Cape Breton Places & Foods

Halifax, the ancient and picturesque capitol of Nova Scotia, is visited every summer by thousands of American tourists. They enjoy their escape from the torrid heat of August at home, to the cool sea air, the clear blue days, and the peaceful sleep-filled nights, and they find no little interest in the bowery public gardens, the mazes of the sea-grit park, the royal prospects from the star-shaped citadel, and the many monuments that record the history of this old garrison. As long ago as the eighteenth century, during the American Revolution, hundreds of American citizens used to visit the place, but they did not come willingly; they were singularly blind to its scenic charm and they took the earliest possible opportunity of returning to their native land. They were, in fact, prisoners of war gathered up by His Britannic Majesty’s cruisers and land forces. They were confined in jails and prison-ships and barracks, and they lived on prisoner’s fare. Their lot was hard and they gave the city of their captivity a bad name which it was slow to shake off. Sooner or later, they were sent home by cartel, in exchange for British prisoners gathered up by the Continentals; but the more impatient broke out by force or stratagem, and the sympathizing Nova Scotians helped them “up along to the westward” on their way to freedom. The rape of the Flying Fish is a case in point, and the story shows how peaceful men suffer in time of war.

On the evening of April 7, 1780, a little ten ton schooner with this poetic name lay at a wharf in Halifax, probably Fairbanks’ near the foot of Blower Street. With the help of a single other hand, William Greenwood brought her up from Barrington, a small fishing village at the butt-end of the province, to the capitol with a load of potatoes. He had sold his cargo, possibly to the commissariat department, for Halifax had a huge garrison to feed at the time; and he had received his money. He had also his clearance from the Customs and he was ready to sail. Between eight and nine o’clock he was in the tiny cabin with the other man, the two forming the entire crew; he may have been getting ready to turn in for the night, or he may have been reckoning up the profits of the trip, or considering how soon he could get back to Barrington and begin the spring fishing. He had on board nets and other gear, and he knew where he could procure a sufficiency of salt; he may have been thinking of the Banks. Or he may have been meditating on the varied experience of the past five years, since the Thirteen Colonies had declared their independence of the mother country.

The war had been a hard trial for poor men like William Greenwood. Only ten years before it broke out, he had left his native state of Massachusetts for Nova Scotia and had settled at Barrington for greater convenience to the rich fisheries of the North Atlantic. He was a British subject. He had simply transferred himself and his belongings from one British colony to another, and now, for no fault of his, by the ironic accident of mere residence, he found himself an enemy to his old friends and the kindred he had left behind. How could he bear arms against them? How could he help sympathizing with the “rebels,” against whom the governor and Assembly of Nova Scotia fulminated in menacing Acts and proclamations? It was a cruel situation for a poor man, especially after Congress had declared that the thirteen colonies would have no trade or commerce with the two erring sisters to the north, which refused to join the union. The fishermen of Barrington and Yarmouth soon felt the pinch of want. Fishing was their sole source of livelihood; to move back to Massachusetts meant ruin; to remain in Nova Scotia exposed them to the American privateers and shut them out from their natural market.

Still, men are not as harsh as their laws; even in the worst year of the war, commerce between Nova Scotia and Massachusetts did not wholly cease. In October, 1776, the Barrington men loaded the schooner Hope with fish and liver oil and sent her to Salem with a piteous request that they might be allowed to barter the cargo for provisions, to keep them through the long winter approaching. It is impossible, they said, to get provisions elsewhere. The homely petition breaks into an irrepressible cry of distress-God only knows what will become of us.” To resist such an appeal was not easy. The House of Representatives allowed the agent of the Hope, Heman Kinney, to dispose of his cargo, and to purchase two hundred and fifty bushels of corn, thirty barrels of pork, two hogsheads of molasses, two hogsheads of rum [a necessity of life], and two hundred pounds of coffee. With these rations, rather plentiful and luxurious compared to what they purchased in later years, the community of Barrington managed somehow or other to get through the long winter.

Exactly a year later, Greenwood had been able to render an important service to the new republic by returning to it no fewer than twenty-five of its fighting men. Captain Littlefield Libby had the misfortune to lose his privateer. She was driven on shore by one of H.B.M.’s cutters. Her crew set her on fire and took to the woods. After a toilsome journey of seventeen leagues through the primeval forest, they reached Barrington and bought a boat with what money they had, eked out with their shoe buckles and thirty small-arms. But ill luck still fowled them. They were wrecked and lost their dear bought boat… Once more they were forced back on the limited hospitality of the fishing hamlet at the east passage of Cape Sable Island. In this crisis, Greenwood undertook to ferry them over to his forty-five ton schooner, the Sally, which may have been named after his wife. In addition to Libby’s crew, he brought one of Captain Fullerby’s men and three others who had escaped from Halifax and made their way to the end of the province nearest their own home. The plan of the previous year was repeated. On Captain Libby’s advice, the Sally was loaded with a few quintals of fish, the result of the labor of many families, some bushels of salt, and some fish oil to be exchanged for corn or wheaten flour, for the indispensable daily bread. By October 27, 1777, the Sally with her cargo and her returning privateers was safe at Salem, and four days later, Greenwood’s petition for leave to buy food was granted.

For the return trip, Greenwood had shipped a new hand, one John Caldwell, a young fisherman, whose artless tale illustrates the sufferings of the innocent noncombatants in time of war. He lived in Nova Scotia, not far from Barrington, where the visionary Colonel Alexander McNutt projected his marvelous city of New Jerusalem. Caldwell was the only support of his widowed mother and his sisters. The fishery had been ruined by the depredations of the merciless small privateers, so he made a voyage in a merchantman from Nova Scotia to the West Indies. On his return, he avers that he was “strongly important” to go on another voyage to Quebec; so he must have been a likely lad. On his way thither, his vessel was snapped up by the privateer Dolphin out of Salem, and he himself was mage prisoner of war. Now he petitioned for release, and the Council of Massachusetts were not without bowels. They considered his motives, his youth, and his peculiar circumstances, as he requested, and they gave him leave to return in the Sally to his own place. The next October saw Greenwood again in Boston with his annual cargo of escaping prisoners on board the Sally, and his annual petition for leave to buy food. His passenger list included Amos Green of Salem, Ichabod Mattocks of Mount Desert, and Mr. John Long, late quartermaster of the Continental ship Hancock. She had been captured by that very active officer Sir George Collier of the Rainbow in a sea-duel, like that between the Chesapeake and the Shannon, and taken to Halifax. The local jail must have been a curious place. The jailor was infirm and delegated his duties to his wife. The supply of shackles was insufficient and the regulations for visiting the prisoners at night were not enforced. Apparently, nobody with any contrivance remained long in durance. Americans were always escaping and always being helped up along by the people of Nova Scotia.

So far Greenwood, the “hearty friend of America,” as Captain Libby calls him, had managed to escape being ground between the upper and nether millstones of the hostile forces, but soon he was to suffer not from “the enemy,” but from the Americans he consistently befriended.

Not far from where I live in Halifax, is located Gorsebrook Golf Course, and to the south of what is now the Club house, a garden is surrounded by a stone wall. At the south east corner, one of the stones has subscribed on it-”This wall was built in 1915″-This house and grounds are part of the old Collins estate, and the date on the stone and the history of the place has caused my thoughts to wander back for something to interest you of those stirring times, and so I remind you of the most remarkable privateer story that Nova Scotia has ever given us.

This particular story has nothing to do with the Collins family, but as they were interested in shipping in those days, no doubt the story I am to tell you, was well known to those who frequented this old garden at Gorsebrook.

In the olden days, Navy Departments used to encourage private citizens to outfit ships in time of war. These ships were not subject to naval discipline, they were not part of the navy, nor did they ever, when it could be avoided, take part in any naval engagement. They were designed solely to prey upon merchant ships, to destroy the commerce of that nation with whom their country was at war. As a reward for their actions, they were allowed to keep and sell as prizes, the ships and cargoes which they captured, and for authority, so that they would not be regarded simply as pirates, they carried documents known as letters of marque, granted them by their government.

These ships were very fast, and often carried quite heavy armament. Their smallness and their speed enabled them to escape from hostile warships, and their arms made them much more than a match for any luckless merchantman whom they might meet. If it so happened, however, that a hostile warship ever did get a good chance at a privateer, there was small mercy shown, for regular men of the navy looked upon privateers as nothing more or less as pirates. Indeed, two of the most famous pirates ever known, Captain John Kidd, and Captain Henry Morgan, began their careers as privateers.

During the war of 1812, The United States of America, being a new country, had almost no navy whatever. Therefore the government, more than a little dismayed at the one hundred and six ships of the line that the English had gathered at Halifax, put forth an especial plea for privateers, calling attention to the fact that here was a chance both to serve the new republic and to grow rich off prize money. Within a very short time, there were twenty-four heavily armed, very fast privateers sailing out of New York and making themselves no end of a nuisance to British shipping. Among these was a vessel known as the Teazer, which was particularly active. In a few short weeks, she had captured two ships, six brigs and six schooners. It is no wonder then, that as much effort was directed toward capturing the Emden during the early days of the last war, or the Bismarck in this war.

But to get back to my story last, in December, 1812, she was run down. The San Domingo, a huge warship, cornered the little privateer, captured her and burned her.

Her officers were allowed to go home on parole: that is, they were freed upon their promising that they would not again during the war bear arms against Great Britain. Officers were regard as men of honor, men who would keep their word. One of these officers was Lieutenant Frederick Johnson, of whom we shall hear more later.

It was not long before the Teazer was replaced. Early in May, 1831, the Young Teazer, named after the vessel that and been lost, took to the high seas with the intention of giving the British quite as much trouble as had the old Teazer, and with no intention whatever of being captured and burned.

But best-laid plans and the very best of intentions often go astray. The Young Teaser’s first mistake was made when, early in June, she boarded a vessel off La Have, and allowed the vessel and crew to proceed. Of course, the vessel was in ballast, and was hardly worth taking, but her crew arrived at Halifax with full details about the new privateer, her tonnage, the number of guns she carried, and the size of her crew. A very few days later, an incident happened which shows the daring of these privateers. The Young Teazer captured two vessels right off Sambro Light, at the very entrance to Halifax Harbour, and escaped a possible capture by running into the harbor and raising British colors. This was certainly bravado, but it was discovered after the Young Teazer had gone, and a number of British warships sailed wrathfully out into the ocean in search of the Young Teazer.

A Liverpool privateer, called the Sir John Sherbrooke, sighted her, and gave chase: but the Young Teazer was too fast, and with the coming of a thick fog, the Young Teazer got away. Then two warships, the Caster and the Manly, caught sight of her, but the light Teazer was far too fast for the heavy lumbering warships.

A few days later, the frigate Orpheus met with Young Teazer, and being nearly as fast as the privateer, gave her a hot chase to Lunenburg Harbour. There was a light fitful breeze blowing, and the master of the Young Teazer, realizing that he was no match whatever for a heavily armed frigate, crowded on every inch of canvas, and manned the huge oars, or sweeps, with what the Young Teazer was equipped. Even with this help, however, the Young Teazer was unable to get away from this British frigate, who crowded close at her heels.

The Young Teazer darted amongst the maze of islands that dot Lunenburg Harbour, hoping that she would get into shallow water, where her light draught would enable her to sail where the deeper frigate would ground. But the Orpheus was not to be shaken so easily. Into the harbor she raced; close enough to give the master and crew of the Young Teazer a great deal of worry.

Then luck favored the Young Teazer. She doubled over past Sculpin Rock into Spindler’s Cove, and then she squared away and ran between Cross Island and East Point into Mahone Bay, toward Tancook. In the meantime, the Orpheus lost the breeze, and could follow no farther.

But, just as the officers and crew of the Young Teazer were beginning to breathe more easily, and to think that perhaps they had escaped once more, a huge three-decked British warship hove into sight. She proved to be La Hogue, a ship that carried seventy-four guns, a giant of the sea that would blow the Young Teazer out of the water with just one blast. Still, however, there was a chance for the Young Teazer. La Hogue was a great sea-castle, and needed a real breeze to move her- and the wind that the Teazer was light and fitful, so much so that her sweeps were manned constantly. She kept on toward Mahone Bay.

Now the luck that had favored the Young Teazer deserted her entirely. La Hogue caught a breeze that was evidently missing the privateer, and to the dismay of the American, swept around her to windward. But this was not the worst. Scarcely had the Young Teazer realized the peril that this placed her in before the towering sails of the Orpheus appeared.

The breeze that had favored La Hogue, had also enabled the frigate to get windward of the Young Teaser.

Then the wind died, and the Young Teazer, trapped in the landlocked waters of Mahone Bay, lay motionless, with the huge British ship a scant three miles away, also becalmed, but waiting there sinisterly for the Young Teazer to make a move.

One chance remained. With the warship becalmed, the Young Teazer might have worked her way to safety with her sweeps, and, indeed, much a move was begun. But La Hogue was not to be cheated out of her prey. Across the waters to the Teazer came the rattle of La Hogue’s anchor chains, and the sound of putting over boats. In the twilight, the Teazer’s crew saw five huge boats, each thronged with men, and each with a heavy gun in the bow, coming swiftly toward them. The sweeps had to be abandoned, for the boats could move much faster than could the Young Teazer, and besides, there was evidently a fight in the offing, and every man would be needed.

To the accompaniment of the distant, yet ever nearer, splash of oars, a council was hastily called on the Young Teazer. There were two courses open; they could surrender, or they could put up the best possible fight against tremendous odds. There were only thirty-six of the Young Teazer’s original crew of sixty-five on board; the rest had been sent on prizes. Each of La Hogue’s boats carried more men than the whole crew of the Young Teazer; there were more British tars on La Hogue and in reserve, there was the Orpheus, sinisterly awaiting the last breath of wind.

Even so, a gallant fight could have been made. The Teazer mounted five guns, which could have wrought great damage to the five shapes approaching through the summer twilight.

But, while the captain hesitated, the council was suddenly ended by Lieutenant Johnson, the paroled officer from the old Teazer, who had broken his oath, and was again bearing arms against Britain.

Somebody screamed that Johnson had run into the cabin with a live brand from the galley fire. The next moment, the Young Teazer was blown into fragments, by a terrible explosion, a great spout of flame shot skyward, and the career of the Young Teazer was over. Johnson, who did not care to swing at La Hogue’s yardarm as a renegade, had fired the Young Teazer’s magazine.

La Hogue’s boats went hastily back to their ship, and waited until morning. Then, when the British saw the hulk of the Young Teazer still afloat, they sent out boats to pick up any who might have survived the dreadful explosion. A few men, horribly wounded, were patched up and taken ashore to Lunenburg. One or two others who had been flung uninjured into the water, made their way ashore, and surrendered to Lunenburg authorities. In all, twenty-eight of the thirty-six on board the Young Teazer perished from Johnson’s rash act.

The wreck of the Young Teazer was towed ashore, and Lunenburg people gave Christian burial to the horribly mutilated remains that they could find. Some idea of the ghastly scene that the Young Teazer presented may be gathered from the fact that at least one man fainted at the sight of the hulk. There still remain some relics of the Young Teazer. One of the lanterns is in possession of a citizen of Lunenburg County, and a piece of the keel made into a cross, is in the Anglican Church at Chester.

But the greatest memory of the Young Teaser is to be found in the legends about Tancook, and many stories have been told about happenings in June, 1813, when the Young Teazer came to her end.

When you take a walk around Gorsebrook, have a look at the old stone on the wall, and you will probably say to yourself, I’ll bet the occupants of this house in those days, heard some exiting stories of the sea.

It is surprising the number of newcomers to Halifax who ask about that circular building, with the round dome for a roof, which they see a few miles before arriving in the city, if they come by the main highway or by train. It is not so surprising on the part of those whose advent to Halifax is by means of a motor road, but the more fleeting view that arrivals by train experience, does not give them equal opportunity to have the structure impress itself on their minds. Yet, many of them note it, and a number express curiosity about its unique design.

O course, it would be difficult to find a Haligonian who does not know of Prince’s Lodge, and who does not boast at least a smattering of its history. But even a number of regular residents do not know much about the building perched high on the hill overlooking Bedford Basin on one side, and with the cutting of the C.N.R. track providing a minor precipice on the other.

It would seem rather fitting for those of us who gather each Sunday morning for our visit together for Tales Told Under the Old Town Clock to take a jaunt out to Prince’s Lodge today. The same royal person who was instrumental in the erection of the historic clock on the slope of Citadel Hill likewise caused the erection of this other building. But, where the town clock stands in isolation, the other one was once part of an extensive group of buildings which formed the home of the Duke of Kent during his sojourn at this post.

True, it was separated by a little distance from the main buildings of the estate, but was a part of it. The rotunda provided the place from which the band on frequent occasions in those colorful days discoursed sweet music for the entertainment of Edward and his guests. Legend has it that the Duke utilized the Maroons, colored men who were shipped here from Jamaica, in his operations of building, and it is said that the rotunda was used as a kind of temple in which these Maroons practiced their rites.

It was after Edward’s arrival here from the West Indies in May of 1794, that this beautiful section of the Basin’s shore took on its very important role in local history. While guest of Governor Wentworth, Edward, who had been named head of the British troops in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, was taken to the Governor’s summer home these few miles from Halifax, which Wentworth had given the name of “Friar Lawrence’s Cell.”

Dr. Clara Dennis, in her much read book, Down in Nova Scotia, says “The Governor could not know that it was destined to be the setting for a real Romeo and Juliet whose romance would also end in tragedy, although unlike the tragedy of the imaginary Romeo and Juliet from whose story the Governor had taken the Friar Lawrence’s Cell as the name for his modest summer home.”

Edward found this spot, to use his own words, “better than any spot outside England,” and the obliging Governor gave over his place to his royal guest. From then on, it gained its new name of Prince’s Lodge.

Services of the leading landscape artist of the day in England were sought by the enthusiastic builder, and the natural beauty of the surroundings soon took on new glory as the development proceeded.

It is recalled that myriad pathways were directed through the woods, and each path was so designed that it formed a letter of the alphabet. Grottos abounded, Chinese pagodas were speedily erected where commanding views of the Basin could be secured.

It was fitting that such a place, and with such a history to be written in the brief period of its glory, should have a special pathway which boasted the designation of “Lover’s Lane”. What happy hours for those ill-fated lovers of history, Edward and the beautiful Julie St. Laurent who won his affections, the young widow who was an aristocrat in her own country, and who was Edward’s constant companion until expediency of the ways of state made it necessary for him to choose a royal bride. It was with Madame St. Laurent as the charming and beautiful and charming hostess that the then leaders of Halifax social world wended their way to the retreat on the Basin’s shores for the gay festivities. Many a titled visitor from other climes had his good option of Halifax greatly increased by the happy hours spent as an honored guest at the Lodge.

Let us say that we have traveled out the Bedford Road, past Mount St. Vincent, through Rockingham, beyond Birch Cove, and but a little beyond we see the rotunda, with the tracks between it and our highway. It was up the pathway from opposite the music room that we travel to reach the site of the main parts of the Lodge.

Arriving at the site, which has lost every link to the past but the rotunda, we will have to close our eyes and try to picture what it must have looked like at the end of the eighteenth century.

Records tell us that the main residence was a two-storey house of Italian style with wings at each end and the grand hall and reception room in the center. To the rear was a church-like structure said to house the offices and kitchen, for no cooking was actually done in the main building, a subterranean passage leading to that very necessary department. What rich repasts must have been carried along its artificially-lighted course?

Near enough to the house to give ready access was the library, stocked with books that were brought with great difficulty, for it is said that seven times through piracy or shipwreck Edward lost his household goods and books, including thousands of volumes at Sable Island.

It was a self sufficient little community that dwelt amid all this beauty, for it had its stables, forge, and a variety of other out-buildings to meet its requirements. There was even a barracks there for the guards over such an important person, and this structure was said to have been just a small space north of the still standing rotunda.

But even if able to get along quite well alone, it still was considered necessary to have a link with the city. It was not as simple a matter as today, with the telephone-so on a high elevation was the observatory and signal station. From it, signals were relayed through Fort Needham, at the north end of Halifax, on to Fort George on the summit of Citadel Hill.

Expense was not spared by Edward in meeting his own whims or those of his beauteous companion and it is said that when His Royal Highness finally quit this section, to meet the call of state elsewhere, he left the trifling amount of $800,000.00 in debts in Nova Scotia.

Dr. Clara Dennis tells us that behind all these scenes of pomp and gaiety dwelt a lonely hermit in his cell. He was furnished with rich food from the Lodge, but rejected all but the plainest of scraps, never leaving his cell but by nights. His grave is said to be somewhere about, at a place selected by Madame St. Laurent, and with keeping with his habits during life, he was laid to rest in the darkness of night. We could spend many moments here merely pondering what lay behind his selection of such a strange way of life.

There is another hidden grave hereabouts, according to stories that have been handed down. It is that of the Prince’s favorite charger. He would have no horse but the best, and it is said that this favorite stumbled but once, but even that was sufficient for a royal decree that he be shot.

There is still a little lake to be seen, if we travel up over the hill we find a small artificial lake. Once this was heart-shaped, made for Julie by her lover, but its shores are now unkempt. Where once stood well kept buildings. Are now but rough board structures used for picnic purpose.

For years the property was used for the center of organized outings from the city. Many of us in Halifax recall with thrilling memories the travels up the Basin in some small steamboat, to be disgorged at a wharf by the rotunda, and then to proceed on to the open parts above, where the fun of the picnic was experienced. Then at day’s end, as the shades of night started to make the eastern shore indistinct, we traveled down the slope again on tired and begrimed legs for the climaxing thrill, the boat trip back to the city.

What a contrast to those days of royal parties, with bowling on the green.-Prince’s Lodge, the name given to the section, is today counted as a residential suburb of Halifax. But a few short years ago it was the place where the more fortunate people of the city had summer homes, to be boarded up and deserted with the arrival of the colder months. Today it has a variety of attractive year-round residences, and people who make their homes there travel to and from the city in a matter of a comparatively few minutes, where once it was a journey of hours by horse-drawn vehicles, or by water up the harbor, through the narrows and to the western shore of the Basin.

There are still to be found traces of the paths leading back of the summer homes, the paths once trod by Edward and Julie, in the days before that fateful 1818, when it became advisable that Edward’s marriage to the Princess of Leningen take place. Madame St. Laurent first learned of this plan from a newspaper, and heartbroken she to a convent, death ending her career which knew both so much happiness and sadness in 1832. This romance, which is said to have included a marriage of Edward and Julie at Gibraltar, but which was not recognized by his royal father, George the Third, was doomed to unkind fate at the last.

But as a result of Edward’s union with the Princess, the British Empire was given its great Queen Victoria.

Surely a visit such as this, as we wind our way back to the shadow of the Town Clock, can give us food for much thought in the coming week, and will give added interest to the occasion when we next pass the rotunda. If you have time, and wish to hold a session with the past, so to speak, then by all means visit this historic place. See the lake, which still to a measure holds its heart-shape. Don’t delay for years, or it will be too late, for the area has been sub-divided for building lots. Up to recent years traces of the old foundation could be seen, but many of the rocks were more recently trucked away. Even the Gray house that succeeded the Prince’s Lodge, on the name site, is now a thing of the past.

Today the rotunda is owned by Mrs. Mary Karas, Morris Street, who occupies it as a summer home, and hopes to follow that practice for years to come, and finds the unusual design of the rooms of her Bedford shore home very intriguing.

At times efforts have been spoken of to gain possession of the place as a historic shrine, but so far no successful project has been launched.

And so we leave Prince’s Lodge, to return to town.

Good day, my friends. One day I had occasion to call on the family physician, and when I arrived at his office, the waiting room had some ten or twelve people there. Having nothing else to do but settle down and wait until my turn came, I naturally did what everyone else does; looked over the old magazines, and then at the other people waiting to see the doctor, wondering what was the matter with this one, or what was the matter with that one, and getting quite a bit of amusement out of the shy look of each new arrival, as everyone tried to keep quite still, and look unembarrassed.

There was one old gentleman who particularly took my eye; light spring coat, spats, and a light coloured hat . he was joined by another old gentleman, a small man with a round cheery face, who shook hands, who shook hands, and the first thing I knew they were talking about Halifax. When the cheery one said, “I can remember Halifax fifty years ago, just as well as I can remember coming here today,” I sat up and took notice. Then the thought struck me that if the many changes taking place in Halifax as compared to the old days were such a topic of interest in that room, and made everybody feel so interested and at home; that there must be thousands more in Halifax who would like to have memories of by-gone days revived, and thousands of new-comers who would like to know more about the city in which they are living; and so that is the purpose of these broadcast talks.

Nearly everyone who speaks to through the medium of the microphone these days ha a message of importance about the war, but I believe that there is still room for a friendly chat about this and that, to give our minds a rest from the strenuous times about us.

Among the places the old gentlemen talked about was the Old Garrison Clock on Citadel hill, and how they used to sit on the hill in the shadow of the Clock and talk things over, in the summer evenings or Sunday afternoons. It struck me , as a mighty good idea.
If more of us would slow up once in a while, and go find an old friend and relax for an hour or so by the old Town Clock, we would be better able to carry on afterwards.

So I have decided to make this old Town Clock the starting point in these weekly chats with you, which we will call Tales Told Under the Old Town Clock.

We will wander far from the old Clock, but every time we pass it, it will remind us to go hunting up other subjects of interest to chat about.

Only this week, I received from Mr. Barnes of Rolf Clark Stone, a beautiful calendar, which is now hanging up in my office. This calendar has a lovely illustration with the Old Town Clock with the following description under it;

“The Halifax Town Clock took up its position two years and a day before the battle of Trafalgar. Plans were prepared on instructions from H.R.H. the Duke of Kent, while commanding his Majesty’s Forces in Nova Scotia- the same Duke of Kent who was later to become the father of Queen Victoria. They were finally approved in 1801. The clock itself arrived from England on June 10, 1803, in H.M.S. Dart and was placed in position on October 20th of that year.

“Those were trying days for England. The Garrison Clock, as it was called then, ticked off the tragic hours of the Napoleonic War and the War of 1812. While still strange to its new surroundings, it recorded the time spent by Bonaparte by his fruitless preparations to invade England. It continued to serve the good people of Halifax during the dark days prior to Waterloo, and the victorious days which followed. It told the time for all to see, during the depressing campaign in the Crimea. It said “Good-bye” and “Welcome home” to those Canadians who fought in South Africa. It struck the departure hours for countless thousands, sailing from Halifax to do their part in the World War of 1914-1918, and struck as confidently during the retreat from Mons, as during the last glorious hundred days.

“And now mellowed by the years, it looks on once more while the Empire fights its greatest fight=mildly amused, perhaps, by the same doubts and fears so often expressed during the other wars it has watched. When the time comes to record the end of this war, the job will be done and the faithful old clock, its roots in the past, its face to the future, will go on as before, keeping a kindly eye cocked towards the little island whence it came.”

What more fitting place for us to start our little jaunt in Halifax today than by a visit to the Old Town Clock itself?

It is a familiar sight to all of us, some more than others. For a number of JHaligonians its North face is a guide as to whether they are on time for work, as they walk briskly over the diagonal path across the Citadel Hill, from North Park Street to Brunswick Street, or take a short cut from Gottingen Street by Glacis Barracks, to reach the downtown section of the city.
Few Haligonians have ever been inside the Garrison Clock structure, which boasts such an unusual shape. This statement can be taken as fact, from a man who has lived there for 33 years. That man is ex-Sergeant W. J. White, formerly of the Halifax Police department. It is said that familiarity breeds contempt and while it is not contempt in this case, few of us pause to wonder about the mechanism that has ‘ticked” faithfully on for nearly a century and a half, giving the time to Halifax people. According to Sergeant White a number of tourist visitors call to the Old Town clock and ask to see the interior of the structure, but few regular residents of the town ask to see the faithful time piece at close quarters.

However, let us pay our visit to the tow clock- Let’s pause to examine the conspicuous cornerstone in the wall, at the base of the hill-removed by a few feet from busy Brunswick Street itself/ The stone seems to have been selected hardly with an idea to make it stand out with any prominence. Brown in colour and with no relieving hues for the letters, it is necessary to lean forward to read the inscription.

This tells us of the erection of the clock in the days of the Duke of Kent, when that Gentleman whose name loomed rather large in the city’s earlier days, made this city his home, while on duty on this side of the Atlantic, and after whom the street un the rear of Broadcasting House was named-Kent Street.

The inscription on the stone tells us that the town Clock was erected in 1803 and further, that this particular stone was laid by H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, who today you know as the Duke of Windsor. The ceremony took place in 1919 on his visit to the city, and was supposed to be the inauguration of the new foundation for the historic clock. True, a short retaining wall was erected, but today the immediate vicinity of the walls presents a sorry sight. There is litter about and plenty of mud, caused by the water from the springs that abound on the Eastern slope of the Citadel Hill. Really it seems time that Halifax paid a little more attention to keeping the immediate vicinity of the clock in more presentable shape.
But let us get along with our tour of inspection. A long line of wooden steps leads us to the clock structure. Count them as you mount and excluding the upper platform, there are 52 steps. Rather fitting, don’t you think, for the introduction for a place devoted to the telling of time…a step for each week of the year. It is rather a disappointment that the other set of steps, leading to the doorway lack a couple of an even dozen. If that was remedied, we would have one for each month, and then things would be complete in their significance.
Knock at the door and you are greeted by a man who stand straight, and has a smile that hardly bespeaks of the 78 years that have passed since he was born in the city of Dublin. But if you know anything of the past history of W.J. White this well preserved physique is hardly surprising…you see, he is, by many of the veterans, accepted as the “Daddy” of Boxing in this city, and he was by no means a ring adversary who could be overlooked in the days of his prime. A man that had the privilege of boxing with Jim Corbett, and Philadelphia Jack O’Brian, in the days when their names meant much in the boxing world, certainly had to be good, and Sergeant White, in exhibition with them, proved his caliber well/ these incidents that loom large in his memory occurred when the noted pugilists visited here.

Evidence in his pride in his associations with the ring is given by a large lithographed sheet, showing as it’s details, the world’s champions in the manly art of self-defense, from the days of Pipes right through to Dempsey.

Why is it given a place of honour, in its frame and standing on an easel?- The answer is interesting. It was a gift to Sergeant White from the one time champion himself, Jim Corbett.
But it’s not the most honoured article in the room. For on the wall hangs pictures of a famous Canadian airman, Joe White, whose feats in the First World War won him high recognition. Among the medals under the frame, with the pictures of the tall, dashing flier, are the distinguished flying Cross, and the Croix de Guerre. No wonder the veteran Police Officer is proud of these medals, won by his son, who, unfortunately, later in his flying career, was to meet disaster while in service at Camp Borden.

Sergeant White came to Canada with the Royal Artillery in 1886, and by the way, the speaker’s father was in the same Garrison Artillery Unit, and so I have a particular regard for him, as I have for another old comrade of his, named tom Doherty. These are the only two left of that famous North Irish Battery, that I know of now,- After a brief period of service in Bermuda, Sergeant White came to Halifax, and has made his home here ever since. It was in 1887 he joined the Halifax Police Department retiring about 18 years ago with the rank of Sergeant. He took up residence, with his family, in the Old Town Clock 38 years ago, and as a means of curbing the vandalism of youths, who were causing destruction to the historic edifice.

Well-up we go, more and more steep stairways, with loose rope handrails, past on landing, then to the one directly behind the four faces of the clock. There, housed in a wooden and glass door box,-are the works.-The things that make the hands go around. In four directions the metal tubes and bars extend, through the faces of the clock, and to these the hands are attached.

A metal plate bears the name of the maker “Vuilliamy,=London-No. 371”, but no date.

Every Saturday Mr. White winds the clock…that is, he turns the spindle to which is attached the thin steel cable, to which a heavy weight is suspended, and which drops through a well that goes down through the whole tower, right through the living quarters, and into a deep pit in the cellar. The weight once up=the clock is ready to keep on ticking for another week, or even a day or so more. A pendulum with a massive circular weight, also extends downward for several feet, keeping the works moving at their regular, measured pace.

Many can recall the bells that tolled the time from the tower. They were three in number, but these, also powered by separate cables, were disconnected years ago. Now only one bell remains in the tower, the others having been removed- and are stored at the City Field workshops, where they were shown to me the other day by another well known old servant of the City, my old friend and comrade of militia days-Sergeant ‘Bun” Thomas.

“The clock keeps pretty accurate time, although I have to watch it with changes in the weather.”-says caretaker White. “I may have to adjust the pendulum, or even move the hands a bit, but I try to keep it right.” He added that it was in some need of attention to its works.

An interesting feature of the old clock, and showing somewhat the trend of population in the earlier days, is the fact that the face on the West side, where the Citadel towers above, and that facing South to Sackville Street, are smaller than the others. It was not necessary for them to be designed to be seen from such distances as the faces on the East and North sides.

Up in the tower, below the level housing the clock mechanism Mr. white has his workbench, where he putters at some hobbies, and about are interesting pictures of earlier police force days. Occupying a place of prominence, and further proving the love W. J. White held for the activities of the ring, is a picture of John L. Sullivan famed world’s champion.

Thanks to Sergeant White, we have had a very interesting visit to a historic spot, made more interesting by his evident pride in the timepiece that has served the city so faithfully.
Let’s hope, that Halifax will not to long fail to realize the honours due to such a vulnerable structure, and that everything possible will be done to preserve this clock linked with the city’s storied past. Some paint would not be amiss today, and surely the surroundings are worthy of every attention. It is also respectively suggested to the civic fathers, that the two bells now in storage in City Field workshops could be presented to the Hon. Angus L. Macdonald to put aboard the corvette, H.M.C.S. Halifax, to be used as the ship’s bell, as apparently they never intend to place them back in service in the Old Town Clock.

Of course, in these days when watches are not so scarce as personal possessions, and clocks for the home can be secured at low prices, and correct time is given by Radio. The need may not be so extensive for the friendly guidance of the old clock. But it is an old friend, and as such, it deserves our affectionate care. I hope many of my listeners will make it a point to visit the Garrison Clock soon.

Just to refresh your memory before we leave, remember the Old Town Clock has ticked off the hours since October 20th,1803, and mellowed by the years, with its roots well planted in the past, and its face to the future, it keeps a friendly watch of the hours in this old city, which has been referred to “Warden of the honour of the North”.

Another clock much younger, but very prominent as far as I am concerned, the Studio Clock, has been keeping pace with the Old Town Clock while I have been chatting with you, and it tells me, it’s time to say-Cheerio and all the best!

Tales Told Under the Old Town Clock is presented in the hope that it will prove acceptable to the many people who have been listeners to the series of tales broadcast over CHNS, Halifax, every Sunday at 12:45, and who have requested copies of the various tales told before the microphone relative to the history of our City and Province and the Atlantic Ocean, with which our past activities are so much associated.

No attempt has been made to present these tales in regular story-book form, but rather to keep the radio atmosphere. The actual radio continuity is printed exactly as it was used on the air during the past twelve months.

The material for these radio talks was obtained from various sources. The historical facts from numerous history books and publicity material and historical pages read from time to time. Individuals too numerous to mention have contributed by expressions of their interest and by suggestions of subjects for talks, and in some cases actually telling he facts as they know them and these facts were simply put into broadcast form by the narrator of the tales. Special thanks are due previous writers on Nova Scotian history and wherever their writings are known as the source of information such mention is made in the script of the talk concerned.

The co-operation of Bob Chambers, the Halifax Herald’s popular illustrator, and Arthur Kane of the Maritime Photo Engravers is especially appreciated, they have contributed much toward the composition of this book. My thanks are also due to Bert Wetmore and Berton Robinson who have co-operated in collecting information from time to time, for some of the Tales Told Under the Old town Clock.

William C. Borrett - -Station Director, Radio Station CHNS, Halifax, Nova Scotia

During the past twelve months, a series of talks have been broadcast over Radio Station CHNS every Sunday under the title of Tales Told Under the Old Town Clock. These talks were all based on fact, and covered a wide variety of subjects dealing with past events in the history of Nova Scotia, which have earned for the province the title of “Canada’s most storied province”.

Many listeners have written to the narrator of these tales asking for copies of the talks broadcast during the past twelve months, hence this book of twenty-five tales selected from the radio scripts as presented before the microphone.
Preparing these weekly talks have been a most interesting task, and many facts have been discovered which at first seem incredible, but are substantiated by the records of history.

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.”

Halifax Explosion Harbour Narrows, Nova Scotia, Canada, December 6, 1917
December 6 was a lazy morning for some people, who had attended the political rallies the night before. They were tired physically and mentally. It had been a long war. Perhaps that is why children were late getting off school that morning. Many people were at home sick with the “flu” or worse. Pneumonia was very prevalent and “pneumonia jackets” were used that year for the first time. Another wonder, Antiphlogestine, had made an appearance in the medical circle. One heard of a few cases of diphtheria but they were isolated and no one gave them much thought.

School attendance was down that morning; many seeing the fire on Mont Blanc, loitered; and business men, too, lingered on their way to the shops. The early risers - the 6:00 factory workers and the 8:00 shift workers - were hard at work. Production was at a high level and scores of factories and foundries in Halifax and Dartmouth worked at full capacity.

Figure 1 HMCS Sackville
Halifax was almost a self-contained city. There was a ready market at her front door for her surpluses, and business was booming. Now, was less than 3 weeks to Christmas, the stores were getting stocked up with all sorts of “goodies”. The warehouses at the docks were bulging at the seams with food for home and abroad. Luxury items, jewelry, glass and china were destined to go to H.C. Browne Limited in preparation for a brisk Christmas trade.

Our soldiers depended on the bread line that extended between Canada and “the front”. This was constantly being replenished from the port of Halifax.
It was a bright morning with a chill in the air. The weather forecast testified to this: “fair, frozen ground, light northwest wind, no precipitation, temperature 39.2 maximum and minimum 16.8.”

A former Haligonian told me that looking out her window that morning she noted, “There was a barber on the harbor.” This was a light white fog suspended a few inches above the water. This fog or haze was not visible from all parts of the city. Many people remember it as being “a clear morning.”

Figure 2 Historic Properties
This was the usual activity along the waterfront. Many deck hands were busy with the never ending loading and unloading tasks that filled their days. Then there were the usual spectators, and sailors and soldiers off duty, with time on their hands; it was an interesting place to go.

The troop transports and the freighters awaiting convoy overseas seemed apart from the civilian and admiralty tugs which seemed to be more or less permanent guests on the waterfront. On that morning, between 80 and 100 crafts - vessels, schooners, troop transport, and freighters rested in the tranquil water of the harbor. On board, many were taking their last look at Halifax but were completely unaware of it. Some season sailors, who knew full well the dangers that lurked outside, felt it was an anxious time. Every day took its toll and the war was on everyone’s mind, especially if you were anticipating a trip “over there”.

Army, Navy and Merchant Marines men with their respective khaki and blue uniforms mingled with the civilian population.The British Warship Niobe recently purchased by Canada held a place of honor in the harbor. She had proven herself and now she was home and the Canadians were proud of her. The Royal Canadian Navy was only 4 years old and still had much to learn. Her officers were young and inexperienced. The British Navy looked upon it with a benevolent air and aided it in many ways. Indeed, many of the senior officers were on loan from the British Navy.

Figure 3 Acadia
Across the channel the town of Dartmouth lived very happily in the shadow of Halifax. It accepted the overflow from there and now had factories and industries of its own. The one connecting link was “the ferry”. Much larger then our present ferry, it carried everything, horses, people, freight, and never seemed to stop. There were always workers and shoppers on the move. The six mile channel known as the “narrows”, between Halifax Harbor and Bedford Basin was one of the examination points, many ships were forced to go there.

On that morning of December 6, the Imo, an old four-massed Norwegian steamship, prepared to sail. She was on her way to New York to pick up a cargo of Belgium relief supplies. The day before, she had been refueled too late to leave the basin. Captain From, Halifax pilot William Hayes and several members of her crew were on the bridge. The only unusual thing about it was the fact that she had not been given permission to sail as she was now proceeding up the channel.

Commander F.E. Wyatt, Chief Examining Officer, later testified to this at the inquiry.

Figure 4 Barrington Narrows
The Mont Blanc had arrived from New York the night before, too late to pass the boom. Captain Lemedec produced for Mate Terrence V. Freeman, R.C.N.V.R., Examining officer, and a manifest showing a full cargo of bulk explosives - principal item: 2,300 tons of picric acid. Pilot Francis MacKay came aboard that night and when the Mont Blanc received her clearing early the next morning they proceeded to enter the harbor.

What happened next has never been clearly explained. I hesitate to repeat what has already been written for now it runs something like the fable of the six blind men who came to see the elephant. I can only give you the reports of eye-witnesses who saw it happen.

It was the greatest disaster that ever struck a Canadian city; thousands were killed, hundreds more wounded and blinded. Many survivors say it was “sabotage” and “the Huns were behind it.” Others say it was “an accident”. But as one woman said, “How could two competent pilots allow such a thing to happen?” How indeed! To the world it is still an unsolved mystery.

I think of the overworked pilots and the pressure they must have worked under. At that time of the year the daylight hours were few and the ships entering and leaving the harbor were many. We know that the harbor tonnage had increased from 2 million to 17 million annually. Fourteen harbor pilots and 8 apprentices handled these ships.

Was disaster pending in the mind of Commander Wyatt when more than two years before “he had informed the then port Commander in a letter that he would ‘not be responsible’ for what might happen.”

What had he meant?

Figure 5 Historic Properties
“For months and months I saw an accident or collision was coming and I could see that there was somebody going to be made the goat for this, and I did not want to be made the goat you could call it intuition or what you like but that was my idea”.

Observers said conditions were ideal, there was room to spare, the sea was calm and visibility was excellent. Yet, apparently after the first exchange of whistles it soon became evident that here were two ships wanting to travel the same lane. One was heavily loaded and the other empty. There was no question as to which ship could move faster, yet the prow of the Imo buried itself deep in the starboard side of the Mont Blanc. The concealed drums of benzol and picric acid were ripped open and the liquid ran into the hold. The Imo drew back too late; already the spark caused by the impact had ignited the liquid and it began to burn with a bright blue flame. Only then was the Captain of the Imo aware of what the Mont Blanc was carrying and, fearing an explosion, he made haste to steer his ship away to the Dartmouth side.

It was then about a quarter to nine. Onlookers saw the Captain and crew of the Mont Blanc abandon ship and head for shore “rowing like mad men.” They made no attempt to put out the fire. They knew what a dangerous cargo she was carrying.

Figure 6 Telegraph
“Captain Lemedec admitted later that the first glimpse of flame out of the ship’s hold had been enough for him and his crew.”

Symbol for “I have explosives on board.”

The damaged Mont Blanc slowly drifted toward Pier 6. Meanwhile, Captain Brannen on the tug Stella Maris received an urgent heliograph signal from the naval look-out to abandon her duties and proceed to the Mont Blanc. Later, she was ordered to put a line aboard her and pull her away from the shore. Minutes later, they arrived to find the Mont Blanc deserted. They attempted to rig up water hoses but the heat was so intense it drove them back. Then the ships swung with the tide and Pier 6 was ignited by the flames. Now help arrived - a naval steam pinnace. Her sailors climbed aboard and also tried to rig up hoses. The Captain of the Highflyer and some of his crew also tried to help. Captain Brennan with his tug Stella Maris was attempting to tow the mot Blanc out into the harbor when disaster struck.

Minutes before Vincent Coleman, a telegraph operator, had watched the panorama from his office at the North Street Station and fearing an explosion he sent the following message to Truro.

“A munition ship is on fire and is heading for Pier 8. Good-bye”. This message probably saved thousands of lives. The outside world knew what had happened and help was on the way, yes, minutes after it happened.

Figure 7 Ammunition Ship
The crew of the Mont Blanc in their hurry to save their own necks had given no thought to the fate of the city. There were no heroes aboard the Mont Blanc. One crew member was supposed to have cried, “pou-dar, pou-dar”, as he ran for shelter on the Dartmouth side. The harbor pilot William MacKay was swept along with the rest.

In Halifax the fire bells were ringing and people rushed to their doors and windows to see where the fire was. The new fire engine “Patricia” was now on her way to Pier 9. At that time there were fireboats on the Halifax Harbor and the Halifax Fire Department answered all calls. When the Explosion came, people nearby couldn’t remember hearing it; they were in a state of shock. Those further away had difficulty describing it; it was like nothing they had ever heard before and it continued on for minutes. - Shattering, deafening, filling the air. There was no escaping; it was everywhere. Then came the silence. Some people describing it said, “It was as if the whole world stopped.” Then came the realization - that something terrible had happened.

Everyone who could move rushed outside, and there in the sky over the north end of the city was a large black cloud suspended over the city like a giant umbrella. Gone was the beautiful morning. Now, everything was dark. And then you heard it - the city coming to life. All around were the dead and the dying of the human voices and the animal noises and the crackling of the fires. The air was thick with black soot and smoke. Fiery inferno had swept the north end of the city. It was like a huge vacuum cleaner - very little remained to be seen. It swept over the entire Richmond District. Approximately two and a half square miles was destroyed before it spent its fury and stopped just short of Africville. Scarcely a window was left intact in the entire city. Many cuts and eye injuries were caused by flying glass. Damage occurred as far as 16 miles and the Explosion was heard in Prince Edward Island and on the Island of Cape Breton.

Minutes later when people looked they couldn’t believe their eyes. First, a feeling of disbelief - what had happened? Many people were sure that the Germans had arrived, but those who had watched the fire on the ship knew what had happened. The Mont Blanc was no longer there and neither was part of their city. Those who could walk and think, and lived in the city, immediately started to go to their homes, oblivious to everything. Others, in a state of shock, just wandered around.

It is said that the blast was deflected off Citadel Hill and that saved part of the city. If that is so, then Citadel Hill played a role in the defense of the city - one she had waited 200 years to fulfill.

The north end of Dartmouth also suffered, but to a lesser degree. A piece of the Mont Blanc’s anchor weighing a half ton landed over two miles away. Her 95 mm stern gun was found in a lake back of Dartmouth. Other bits and pieces turned up here and there over the city. Some are on display at the Citadel Hill Museum. A 20 foot length of heavy steel chain from her deck flew a mile and a half across the harbor, smashed in a wall of a military hospital and killed a number of patients.

Figure 8 Explosion Shocked Building
The H.M.S. Niobe was badly shattered and suffered heavy casualties but she was still afloat. The Stella Maris was hurtled over Pier 8 and badly damaged. Nineteen of her crew members on board were killed. The Imo was driven over to the Dartmouth side. The Captain, Pilot William Hayes, and most of her crew perished when they went to the aid of the Mont Blanc. The Casacas, a new British steamship at Pier 8 sank, taking with her 49 members of her crew who had gathered to watch the fire. Even the stones on the harbor bottom became flying missiles. In one incident, 64 workmen at a pier were killed by a huge boulder.

After the Explosion came a gigantic tidal wave. It swept over the piers, and up the city streets taking hundreds to watery graves. Ships touched bottom and the effects were felt by ships many miles away. Terror prevailed throughout the city. Most people thought the Germans had fired on the city. There was no way to tell them the truth. Later, when a fire threatened a munition dump, the militia spread the word: everyone was to move to open spaces and parks, to the south Citadel Hill. Point Pleasant Park and the Gulf Lakes were crowded with people - some still clad in night clothes, others were bleeding and moaning, but all very grateful that they were alive.

Another explosion might have happened but for the brave actions of some men. The S.S. Pictou, a Munition ship, was taking on provisions some distance from Pier 8. The deck hands that were loading her saw the fire aboard the Mont Blanc and fearing an explosion aboard her covered the Pictou’s hatches. Seconds later the explosion came and the pier roof collapsed and killed all the men. Captain J.W. Harrison saw what had happened and rushed on deck. Single handed he kept the fire that had started under control until help came. Another explosion would have killed hundreds more.

Word quickly spread that the soldiers had flooded the munition dump and the people could go back to their homes - that is, those who had homes to go to. That mass evacuation of people restricted the rescue workers for a short while and this was unfortunate for many died. But the authorities acted in good faith and could not be blamed.
The fire department lost its chief and most of its equipment. Hundreds of fires raged unchecked throughout the city. Overturned stoves caused many of them. Outside fire departments quickly came to help.

It was now that the soldiers and sailors started the work of cleaning up. Their training was invaluable in a city totally unprepared for disaster. It was they who first started to restore law and order, rescuing people and taking the wounded to the hospitals. They played a “big role” in the rehabilitation of Halifax. Later they were aided by help from the outside, but for the first few important hours they were alone. S.H. Prince, in his story of the disaster said: “but the earliest leadership that would be called social was that part of those who had no family ties, much of the earliest work being done by visitors to the city. The others as a rule ran first to their homes to discover their own families were in danger.”

People wondered why they behaved like they did. There was little panic. Even now, although 57 years have passed, people are still trying to understand why and how they did some of the things they did. Some displayed super natural strength. Others went 4 days without food or sleep. Many had little clothing yet they survived. “An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior.”

This was certainly proven in the Halifax disaster. “In Halifax there was little crying. There seemed to be indeed a miserable and strong consolation in the fact that all were alike involved in the same calamity. There was no bitterness, no complaint, only a great and eager desire to help someone less fortunate…”

“Fire Chief Edward Condon, Deputy Chief Edward Brunt and Engineer Peter Broderick who were proceeding to Deep Water Terminal and the Chief’s automobile were hurled in the air and instantly killed.”

The ferry was near the Dartmouth shore and felt the concussion from the water even before it was felt in the air. Flying glass caused many injuries and some of the passengers were badly bruised, but the ferry stayed afloat.

Squads of sailors and soldiers worked throughout the night, men and officers alike. Soldiers picketed the streets for many of the shops had no windows and they were well filled with supplies of all sorts, not only food and clothing but also gold and silver items, all exposed to the elements. There was little looting, everyone being numbed by the horror of what had happened.

On Friday, December 7, the official weather report read “9 a.m. W.E. wind velocity 19, snow falling. At noon, N.W. gale, afternoon blizzard conditions - 9 p.m. N.W. wind velocity 34, precipitation 16.0 in snow. Temperature - max. 32.2 - min. 24.8.”

The Morning Chronicle was the only paper to get out an edition between Thursday morning and Friday afternoon. Dartmouth had suffered a similar fate and hardly a pane of glass was left intact. Every second person suffered in some manner, many receiving terrible cuts by flying glass.

A relief committee organized soon after the disaster requested:

1. All parents or guardians seeking lost children and all persons who are housing lost children are requested to call at the City Clerk’s Office and register.
2. All persons who are homeless and need shelters are also requested to register with the City Clerk when they will be assigned quarters as soon as possible.
3. All persons who are willing to provide accommodations for sufferers are requested to file their names together with accommodations available with the City Clerk…

In Dartmouth a similar notice was issues. Every effort was made to look after the homeless - but many suffered because they were “out of touch” with authorities. Free food and clothing depots were set up throughout the city. Ben’s Ltd. had teams on the street with bread. They rang a bell to announce their arrival on the street. One kind man donated a $100 to be given out in free bread.

The Richmond district was populated mostly by working people. It was an ever changing scene. People came and went and it was impossible to give an accurate census of it. Whose families disappeared and there were none to report.

Mr. A.C. Fraser, Superintendent of the C.P.R. telegraph system, organized a staff that kept going night and day, relaying messages of need, which were quickly answered by the outside world. The Western Union was severely damaged by the explosion and the storm that followed. It is said that the C.P.R. wires did not fail although only one strand of wire remained.

Special trains left for Windsor and Truro with casualties. Later, a special rain with doctors and nurses arrived from Moncton, Sackville, Amherst, Truro, and Kentville.

On Saturday, a Boston Red Cross train armed with doctors, nurses, and supplies arrived. Mr. Rathesky was in charge of this relief unit. When he arrived at Saint John and heard that conditions were more serious than the public realized, he telegraphed the Massachusetts Safety Committee to ship down several carloads of glass and send along some glaziers. Later when he saw the conditions of the streets due to the snow, he ordered 10 auto trucks with drivers.
Members of the General Committee in their dealings with the representative of Massachusetts Governor have warmly commended his work and there is no need of praise they would not bestow. They have been helped by his quick conception of the best solution of problems and his ever failing courtesy in jointly discussing them.

Later, an American Hospital ship arrived and they took many of the desperate cases aboard.

On December 8, the body of Pilot William Hayes from the Belgium relief ship Imowas found near the shore near Oland’s Brewery.

What was Halifax like that fall of 1917?

Figure 1 Halifax Exhibition

I found it had one big attraction. Every year, people came from far and near to the Exhibition. The war did little to dampen the spirits of the people; indeed, it seemed to add a little extra glamour. The Halifax Herald reported,

Halifax will be at its best Exhibition week. There is a reason why every Nova Scotian should visit the Exhibition this year. We would like to tell you all about it, but the censor would get us if we did so. This much we can tell you, and that is that you should come and see for yourself… It is generally admitted that Halifax was never more attractive than it is now and as it will be for the next two or three weeks. The papers do not give the faintest idea of what is going on. What you don’t read in the papers is what you want to come to see…

It will be a good plan to reserve a half day for sightseeing in the Halifax stores and a day or a half day to seeing the sights of the city. We would suggest among other things a visit to the new terminal at the south end. One can form and idea of the immensity of this undertaking. It is one of the greatest engineering feats of the age. From what we can learn the Exhibition will be unusually attractive and the horse races are going to be good ones. All roads lead to Halifax on or after the 12th. The person who misses the big show will miss the event of a lifetime.

A friend told me that every year they took their parrot and he staged his own “side show”. He was able to sing in a clear voice two songs, “I will not leave thee, though I said Goodbye, sweetheart, Goodbye.” This was a popular song during the war years. He also sang “Three Blind Mice”. Is it any wonder that he walked off with the prize every year? Finally, he was refused entry because other bird owners protested. He was also a politician and when years before Tom Kenny was running for Mayor, his owners placed him on a window ledge and he chanted, “Take off your hat for Tom Kenny” all day. This did not last long. One sad day he was found on the ground in a dejected state. It was thought that not everyone was a supporter of Tom Kenny and someone had deliberately knocked him down. Parrots were very plentiful and talented and they came from “far away” places. The grey and pink ones came from Australia. The green ones were noted for their singing ability. One women told me her brother had always whistled a certain tune. After an absence of six years he came home and when their parrot heard his voice he began to whistle “his tune”. In another incident a parrot recognized his former owner and called her by her name although he had not seen her for over 29 years. It is any wonder they took them to the Exhibition? Another reminder of the Exhibition comes from Clayton and Sons, Jacob Street, to buy a new business suit, $18.00 to $35.00. The Corona Café offered a mid-day dinner, a la carte, 20¢ to 40¢. You could get a dressed spring chicken with steamed potatoes, creamed carrots, and a choice of dessert - tapioca, custard pudding, ice cream, apple, mince, cream, lemon, and raisin pie - for 25¢. Oh sorry, you had to pay an extra 5¢ for your tea, coffee, milk, or desserts. Roast Loin of Beef and pan gravy was only 25¢. The menu makes one hungry for you not only had a choice of 6 meat dinners, but also haddock, cod, salmon, and mackerel. One of the next attractions the city offered was “the War Trophies Exhibit”. The Halifax Herald reported,

The trophies were brought from overseas under the direction of a Canadian Government official, Lieutenant Colonel Doughty. They were collected at various parts of the fighting fronts and some of them were taken from the enemy by our own Nova Scotian soldiers.

Figure 2 Halifax Exhibition Park

Among the attractions to be seen War Trophy Week was an armed French airplane “fresh from the firing line.” The Halifax Herald carried this report,

The most effective weapon of modern warfare has played an important part on the Western front and has crossed the German lines twenty or thirty times. It is fully armed; carrying a machine gun and six torpedoes, is equipped with an 110h.p. engine and has accommodation for two persons.

Another interesting feature will be a large German 99m.m. gun captured by the Canadians at Vimy Ridge…This gun is particularly interesting because it bears on it the obvious marks of a direct hit during that action. Two of the famous 75’s will be included and an Italian mountain gun. This gun is painted camouflage and built so it can be carried on a mule’s back.

Among the features that pertain to the war will be the exhibit of a complete field of Hospital equipment. This will especially appeal to the people of Nova Scotia who have friends and relations now overseas. This demonstration is practically continuous and the visitor will see what happens to a wounded soldier from the time he is brought in by the stretcher until he leaves for the base hospital. There will be a large staff of orderlies and nurses, in connection with this demonstration… The educational value of the whole War Trophies exhibit should be especially beneficial to the young. Every boy and girl in the city and the province will have a better comprehension of the significance of the war by studying it and by asking questions; a staff of people has been provided especially for educational work.

Canada had been at war for well over three years, and hopes were high that it would soon be over. The Halifax Herald had good news for its readers.

The standardized ships, Britain’s great hope in the overcoming of the submarine devilishness of the Huns, are becoming a frequent sight in our harbor. Yesterday, a Halifax Herald reporter was in company with an officer of one of these ships and learned some interesting things about their construction which is now going on in the shipyards of the United Kingdom at the average rate of ten a week.

“Do you see that ship?” asked the officer as he pointed to his steamer out in the harbor. “I saw her launched. I was right in the yard and it is an actual fact that within 15 minutes of the slips been vacated keel plates were being laid for another ship just like her. She was built right up to schedule in every particular and was launched within 5 minutes of the pre-arranged time…

There is one thing about it,” said the officer, “The Germans have destroyed a lot of ships for us, but by doing so they have taught us how to build ships in a way that knocks them absolutely out of ever being able to compete with us. It’s not going to take us very long, after this war is over, to replace all the tonnage that has been destroyed and what we want to see is a finish to the war that will make the Germans pay all the bills.”

The water front was an interesting place to be during World War 1, especially if you happened to find yourself a guard on duty there. This is how an old soldier remembers it,

Figure 3 Halifax Harbor

“I remember one night I found myself in such a position. A heavy fog was drifting in, visibility was zero and familiar objects took on weird shapes. There I was, prodding back and forth with only my rifle for the occasional slapping of the waves on the beach below. My thoughts turned to my home in Cape Breton. Would I get home this year? I was thinking probably about our cows, when I heard it. It sounded like a cow chewing her cud, but that was impossible. There were no cows around; I haven’t seen one since I left home. But there it was again, that dull muffled “click click.” I peered into the darkness but could see nothing. I held my breath, someone was coming, and from the beach, where no one was allowed. I called “Halt”. He replied in a language I did not know and kept on coming. Now was the time for action; I aimed my rifle over his head and fired. Immediately, several soldiers rushed out of the guard house and seized him and a parcel that proved to be a bomb. Next day my mysterious noise was explained. Our “visitor” had used a pair of wire snippers to cut the barb-wire and get into our camp. The enemy must have thought we slept all night.”

His Excellency, Sir Robert Borden the Governor-General, came to visit on a good-will tour. The Lieutenant Governor had a small dinner party for him, only 36 guests. His Worship the Mayor was included in the guest list. Sorry, no ladies.

Work was plentiful and many came seeking their fortunes. Some succeeded while others failed. The failures were blamed on “the Kaiser”. He was “enemy No.1″ and that was one thing everyone agreed on. One way those on the “home front” could retaliate was to buy Victory bonds. On one page of a daily paper I counted nine separate appeals to buy bonds. They were the acceptable patriotic gift for birthday and Christmas. If they hated the Kaiser it was with good cause. Some families had one or more “over there”. The five daily papers, The Morning Chronicle, The Evening Mail, The Halifax Herald, The Daily Echo, and the Acadian Recorder kept the people informed. The campaign to buy Victory Bonds got off on Monday November 12, 1917. The daily papers in Halifax carried numerous reminders to “Buy Bonds” and kept everyone up to date on the progress of the campaign.

Many people were engaged in defense work, and the Maritime Provinces had the highest enlistment rate of all of Canada. A factor that I think might have helped in this was the dedication of the newspapers and their continuous appeal to the citizens to do their part. Many local businesses bought and used their advertising space to help the Victory Bond campaign and the War Effort.

The Morning Chronicle stated,

“The woman’s part in the war is to buy a Victory Bond - Will you play your part?”

Guilford and Sons, Limited sponsored this advertisement: “Why should you subscribe for Canada’s Victory Bonds? Because your national safety is at stake and Canada must have money to support our soldiers fighting in France.”

This notice was sponsored by the Nova Scotia Tramways and Power Company Limited and carried in the Morning Chronicle: Buy Bonds and Beat the Boches. Every Victory Bond you buy is a blow for freedom. If you cannot shoulder a rifle yourself lend the Government the money to buy a rifle for some one else to shoulder. The more rifles, the fewer Germans.

Figure 4 Chronicle Herald

The Morning Chronicle’s front page on December 1, 1917 carried this optimistic report,

Fourteen Million In Sight! Let Us Make It Fifteen! If every Victory Loan canvasser does the very best he can today, Nova Scotia’s objective in the great campaign will be attained. Will They Do It? Sure They Will!

On December 3, 1917, the Morning Chronicle reported,

Victory Loan Has Broken The Record - All points in Nova Scotia Report Being Swamped in Sea of Applications for Bonds. $15,384,600 Received for Province With Immense Surplus Still Flowing into Central Committee.

On December 4, 1917, the Morning Chronicle carried this note on the front page,

Halifax must raise $229,100 in the Victory Loan Campaign in order to take the last of its objective of $5,000,000.

Those who are working in the interests of the loan feel confident that the total will be forthcoming. Canada’s Victory Loan, comparing per capita wealth is a greater success than the United States Liberty Loan which by its magnitude astounded the world.

On a lighter note, a “sealing wax” craze had struck the city of Halifax. Everyone used it. You melted it by holding it over a candle or a spirit lamp and then it could be molded into many interesting shapes. You could also dissolve it in alcohol and use it to paint things. It would then dry to a hard shiny finish. It was available in many colors, including silver and gold. I remember seeing red used on letters when I was a little girl.

On Monday, October 15, for a mere 15¢, one could attend a humorous lecture, “What Everybody Wants - or Life’s Priceless Treasure,” by Rev. Harold T. Roe at the Oxford Street Methodist School Hall. A miscellaneous program was also planned with artists Mrs. Hector Macgregor, Mr. Baileau, Miss Belle Hambly, Miss Lillian King, Miss Madge Norris and others.

Figure 5 Purdy’s Dwarf

The New Prince George Hotel on the corner of Hollis and Sackville had just opened. It was described as having “light, airy rooms, absolutely new from cellar to attic, having been all newly furnished complete, and is modern and up to date in every respect.

It would seem that there was no scarcity of hotels; four others were advertised in the Morning Chronicle. The Queen Hotel gave quality, comfort, and service. The Halifax Hotel simply made a summer trip to Halifax an ideal vacation. The Revere Hotel prided itself on being the most convenient in Halifax - directly opposite the Railway Station. Then, at the corner of Argyle and Prince was the Carleton House - central, pleasant, and modern; “high-class Cuisine, Home-like.” The Carleton is still there. I suspect it was the “Cuisine, Home-like” that helped it to survive through the years.

On an average day at the Queen, 117 guests registered; at the Carleton, 23; at the Revere, 25; and at the Halifax Hotel, 87. Each would have a “full-house”.

If you were thinking about going to the Toronto Exhibition, the Canadian Railways were issuing round trip tickets at special rates. The through express trains via the Canadian Government Railways, the Ocean Limited, and the Maritime Express made connections with Montreal and Toronto, giving the traveler “a fast and comfortable journey by train, the equal to any on the continent.”

Every fall there are those of us who anxiously await the “new cars”. In the fall of 1917, Robinson’s Ltd., 5 Doyle St., offered a beautiful new 1918 Maxwell for sale. This is what they said about it:

“Without altering the world champion motor, the famous perfected clutch and transmission or the mighty axles, the Maxwell builders have produced a new wonder car, far superior in construction and in appearance to anything yet turned out by the Maxwell factories - we have this new and beautiful car - come and see it.”

What would you pay for this wonder? Their advertisement quotes these prices: Touring car, $1045; Roadster, $1045; Coupe, $1540; Berline, $1540; and Sedan, $1540.

I wonder how many bought new cars? If you were one of the lucky ones who did, you would certainly be asked to lend it.

Will You Lend Your Car To Returned Soldiers? They are here now - seven hundred of them; and the Red Cross Committee plan to give them a drive Sunday afternoon.

As before, we appeal to the generosity of car-owners. Wonderfully generous has been the response in the past. Will you lend your car, send or bring it Sunday afternoon at 2:30 to Pier Two? Both the committee and the returned men will be duly grateful.

With scarcely a home in Halifax untouched by the war I am sure they got their quota of cars.

Although the majority burnt coal or wood there were those women who said they wouldn’t be without their gas range. Gas was advertised as being “cheaper, cleaner and quicker than any other fuel.”

If you made your own bread and the majority did, you might have been influenced by an advertisement for “The Flour That Rises to the Nation’s Kneads”. “Regal Flour approaches the ideal for purity, whiteness, wholesomeness, insures the light, sweet, well-browned bread, with the nutritious values, at every baking - and is guaranteed. Try a barrel”.

There were also small dignified advertisements, reminders to get your “Calling Cards - engraved and printed”.

I hope you are beginning to see Halifax as it was in 1917 - a truly fascinating place - a world of war, victory bonds, beautiful new Maxwells, the Halifax Exhibition, calling cards and Johnny Canuck - the Canadian soldier cartoon hero.

The “grand parade” on Sunday was crowded with people. Women’s fashions had undergone a gradual change; skirts were shorter, and shoes were high. Hats were large and held down with hat pins; hair was long. Most women wore a locket or a watch on a chain around their necks.

It was not uncommon to see men carrying walking sticks; some of which were elaborately trimmed with silver, or even mounted in solid gold for the more affluent. Prices for walking sticks ranged from $2.50 to $28.00, at a local Halifax jeweler.

The Pathe’ Pathephone Shop on Barrington Street invited every “Gramophone” owner to come down and hear their records. An enormous selection of records with an up-to-date repertoire was available and included such artists as Ruffe, Muratore, Cavalieri and many others. Prices ranged from $ .85 to $5.00.

Conscription was the big political issue. “The North-end women are just as determined as their South-End sisters that NO political party and NO Quebec leader shall sign the Death Warrant of OUR Soldiers.” Lieutenant “Toby” Jones, a returned veteran, said, “The slimy, cringing weakling at home here today, who introduces issues that would have the effect of serving the vital arteries ensuring desperately needed reinforcements to our men ‘over there’ are too contemptible to mention. No language or words are too scathing to condemn them.”

A Quebec man said he would shoot the first man who came to “conscript” him. He was given a one-year sentence for impeding the Military Service Act.

I wonder what song the people sang during the First World War, when their lights went out? During the Second World War we sang, “When the lights came on again, all over the world.” Halifax, Dartmouth and vicinity had had to conceal their lights since September 12, 1914, by order of T. Benson, Major-General, and Commanding Military District No.6.

“All the lights in Private Houses, Shops, Warehouses and other Buildings or Enclosures must be obscured by the use of blinds. All the lights or cluster of lights outside of Shops, Places of Amusements, Clubs, Churches, Hotels, and Public Buildings and all city and Public lights must be obscured in such a way as not to throw a glare into the sky or seawards.”

Figure 6 Bedford Nova Scotia

The vicinity concerned was a large area, starting from the narrows of Bedford Basin and extending inland from Western Shore of Halifax Harbor to a point four miles inland and thence running in a southerly directions 15 miles to a point, Sambro Island, and from the Eastern Shore of Halifax Harbor to a point 3 miles inland, and thence in a southerly direction, 11 miles, to a point, Osbourne Head.

A penalty was heavy; anyone violating this Regulation would be liable to a fine “not exceeding $5,000, or imprisonment for a time not exceeding 5 years, or to both fine and imprisonment….”

Although the war was on everyone’s mind, life went on more or less in a normal manner. Local businesses prospered. If you still burned coal, as so many did, the “Richmond Silver Moon Stoves” were economical, efficient and easy to operate, made by Hollis & Sons Limited, Hollis Street. If you suffered from toothache, you could get painless extraction for only 25¢. You would also get “the best artificial teeth in Canada at the most reasonable rate” from Boston Dental Parlors, Barrington Street. If you felt like a night out, Elsa Ryan as “’Appy Annie” in “Out There” was playing at the Academy; nights, 50¢ to $1.50; Matinee, 50¢ to $1.00.

If you wanted Calico potatoes and who didn’t, some had just arrived at Joseph Wood and Company Central Wharf. I remember hearing my Mother speak of those potatoes. They used to plant them in burst lands and they grew to an enormous size. They were pink and white inside and nice and mealy.

On Dominion Day, 1916, a Provincial Law had come into effect which had prohibited the sale of intoxicating liquor. However, all was not “dry” in Halifax. The Acadian Recorder carried this interesting piece of information.

Announcement Regard Present Use. Orders for Wine and Spirits.

Since the coming into force of the prohibition law in Halifax and other parts of the province, the need of a responsible local firm with whom orders can be left for wines and spirits, for general use has been keenly felt. With the object of filling this need the Halifax Import Company has been established. It is now prepared to receive all orders for wines and spirits for bonafide personal use, subject to the approval of our principals in Montreal, for whom we are the sole agents in the Maritime Provinces. We positively refuse to fill any orders in violation of the N.S. Temperance Act. Bootleggers and others who seek procure liquors for illegal purpose cannot do business with this firm.

The zealous observers of the new Prohibition Law could choose a legal beverage from the many advertised daily in their own newspapers.

The Halifax Herald carried this advice from the makers in their own newspapers.

Every woman should endeavor to make tea properly. Even Morse’s, the standard on this market, may be disappointing if improperly used. Freshly boiled water, the right proportion of tea and water for the number of cups and strength desired, and the IMMEDIATEL SERVING of the tea after it is brewed are essentials in the art of making tea.

Figure 7 Coffee Lovers

For the coffee and cocoa lovers, The Morning Chronicle had this to say,

Ever Taste Crushed Coffee? If you have, you’ve wondered at the entire absence of even a hint of bitterness. It is because the small, even, clean, crushed; grains of Red Rose Coffee are entirely free from bitter chaff or dust. You taste the true rich coffee flavor - and that alone. Red Rose Coffee is of such a quality that no egg is necessary to clear it. It is as easily made as Red Rose tea, and pours out of the pot bright and clear, with a fragrance that fills the room, and your heart with joy. It’s the class, is Red Rose Coffee.

If you wanted to be different you could try cocoa. Manufactured by John P. Motts & Co. Halifax.

If you would like to taste the best in cocoa, try a cup of Motts Breakfast cocoa. It is in a class by itself.

Along with the ever-present war news, there was tragedy nearer home. From Saint John came the report of a steamer recently arrived, which soon after leaving England had crashed into a trawler.

It was night and the fog was thick and the steamer was traveling at full speed when suddenly the watch saw directly in her path a trawler. A moment later the two vessels came together, the passenger steamer cutting the smaller craft to the water’s edge. She sank almost immediately causing the deaths of some 20 members of her crew.

Now and again the war-conscious public would be made aware of another enemy - crime. The Halifax Herald on November 24, 1917, carried this article:

Gigantic Underworld System Discovered in the Very Heart of Halifax.

Inspector Tracey and Sgt. Palmer raided the notorious Carmichael - Slattery dive at 11:30 yesterday, and found it to be a “mysterious place” filled with all kinds of devices to evade the law. The fact developed during the raid that the building had been especially equipped with law evading devices imported from the United States, and erected by and expert - although the supply of booze had apparently been disposed of Thursday afternoon and night, they found eight barrels of empty ale, whiskey and rum bottles ready to be shipped out.

This Slattery “dive” is the most notorious “blind pig” in the city, and the proprietor had boasted of his spy system, also the fact that he was “tipped off” before the police made a raid. Considering the fact that the authorities now have EVIDENCE of this gigantic underworld “system”, all decent citizens will feel relieved when the persons implicated are imprisoned.

Meanwhile, the port of Halifax continued to be busy. On this day, December 3, 1917, The Morning Chronicle reported: eight schooners arrived, nine more were cleared, and forty-three vessels were in port.

From a Pacific port, came this new item:

The first wooden vessel for the Government Merchant fleet to be launched anywhere in the United States will take the water here today. The ship of 4,000 tons drod-weight, 290 feet over all, has been built in what is claimed to world’s record time of 120 days.

Figure 8 Tern Schooner Mast

At Hantsport, Nova Scotia, a Tern Schooner was successfully launched on November 27, 1917:

The vessel had been on the stocks all summer under the direct care of Mr. Beaudreau, Master builder of Bellveaux Co., of Digby Co. The E.E. Armstrong if the 48th vessel including the celebrated clipper ship County Yarmouth, built by this efficient Acadian builder.

I was looking over the newspapers of 1917 when I saw and advertisement for “Juniper Knees”. What are they? I puzzled over this until I had the good sense to ask my friend Mr. Wainwright in the newspaper room at the Public Archives of Nova Scotia. He seemed surprised that I did not know and asked me what part of Nova Scotia I had been brought up in. When I said Richmond County, Cape Breton, he seemed to think that explained it. But they had built ships in Richmond County; my trouble was I had not been born then. Juniper Knees or Ships Knees came in various sizes; Juniper and Spruce being the popular woods. They had a natural curve n the root system that was necessary in building boats.

On December 4, the following official statement had been authorized by General Mewburn, Minister of Militia,

All farmers coming within Class A called out for Military service under the provisions of the Military Service Act, who are actually employed on a farm in the production of food stuffs for Canada and her allies and whose services are necessary in the work of the farm will be exempted for military services.

The Morning Chronicle’s slogan, “Service if the highest form of patriotism,” appeared to have been taken literally:

For the first time in the history of Dartmouth, a lady stood up on a public platform to speak at a political meeting. The lady was Mrs. Charles Archibald of Halifax and the occasion was a rally of the supporters of the Union Government held at St. Peter’s Hall. In every respect, the meeting was a splendid success… It was noticeable that a considerable number of the gentler sex of Dartmouth was present.

What was the Union Government? Colin MacNab, chairman of the meeting said,

The man who voted for the Union candidates would not have to desert his party, were he Liberal or Conservative. This was an election in which it should be the aim of every man and woman who had the privilege of voting to remember that it was for the benefit of humanity that they would mark their ballot, if they supported the Union Government.

In the United States, women workers replaced men to clear the tracks. Officials of the railroad say “that they keep their sections in better order than the men.”

Meanwhile, in Halifax the Liberal and Labor Candidates Blackadder and Eisenor, held two mass meetings at St. Patrick’s Hall & St. Joseph’s Hall. They were well attended by an “enthusiastic and representative gathering of men & women.”

On December 5, 1917, the weather was cloudy and cold, with snow expected near the coast.

There were two meetings for women scheduled that evening in Halifax, with Dr. Adam as guest speaker. The Morning Chronicle reported:

Mr. Adam, who was one of England’s greatest orators, is a member of the Imperial Munitions Board and has spent a great deal of his time at General Headquarters, in France and on the western battle front. He saw our Nova Scotia soldiers assist in the storming and capture of Vimy Ridge. He saw the brutal Huns beaten back at Verdun. He had been with our boys in the trenches. He has a message that will thrill the women of Halifax. DO NOT FAIL TO HEAR HIM TO-NIGHT.

The Rev. George Adam had also addressed a meeting in Halifax a few days earlier and an account was written up in The Morning Chronicle, December 3,

He (Rev. Adams) said that it was not his first visit to Halifax and recalled an incident that occurred during his first visit here in the early part of the war, when the German Karlsruhe was very active in the Atlantic and had forced a steamer he was on to put into this port. At the outbreak of the war his chief duty of life was to keep men out of Hell, but when the war began he got a position in the Munition Department, and has since been doing his bit towards sending Germans where they belong and they were going there. Referring to the high explosive shells at the front, Mr. Adam said that we must have a steady stream of men in order to keep the good work up…. Mr. Adam showed one of the Medal’s struck in Germany in commemoration of the sinking of the Lusitania, which proved that the German government premeditated murder of innocent women and children. The steamer had left New York two days late, but when she reached the coast of Ireland she met her fate. The medals were dated May 5, and showed that they were struck before the Lusitania left New York.

He blamed Frederick the Great for the system which now controlled Germany. Several rules were laid down by him and these have been adhered to by all his successors. He also spoke of the work of the German Ambassadors abroad as spies. The treaties which Germany signed were never binding if they acted to her disinterest.

He (Rev. Adam) also referred to the speech of Harry Lauder in Montreal when he said that God had told us to love our enemies, but he did not tell us to love his enemies, Germans who had been through the military machines were beasts. This can be proved by their drive into Italy, where we find the atrocities committed in Belgium repeated.

Who could doubt reports like this, especially when we read from Liverpool, England, that the “Liverpool steamship owners association reported that 231 of its ships with total tonnage of 1,465,046 were numbered among its losses since August, 1914. The marine losses numbered 33 vessels with a total of 174,359 tons. New vessels added to the fleet numbered 131 vessels with a total tonnage of 946,532.”

And then with more grim news The Morning Chronicle reported:

Crew of Norwegian Steamer Have Harrowing Experiences in Lifeboat.

Honolula, December 3. After 14 days at sea in a 22 foot open life-boat, 15 members of the crew of the foundered Norwegian Steamer, Thor, were safe today at the Norwegian consulate here. All the crews were accounted for. They had suffered severely from exposure and exhaustion.

The Halifax Herald had its own sad tales:

80 passengers and crew perish. London, December 5. - The British steamer Apapa has been torpedoed and sunk. 80 passengers and the crew of the vessel perished. About 120 passengers were saved. It is reported that the submarine fired on women and children in open boats.

The Apapa was a vessel of 7,852 tons gross. She was built in Glasgow in 1914 and was owned by the African Steamship Company.

This was the 1219th day of the war. How could anyone forget?

Figure 9 Downtown Halifax

Chief of Police Major Rudland was quoted in The Halifax Herald, December 5, as saying:

I don’t want to talk politics but I sincerely hope that no Rotarian will do anything to hinder the immediate sending of reinforcements to the men in the trenches. Our lines are getting very thin and what we want is MEN, and we need them in the worst possible way.

On December 5, The Morning Chronicle reported that Halifax city and county had now reached their objective of 5 million dollars in the Victory Loan Campaign while the province of Nova Scotia had passed the 18 million dollar mark. A telegram was sent to the Kaiser giving him this good news. On the evening of December 5, Harry Piers went over to see his Mother and later wrote this in his diary:

Bess, Nora and Margaret Bownan were over at St. James Sunday School house nearby, putting up flags, etc., in preparation for a concert by H.M.S. “Perhaps” (this is H.M.S. Highflyer) which Nora had arranged for tomorrow evening December 6 at 8 p.m. in order to get money to finish with matched boarding in the interior of the Sunday School. I took 3 tickets for that concert from Nora, so that Constance, our son, and I might go.

And so the curtain fell; for many people it would be their last night on earth. For many others it would be the eve of a nightmare that went on and on. But sanity prevailed and the survivors rebuilt their lives, and their homes, and made Halifax what it is today.

Figure 1 Halifax 2007

A direct result of the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle was the founding of Halifax, the oldest British settlement in what now is the Dominion of Canada. The project of settling Nova Scotia with British colonists had been urged upon the home government with Shirley and others at various times in the past, but with no result. Now, however, the renewed activity of the French after the cession of Louisburg caused the British Government to bestir itself in earnest. £40,000 was voted for the enterprise, and prospective settlers were offered land and one year’s rations, besides tools and arms.

George Montague, Earl of Halifax, head of the Lords of Trade and Plantations was given the task of organizing settlers to establish a permanent British settlement and military station on the Atlantic coast. This settlement was soon to bear his name, replacing the Indian name of “Chebookt” meaning the “Chief Harbor”, or “Great Long Harbor” and the French one of “Chibeucton”. The Honorable Edward Cornwallis became Governor of Nova Scotia on May 9, 1749. His first task was to bring 2572 men, women and children to their new home. Many were discharged Army and Navy men and they traveled on the Sphinx, a sloop of war and thirteen transports leaving England on May 14th and arriving at Chebucto, now Halifax Harbor, on June 21st. On the 22nd he sent a dispatch back to England saying: “the coasts are as rich as ever the have been represented, we caught fish every day since we came within forty leagues of the coast. The harbor itself is full of fish of all kinds. All the officers agree the harbor is the finest they have ever seen. The country is one continued wood, no clear spot is to be seen or heard of”.

Figure 2 Historic Properties

I caught up with that Honorable gentlemen a few weeks ago. I was rushing to catch a train and he was standing on a tiny green square above the C.N. Station, his great cloak blowing in the wind, green with age. He had his back to the city he founded over 200 years ago. His eyes are on the harbor and rightly so, for it is the harbor that has, made Halifax what it is today - the second largest Port in the world. It had been a hundred lane highway connected to every port in the world. Yes, we are proud of our super highways today but the water ways built our country to what it is today.

The Honorable Edward Cornwallis had a very difficult task ahead of him. In the first place he faced with a forest and his inexperienced workers had no desire to play “hide and seek” with the Indians. Secondly, the ever present “epidemics” took their toll of man power. Yet, in spite of these difficulties, by the 23rd of July twelve acres were cleared. The trees provided logs for the first crude homes. Pointed logs, when place perpendicular, gave the settlers a palisade and some measure of security.

The oath of office was administered in a simple ceremony aboard the transport Beaufort. Engineer Grace and Surveyor Morris laid the plans for the town on the eastern slope of the hill. Luckily, the settlers had helped that first year. Wooden frames and other materials were sent from Massachusetts. By the time the first snow fell, some houses were ready, unfortunately not enough, and so many spent that first winter on transports that remained in the harbor. Perhaps that factor encouraged the “epidemics” that flourished. Fortifications were of primary importance; when Halifax was settled, the hill on the western side was one of the focal points in its defense. The first fortifications began in 1761 by Basti. It was constructed by 500 Maroon Negroes from Jamaica under order of the Duke of Kent. The Citadel as we know it was actually the fourth one built. It is an excellent example of the “Baubon trace system.” The Old Town Clock was another of the Duke of Kent’s ideas that has endured through the ages. Standing on the slope of the hill overlooking the harbor it has logged the hours of peace, anguish strife since 1803. On the longest day in the history of Halifax, December 6, 1917, it never faltered; lesser structures fell but not the clock. Each anguished hour was recorded in its memory.

The spiritual needs of the people were not neglected - a Church was in the original plans and one year after the settlement was founded, St. Paul’s Church opened its doors to anyone who wished to enter and many did. All colors and creed were welcome. Its historic background makes it Canada’s oldest Protestant church and the first to hold ecumenical services. A dozen slaves were baptized at one service. Sermons in the Mic Mac Indian tongue, in English, German and French were spoken within its walls. Facing the Grand Parade, it was often referred to as “the Westminster Abbey of the New World” by its English sponsors. It is of Royal Foundation and Exempt Jurisdiction. Many famous people rest in tombs beneath its foundation. The original oak frame was brought from Boston and the cost British treasury 1000 pounds. To serve the spiritual needs of people many other great churches were soon to appear. St. Paul’s holds the distinction of being the oldest church and the only one that was considered safe to hold services in after the Explosion of 1917.

Since the Duke of Kent played such an important part in the history of Halifax, I will have to mention his last gift to the city: St. George’s Church of England on Brunswick St. It was strictly a “Round Church”; later a chancel was added and a square vestibule placed on the front. The cornerstone was laid April10, 1800, and completed 15 months later. Unfortunately the Duke had sailed for home before it opened its doors. It was a very popular place to worship for sailors who liked to sit on the circular bench high under its dome, they could look down at the other worshipers through openings and if the preacher was “long winded” they became noisy and he no doubt got the message.

Halifax had a number of hospitals; Victoria General dates back to 1844 but was not until 1859 that the first building was completed. It was known then as the City Hospital. In my childhood I heard many stories of “happenings” there. The one I liked best concerned my great grandmother. Her sister was a nurse and worked there so me great grandmother decided she would like to work there also. She began in the kitchen but when a “flu epidemic” sent a doctor seeking help from the kitchen, she became a nurse and never went back to the kitchen. Later, she met my English great grandfather there and when ill health forced her to give up her nursing career, he took her around the world on a honeymoon. Other hospitals soon followed. The Children’s Hospital and the Grace Maternity still exist today.

Its excellent harbor made Halifax a place of importance in world trade. During the war of 1812, Halifax prospered. “Never were times as good in Halifax as when N.S. privateers brought its prizes at its wharves and laid the foundations of the fortunes of Collins, Cunard and others.” The first banking system in Canada started as a result of the War of 1812. Up to that time, barter was the system used. The Bank of Montreal was founded on 1817, the Bank of Upper Canada in 1818, The Bank of Canada in 1818, the Bank of N.B. in 1820, the second Bank of Upper Canada in 1821, the Halifax Banking Company in 1825 and the Bank of N.S. in 1832. The first and last mentioned are the only two in existence today. The “army bills” issued in 1812 were the first paper money and the forerunner of our money today. Halifax had many “firsts”. Here, the first newspaper in Canada was published March 23, 1752, the Halifax Gazette by John Bushnell, printed by Robert Fletcher, was published in 1766. The first magazine in Canada was published here in 1789, “T he N.S. Magazine and Comprehensive Review of Literature, Politics and News”.

I mention these things because they provide the economical and cultural background that we take for granted today.

Figure 3 Map Halifax Harbour

By 1901 the population was well over 40,000 and growing. In 1905 drastic changes were to take place. Great Britain decided that Halifax could now stand on her own. Friendly relations had again been established with the U.S.A. and, for the first time in its history, Halifax became the exclusive responsibility of the Dominion of Canada. The British regular troops and the Navy squadron were recalled and Admiralty House was closed. For a short period in its history things were at “loose ends”, but gradually the people decided that they could live and enjoy prosperity without their “Babysitter”. They still had their natural resources and with their accumulated wealth the businessmen of Halifax continued to prosper.

Halifax sent vessels to bring back bodies for burial after the sinking of the Titanic in 1912. The Marconi wireless gave the world the news of this tragedy. The bodies were brought back and buried in nameless graves in Fairview Cemetery. This was very sad but when five years later disaster struck home people recall this event and wished they had been kinder.

In August, 1914, the Great War started and Halifax became the focal point of the Maritimes. With its natural harbor it became a haven for hundreds of ships, especially those from neutral countries. Bedford Basin was the examination ground for all shipping that wished to be convoyed.

At the outbreak of the war, in accord with the usual British practice, the army took over the fixed-artillery defenses at the Halifax base, which were in good condition. The approaches to the harbor were well covered by powerful lights. An examination service went into force at midnight of August 1-2, 1914, and a port war signal station was established at Camperdown where there was also a wireless station. The blocking of the eastern passage by means of schooners was a failure, and a barrier was therefore made by means of a line of piles driven across the channel. During a large part of the war minesweeping service was maintained. An anti-submarine net defense was laid across the harbor entrance in 1917, and mine nets were added the following year. The weak point in the defenses lay in the lack of destroyers, and throughout most of the war of submarines also. In addition to the duties implied above, the naval authorities at Halifax were responsible for operating the patrol vessels which were based there, regulating the traffic inside the harbor, assembling and organizing convoys and routing merchant ships proceeding overseas independently, the handling of troop transports, certain services connected with defensively armed merchant ships as such, collecting and distributing naval Intelligence, and for contraband control.

Halifax was one of the many ports at the disposal of the Admiralty, into which neutral ships were sent to be searched for contraband. At one time during the war more than 80 neutral vessels were anchored in Halifax harbor awaiting examination of their cargoes. In addition, to H.M.C.S. Niobe, many Commonwealth cruisers and other warships use to base at various times. Among these was the distinguished Australian cruiser Sydney, and H.M.C.S. Melbourne which brought a German-owned prize to Halifax. In the course of the war, repair facilities at the base were not always equal to the demands made upon them.

The Halifax Militia battalion composed of the 63rd Halifax Rifles and 66th Princess Louise Fusiliers played an active part in its defense. Other blockhouses and trenches were constructed at MacNabs’ Island to guard the waterfront and town itself; a force of various militia units known as the composite Battalion was stationed at Wellington Barracks.

Halifax’s population grew overnight since it was the official embarkation centre for troops bound for overseas. Prisoners of war also found their way to Halifax. Existing barracks were no longer sufficient so huts were hastily put up in every conceivable place. The entire north common was covered and only the small area around Camp Hill was kept clear. A barbed-wire fence isolated them from the rest of the world, giving them a feeling of confinement, and a few soldiers waiting there did not long to be sent “overseas”. Too many people, Halifax was home, but to the service men it was “the hole”, among other not very complimentary names. In spite of all that has been said about the “vice” that existed at this time, I could find little to substantiate this. True, entertainment was a problem. A Y.M.C.A. recreation hut was built on Barrington St. opposite Government House but with over 150 liquor wholesalers and retailers in Halifax it is not surprising those things got out of hand. Sometimes troops had to wait for weeks for a convoy overseas so “boredom” was often their worst enemy. The ones who drank excessively were neither the privates nor the sailors with their thin purses, but they received most of the blame because they were around.

A private’s pay in 1914 was $182.00 annually plus $300.00 allowance and an increase of $54.00. A Colonel received pay of $2400.00, an allowance of $887.00, and an increase of $627.00. Finally, a group of people who felt that their troops had been corrupted by the sale of liquor persuaded the provincial government to prohibit its sale. However, this did not help matters. Bootleggers appeared overnight like mushrooms and often sold brew not fit for human consumption.

In 1911, the population was 46,619; in 1917 it was anyone’s guess. Popular figures quote “55,000″, while others say it was nearer 60,000. Halifax was a crowded city. Everyone was so busy with the “war effort” no one had time to consider the “city” itself. Streets were narrow, cars were few; horses were the chief mode of transportation. The garrison transports had been drawn by horses; a few years later they were completely motorized.

Nova Scotia had the highest enlistment record of any other province in Canada and all troops passed through the port of Halifax. A port that in 1913 handled 2 million tons of shipping increased its business by 17 million in 1917.

Another problem arose when returning soldiers had to be billeted. The Old Soldiers’ Hospital on Gottingen St. was overcrowded so a new white stucco hospital was erected on Camp Hill in 1917.

This, then, is a brief glimpse of Halifax to 1917.