MORE REMINISCENCES

By

META SCHOOLEY LAWS

              One’s thoughts go back some forty years (1886). Welland had a model school then. The building is now occupied by the Y.M.C.A.

             Robert Grant was the principal. Miss Jessie Foster was one assistant. Miss Jennie Foster another and the third was a Miss Ryan. All that I recollect about her was the manner in which each little boy and girl bobbed his or her head as each formerly bade her “good-night.”

             There was a little school on the West main street, just opposite the old high school where Principal Dunn still ruled supreme.

             There was, too, a little one-roomed school in the garden ward. The Presbyterian Church was over there then also-a small old building. J.W. Rae who immediately preceded the Reverend Findlay McCuaig was the minister. The Salvation Army had just come to the little town.

             There was no resident R.C. priest. The “new” Methodist Church had been recently built.

             Only a few of the people so familiar then remain when we visit the church occasionally now, and most of those, like the writer, are grey-haired. One scarcely realizes it, but 40 years have passed since then.

             H.A. Rose and The Ross Co., and “The Golden Lion” were Welland’s dry goods emporiums, and The Morwood Co. had a general business. It seems to me that some of the grocers used to give credit slips to the farmers’ wives for their produce, which were good at the dry goods stores. There was no regular market, and the farm women took “trade” for butter and eggs.

             Such a thing as a creamery was unheard of, though of course, there were cheese factories, one at Welland.

Long after that we attended picnics in “Asher’s grove” which should have been but is not, a city park.

But these were not the things of which we intended to write.

             Recently the Premier of Canada came to Welland.

             Of course, he was accorded an enthusiastic reception, but there was not the enthusiasm that met the great Tory Chieftain, who visited Welland 40 years ago, Sir John A MacDonald. He came by special train and was met at the G.T.R. station, the old one, by the best cab in town drawn by four horses. Sir John was accompanied by Sir Geo. Foster and one other of the cabinet, and these and one man specially honored, for people honored public men then with a capital “H,” seated themselves in the carriage and started. But that was the Welland of past days, and East Main street was not paved. The mud reached the hubs of the carriage. The shouting multitude frightened the horses. They jumped, and lo, they wore free from the carriage. But that didn’t matter. A long rope was found and attached to the front axle and a dozen of willing hands grasped it, and regardless of the fact that they wore their “Sunday clothes” and the mud was deep and sticky, oh, so sticky, the carriage was drawn to the hotel.

             The meeting was held in the old rink on East Main, afterward a canning factory, now removed for more imposing if less historic building.

             Long before six, the street was thronged. We, twenty or more girls, got up through one of the stores, and found perhaps two or three hundred there. By and by a great shout announced Sir John’s arrival. After he and his suite were seated, the big front door opened, and a veritable wave of humanity filled the hall in much less time than one could tell it.

             Miss Addie Teskey, her white dress trimmed with maple leaves, presented the Chieftain with a huge bouquet.

             In thanking her, Sir John expressed his hope that one day the women would have a real place in political life-40 years ago.

             Why is it that no one since his time has ever possessed so fully the hearts of the people?

             Is the difference with the people or the leaders? Upon whom has his mantle fallen? We look around in vain, for to him, dear as was his party, Canada was infinitely greater, and we knew it.

             Some day, some time, perhaps his like will arise, but not yet-not yet.

The Welland Tribune and Telegraph

25 November 1926