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George Putman, postmaster at Boyle, contemplates moving to Welland town, to engage at his trade, shoemaking. The people of his section fear that his leaving may cause Boyle postoffice to be closed up, t least temporarily.
Men Make a Business of Searching for Bodies
Thrilling Moments in the Awful Swirl of the Waters-How the Brave Men do their Work.
[People’s Press, 27 December 1898]
[The following much of which will be news to our readers of Niagara Falls, we clip from a U.S. exchange. How true the old saying-“Go way from home to learn the news.”]
There are men at Niagara Falls who make a business of searching for dead bodies of victims of the ruthless waters. They are thus described in an article in an American paper:
The men who follow this weird call are almost the only inhabitants of the lonely and mysterious section of the shore known as the “Unknown Niagara.” It is a wild stretch that lies at the base of perpendicular rocks, and at whose feet the waters that whirl and whirl eternally, that have never ceased for a single moment, never calm, and where the debris and the wrecks of life have been known to float around for days, and even weeks, with that same continuous, monotonous rotary motion. This sketch is somewhere just below the whirlpool proper on the Canadian side, and few and hardy are the tourists that venture down those Alpine sides to taste the
WILDNESS AND GRANDEUR
of the spot. It is here, however, that this curious class of men, with their few hardy wives, live from day to day, dulled to the fearful roar of the water, and but little impressed by the spectacle about them. Here they lie in wait, and watch the turbulent tides like hawks or eagles watching for their prey, and no upheaval, no relic of tragedy, nothing vomited up by the submarine eddies of that unrestful stream ever escapes their eager attention.
By a system of daring on their own, by a series of evolutions by which they have long studied to laugh and mock at death, they enter the very clutches of that grim element and bring out entire the thing for which they entered. It may prove to be log worth nothing, or it may prove to be a body laden with wealth. But whatever it is they grasp it, and back again they leap through the buffetings of death and upon the shores where the perpendicular rocks rise sheer to the skies.
HOW IT IS DONE
And this is how they do their work, what they have done for years, and will continue to do, and think nothing of the awful daring of the thing and the fearful risk they run in the weirdest of all callings:
One man, bolder and more daring than the rest, stands ready on the shore with the stoutest of ropes about his breast, waist and portion of his limbs, and so arranges as not to interfere with his movements when he takes the leap into the whirlpool. And that leap! Those who have seen him say they hold their breath and their hearts beat as he disappears beneath the raging surface. Seven strong men hold that rope, away-in shore, and then when he rises, to be tossed and buffeted about, they take a double grip and shut their teeth. More than once, the rope strains and every face is anxious and pain is plainly visible in the features until the swimmer is seen above the surface again. And when he appears again it is only for a moment, and the face is white a gasping, but even then plainly showing the grit of this strange race, as they might be called, who hazard life and all in this weird way.
But for the object which they are striving. It has been seen by the man on the lookout but a few minutes before the swimmer took the leap. He has indicated in what part of the whirlpool, and the swimmer is now
IN THE SAME CURRENT
in the same eddy, and finally the two bodies –the warm and the cold, the pulsating and the lifeless, the quick and the dead, life grapples death, and the two are hauled in. It is a long and strong pull, a pull altogether, and with a shout the daring swimmer is strained away up on shore and out of the rapid whirl.
Then the bold-swimmer man that he is-faints, and a drink of whiskey is brought. It is poured down his throat, and he quickly recovers, When he is able to move about, in a moment or two, he is the most active in the work of preparing the remains for inspection. The body is then put in shape for the reception of relatives, and if that of a rich man, the daring rescuers are made the recipients of a handsome compensation. It may be a body laden with treasure-rings of value, costly jewels, of money in dank soggy wallets and if no one calls, the money is held awhile, and then divided.
[Welland Tribune, 22 March 1898]
Another old resident, in the person of David Robertson, passed away on Thursday last. He was born at Kirkwell, Orkney Islands, in 1813. In 1844 he emigrated to New York, where he remained for four years, coming to Thorold in 1848. He was stone-cutter by trade, and worked here till 1866, when he left for the gold fields of British Columbia. He returned home fifteen years ago, and has resided here ever since. He leaves a widow, one daughter and three sons. The funeral took place on Saturday afternoon, Rev. W.A. Cook officiating. The pall-bearers were: Geo. Gray, James Weeks, Chas. Madill, Geo. Darker , Jno. H. Wilson, James Millar.
St. Anns News
[Welland Tribune, 11 March 1898]
Friday morning brought a telegraph dispatch to E. Freas of this place, stating that his son Edgar had been killed at the Falls; later news gave the particulars to the effect that he was working on the new bridge under construction at the place as rigger of ropes and pullies to draw up timber for false works, and climbing a rope, when about 75 ft. from the ground, he lost his hold and was dashed on the rocks below.
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[Welland Tribune, 4 March 1898]
(Letter from Miss Stone)
LOS ANGELES, Cal., Feb 14, 1898.
EDITOR TRIBUNE :
DEAR SIR, — In response to requests from home friends to send another letter for publication, I shall jot down a few facts gleaned concerning this wonderful country. I have been enjoying a pleasant visit with friends at Perris, a town of about 500 inhabitants, situated in San Jacinto Valley, 50 miles inland from the coast. The visitor is amazed when told that this town has sprung up within the last five years, that being the date that water was piped in from Bear Valley in San Bernardino Mountains, 40 miles to the north. The old saying, “as free as water,” means little to the people of this valley, as their water rates are very high, and the insufficiency of water has greatly retarded the growth of this section. The climate is all that could be desired, as it escapes the ocean fogs by its distance from the coast, while its elevation of 1,400 feet renders it specially favorable for those who are affected with the throat and lung troubles. It was my privilege to attend a convention of Christian workers at Redlands, in a town 26 miles to the north. The gathering was one of great spiritual life and power, but the visitor was struck with the number of invalids among the speakers and others taking part in the services. On enquiry we learned that it was comprised largely of many of the most brilliant and cultured minds the eastern and middle states produce, but failing health had made it necessary for them to seek a warmer and more congenial clime in which to recuperate. All these requisites are found herein these valleys. It is like a great sanitarium provided by the loving mother heart of nature for her afflicted children, this beautiful valley, nestled in here among the foothills, while the majestic mountains with their snow-clapped summits, stand like giant sentinels on duty, warding off attacks from every point of danger.
When you visit Southern California, do not fail to visit Redlands, and do not fail to take a drive to “Smiley Heights,” which has been so enthusiastically called “The Italy of America” this charming spot is owned by two brothers, who left their New England home 25 years ago to make a home for themselves in the barren waste where the picturesque town of Redlands now stands. They selected the highest point. The writer was privileged to enjoy a drive through the parks surrounding their homes. We pass along terraced driveways, on every side a profusion of flowers and rare shrubbery, onward and upward a gradual ascent. Now we come to an acute angle in the road, revealing new beauties to the scene. There are miles of solid masonry on either side, as a protection from the freshets caused by snow melting on the mountains. At length the “Enchanted Palaces” are reached. Just stop and feast your eyes on the surroundings. Flowers, flowers, everywhere. This is the winter home of the Smiley brothers. During the summer months they superintend a large hotel in the Adirondacks. They are Quakers, with decided temperance principles. Recently some of their boarders called for a choice brand of liquors, but were informed that no intoxicants should be used at the house, upon which guests said that if their requests were not granted they would use all possible means to make the hotel unpopular. Result – the Smiley house lost none of its patronage, but was kept open after all others had been closed for the season. In your visit to this state do not miss a visit to “Smiley Heights,” and you will be convinced that these are veritable smiling heights, and show what generous, public-spirited citizens, with money, by applying art and science, work and water, can make out of these apparently arid foot hills.
Just now I am down near the grand old ocean. Will you stroll with me along the beach, gather shells and mosses, or clamber over the rocks. Sit here and watch the long lazy roll of the water, as one after another the swells follow each other and break in white ruffles along the clean sand, graciously submitting to that old, old edict : “Hitherto shalt thou come but no further.” How puny and insignificant seems all human strength in the face of 8000 miles of fathomless water! Someone asks: “Are you not homesick to see the “beautiful” falling in feathery wreaths and mantling mother earth in her snow white garb.” In fancy I can hear the wind whistling, snow storms raging, fell my ears tingling with cold, frost-bitten feet and other comforts (?) of Welland county in winter. I much prefer these beautiful marechal neil roses for snowballs, or if you wish something more substantial, just reach your hand out of the open window where I am sitting (mercury at 70aaa) and help yourself to the ripe golden oranges—preferable to some of us.
M. E. STONE.
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Niagara Falls Centre
[Welland Tribune, 4 March 1898]
We sincerely regret the death of John Bender, Esq., on the 28th ult., at the residence of his brother, Major Hiram Bender, at the Clifton hill, Falls Centre. His illness was short. On the day before his death he intimated to his relatives that he was ill and might not live many hours. Not until early next day was any serious apprehension felt. His medical attendant, Dr. McGarry, remained closely by him, but could not allay the progress of the complaint. Death occurred at 4 p. m. on the 28th (Monday last). The shock to his friends and relatives is very painful, and gloom is felt over the whole neighborhood. Mr. Bender was about 53 years of age, was the youngest son of the late Philip Bender of a family of ten. Two sons – Major Bender and Philip Bender, and four daughters – Mrs. Redpath, Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Biggar and Janie, survive. It was only a week before that several of the Bender family first named took part in celebrating the 100th birthday of their uncle. Adam Misener, of Troy, in Beverley township, Ontario. The funeral yesterday was very large, prominent residents from many parts of the country being present to show their esteem for Mr. Bender and their sympathy with those who mourn.
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Port Colborne News
[Welland Tribune, 18 March 1898]
William Ahearn, son of the late James Ahearn, died on Sunday morning last after a lingering illness of asthma and consumption, deeply mourned by his widowed mother and brothers and sisters. The remains were interred at the R.C. cemetery on Wednesday morning at 9.30, Rev. Father Trayling conducting the service, and the following –named acting as pallbearers: John Shickluna, Harry Dunlap, John White, H. Woods, Thos. Hayden and Ed Bradley. Deceased had always been in delicate health, and for the last year had been confined to the house, death coming shortly after the midnight hour on Saturday. Every care and great sympathy have been extended to the suffering young man and family, and the expenses of the funeral will be defrayed by the fund raised at the late benefit entertainment, so kindly instituted and successfully carried out by the young men’s social club.
[Welland Tribune, 4 March 1898]
Number in the Home, 50.
John Templar, better known as “Little Johnney,” died on Friday last from dropsy. He was admitted to the Home in November, 1888, from Thorold township, and was 49 years of age when he died. By permission of the Inspector of Anatomy, C. Ramey, the remains were interred in the Home burial ground on Sunday, Rev. W.H. Swayze conducting the service.
Boyle News
[Welland Tribune, 18 March 1898]
It is our sad duty this week to record the death of Ezra Gee, son of Ezra Gee. Deceased who was 22 years of age was an exemplary young man, and his demise has cast a gloom over the whole community. He had never complained of being unwell until lately, and then his illness was not considered serious, and he was soon around again as usual. His father induced him to consult a doctor, and upon consulting Doctor Green he immediately pronounced some internal trouble, and that an operation would be necessary. Drs. Greenwood and Green performed an operation on Sunday, would have been successful in removing the cause but on further examination it was found that his liver was literally covered with cancers. They immediately informed the members of the family that there was no hope for him, and they, after a short time, made it known to him. He did not seem much surprised, and immediately cast all on Jesus, whose cause he espoused years before, and who had helped him over life’s stormy way thus far. He desired to see all his friends and from Sunday until Friday over a hundred visited him. His theme was the salvation of souls, and a glorious one it was. He preached, prayed and exhorted and asked many of his young friends to meet him in heaven. The Rev. Mr. Honey, on the day of deceased’s funeral, remarked such faith in Christ and such contentment in passing over Jordan, and were never noticed by him before.
The funeral was held on Sunday, 13th inst., services in Centenary church, interment in Lane’s cemetery. Rev. Mr. Backus preached the sermon and eulogized the deceased’s work while here. Knowing he had been a constant member of the U.B. church, here for some years. The remains were carried to the grave by six of his intimate friends. George Reece
Daniel Honsburger and Mrs. Emerson
[Welland Tribune, 18 February 1898]
We regret this week to announce the death of two of our earliest settlers, that of Daniel Honsburger and Mrs. John Emerson, both of Dilts Road. The former had been ill for a year or more and bore his illness to the last with great patience. He was a man very much admired and was in politics a Liberal, and we lose by his death a man that was not only a kind father, but a very friendly neighbor in every respect. All will join in sympathy with the bereaved. He leaves to mourn his loss four daughters, Mary and Harriet of Buffalo, and Mrs. Poland and Mrs. Smith of this vicinity, and two sons, Joseph, who is on the homestead, and John, who is situated on a farm near the homestead. The other death that of Mrs. Emerson, was caused by that dreadful disease consumption. Mrs. Emerson had been sick for a long time, and everything that could possibly be done was done to rid her of that dreadful disease. She not long ago made an extended visit to one of her sons in the far South, but on returning she found her visit to no avail, and when she was told that she had but a few days to live she said that if it were the Lord’s will to call her home that she was prepared to go. She was a person very much esteemed and was a member of the U. B. church for years. She leaves to mourn her seven sons and two daughters and a kind husband, also a number of grandchildren. The bereaved have the heartfelt sympathy of the community
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