Gottingen Street running and crying; I saw my poor father, down on all fours crawling like an animal, moaning and crying, but I didn’t stop. I had to get home even although I expected to find them all dead. My path was strewn with debris of all sorts, fallen wires and trees, and even dead bodies.”

“Finally, I arrived home. There, sprawled on the ground, was my mother, sisters and aunt. They seemed dazed and our house was flat to the ground. Everyone was there except my brother. I had seven sisters but only one brother. I asked my mother where Arthur was and she pointed to the ruins. I called his name and I thought I heard him answer, but I knew he couldn’t be alive because the house was in shambles. There wasn’t a house standing anywhere…”

“What could I do? I saw my aunt, who was expecting a baby, dragging her little six-year-old boy by the hand. Her eyes were both blown out of her head and she was telling her to hurry; he was dead but she didn’t know.”

“My father arrived home then. He was moaning and weeping. There was no home there; only emptiness and sorrow. After a long time some soldiers came with a team of horses and picked up all the wounded and took them to the Soldiers Hospital on North Gottingen Street. There we huddled together. The windows had been blown out and the soldiers were busy nailing blankets up. The floor and beds were covered with glass. Some of the water pipes had burst, and the only light came from a few lanterns.”

“The soldiers were wonderful and kind to us, making us as comfortable as possible.”

“We were like lost sheep, bewildered and not knowing what might happen next. A blizzard blew up that night and everything was covered with snow and ice. Next morning it looked like the prairies, you couldn’t tell one street from another.”

“I cried when I thought of my little brother and I was determined that now I would find him…I was 16 years old and the only member of my family not injured.”

“The next morning an orderly wrapped a shirt around my head and shoulders and I started out. I saw a team of horses hauling a sleigh loaded with carcasses of beef covered with canvas so I asked the driver for a drive and I went down North Gottingen Street with him. I jumped off there and started to walk.”

“Heartbroken and lonely, I had no idea what I was going to do. Finally, I came to a church and I saw people going in, so I went in with them. There were some wounded people in there but they had taken the worst cases to the hospital. We were given hot soup but I couldn’t eat; I kept thinking of the dead out there in the snow and my little brother. Would I ever find him? I just had to.”

“This was the second day of the explosion. Left the church about 8:00; that was the church on the corner of Grafton and Blowers Streets. It’s a mighty long walk from there to the north end of the City. My hands and feet were very cold, but I dared not stop. I kept on walking and when I arrived at my former home I stood for a long time, scared to death to move. It was so very lonely and there was a foul smell everywhere.”