GUARDING THE CITY BEAUTIFUL: LIBERALISM, EMPIRE, LABOUR,

AND CIVIC IDENTITY IN HAMILTON, ONTARIO, 1929-53

By

Allison Marie Ward

A thesis submitted to the Department of History

In conformity with the requirements for

the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Queen’s University

Kingston, Ontario, Canada

(July, 2014)

Copyright ©Allison Marie Ward, 2014

ii

Abstract

Hamilton, Ontario has provided a testing ground for social historians exploring questions about

labour, working-class conflict, and shop-floor politics. These studies, though extensive, have largely

overlooked the political culture of the city, especially outside these boundaries. Despite the hopes of its

left-wing political parties, mid-twentieth century Hamilton fostered a flourishing political culture centred

on the rhetoric of traditional liberalism. This political rhetoric was nurtured by the dominant Conservative

Party politicians, the traditional trades and crafts-based union movement, a growing middle class, and

fervent boosters. This political tradition was strongly informed by the shared British heritage touted by

these same groups. These ideals were flexible and mutable, which allowed them to be adopted with

versatility as the political climate demanded. This dissertation examines how this political culture

survived through decades of economic, social, and labour unrest between 1929 and 1953. Through

focusing on municipal government and local politics, this dissertation is able to explore how these

political ideals were incorporated in practice, and repeated and reformed in the city’s many elections. This

exploration incorporates questions about how these political ideals responded to the inclusion of women,

immigrants, and the growing labour movement. It also traces how these values were adapted to suit the

political climate of the Great Depression, Second World War, and the post-1946 labour crises that rocked

the city’s industries and shaped collective bargaining practice across the country.

iii

Acknowledgements

While writing a dissertation may at times feel like a solitary undertaking, this dissertation was

supported by a large community who made its completion possible. I am so grateful to these individuals,

and would like to offer these acknowledgments as my small way of showing that gratitude.

I would first like to thank my supervisor, Ian McKay. This dissertation owes so much to his input,

feedback, and thoroughness. His vast historiographical knowledge was matched by his curiosity, which

combined to guide me to new avenues of investigation. Ian’s timely and thorough feedback always

amazed me. The promptness of his responses and feedback was truly exceptional and is so much

appreciated. I am also extremely grateful to Rosanne Currarino and Jane Errington, who have provided

me with so much support over the last five years. Rosanne provided a listening ear for my many musings,

and academic and professional quandaries. Her involvement from this project’s early stages exposed me

to new perspectives on my work. Jane has opened her office door and her home to so many students, but

makes all of us feel valued. This rare trait warmed all of my Kingston winters. Her ongoing support and

insight throughout my time at Queen’s were invaluable. I would also like to thank the rest of my

examining committee: Sharon Cook, Peter Goheen, and Susan Lord. Their critical insights helped me

clarify my thoughts on this topic. Any mistakes in this dissertation are, of course, entirely my own.

I am grateful to all the professors at Queen’s and McMaster who guided my interest in History. In

particular I would like to thank Tracy McDonald, who pushed me to work harder in her seminar and to

think of history in a broader context. Her guidance was so important to how my academic career

progressed. I would also like to thank Ana Siljak who supervised my Master’s research project and

continues to provide professional guidance to me well after its completion.

This dissertation was made possible by the financial support of the Ontario Graduate

Scholarships, the Engler Dissertation Fellowship, the Women’s Canadian Historical Society of Toronto,

the Arthur and Evelyn Lower Graduate Fellowship, and Queen’s University. I was helped by the staff at

the William Ready Division of Archives and Research Collections at McMaster University, the Local

iv

History and Archives Division at Hamilton Public Library’s Central Branch, the United Church of

Canada Archives, the Archives of Ontario, Library and Archives Canada, and the staff at all of Queen’s

University’s libraries and archives, but especially Marcia Weese who fixed the microfilm machines on an

almost daily basis but always had a smile on her face. Earlier versions of this work were presented at a

number of conferences. I would like to thank the panel chairs and audiences at the Canadian Historical

Association Annual Meeting, the Society of American City and Regional Planning History’s National

Conference on Planning History, the Milton Plesur Graduate History Conference, and multiple McGill-

Queen’s Graduate History Conferences.

So many friends and family have contributed to this dissertation by listening and showing

interest, it is difficult to list them all. First of all, I would like to thank Anneka Holden, Ashley Mercer,

Jennifer Moule, Daisy Liu, and Monica booth. Their friendships for nearly fifteen years of my life (and in

Anneka’s case nearly twenty-five) have provided me with an amazing support network. Even though we

are now spread across the globe, they have always supported my work, comforted me in times of need,

and been amazingly patient. Erin Scott, Lauren McCauley, Andrew Richardson, and Kaitlyn Kinsella

joined my life at McMaster and became wonderful additions to my circles of friends. My roommates in

Kingston, Emily Kakouris, Melissa La Porte, and Lara Fullenwieder, supported me on a daily basis,

laughed with me about life’s small things, and did not complain about the ever-growing piles of paper,

which would have been well within their rights. My colleagues at Queen’s served as intellectual sounding

boards, but most importantly friends. Christine Elie, Angela Duffett, Georgia Carley, Briana Broderick,

Kendall Garton, Christo Aivalis, Brittney Bos, Tabitha Renaud, Marisha Caswell, Deanne van Tol, Lorne

Beswick, Kailey Miller, and Patrick Corbeil all know more about Hamilton than they ever wanted to

before they met me. Mary Chaktsiris, Peter Price, Samantha Sandassie, Leigh-Ann Coffey, and Sarah

Waurechen provided me with just the right mix of advice, guidance, sympathy, and sarcasm.

My final thanks must go to my biggest supporters. I owe my family an enormous debt, shaping

my life in all facets. Adam and Meaghan Ward kept me grounded and reminded me that they would love

v

me, doctorate or not. My parents’ unfailing love and support have been immensely meaningful to me as I

completed this project and throughout my life. They have always given me everything they could, and

allowed me to pursue my dreams. They can never understand how much their guidance and love will

always mean to me. They have raised me to appreciate all of their best traits, and shaped me into the

person I am. Lastly, I would like to thank my grandmother, Colleen Kennedy. Even though she is no

longer with us, I will always remember her good sense of humour, her way with words, and her feisty

stubbornness, which inspired me to try for anything I wanted, no matter how intimidating.

vi

Table of Contents

Abstract ......................................................................................................................................................... ii

Acknowledgements ...................................................................................................................................... iii

List of Figures ............................................................................................................................................. vii

List of Abbreviations ................................................................................................................................. viii

Chapter 1: Introduction: A Tale of Two Cities ............................................................................................. 1

Chapter 2: Hamilton in 1929: Building the City Prosperous and Beautiful ................................................ 25

Chapter 3: “A Sincere… and… Successful Leader in the Cause of Social Reform”: Labourism, the

Independent Labour Party, and the Conservative Political Order in Hamilton Civic Politics .................... 48

Chapter 4: “Keeping Up a Progressive Programme”: Sam Lawrence, the Co-operative Commonwealth

Federation, and the Splintering of Hamilton’s Left-Wing Political Movements ........................................ 89

Chapter 5: “[Coming] Home Again to be Replenished with Mother’s Ideals”: Women’s Roles in the

Public Sphere, Politics, and Personal Activism During the Great Depression ......................................... 127

Chapter 6: Making the Past, Fearing the Future: Empire, Immigration and the “Other” in an Age of

Anxiety ...................................................................................................................................................... 176

Chapter 7: Labour, Industry and Prosperity in the Second World War: Working Hard on the Home Front

or a Second Battlefield? ............................................................................................................................ 218

Chapter 8: Heating up the Hamilton Summer: Post-War Optimism and the 1946 Strikes ....................... 245

Chapter 9: A City in Turmoil: Hamilton’s Tenuous Reconciliation to Post-war Profit and Conservatively

Progressive Reforms ................................................................................................................................. 297

Conclusion ................................................................................................................................................ 331

Bibliography ............................................................................................................................................. 337

Appendix A: Maps .................................................................................................................................... 356

Appendix B: Tables .................................................................................................................................. 359

vii

List of Figures

Figure 1: Current photograph, former Bank of Montreal Building ............................................................ 43

Figure 2: Current photograph of the Pigott Building .................................................................................. 45

Figure 3: Lawrence (right), during his time as mayor, pictured with then Governor General Viscount

Alexander (left), inspecting the troops during the Hamilton centennial ..................................................... 90

Figure 4: Current photograph of the decorative cornices on the high-level bridge and their empty statue

niches .......................................................................................................................................................... 98

Figure 5: Nora-Frances Henderson (1897-1949) photographed at home ................................................. 139

Figure 6: Current photograph of the United Empire Loyalist family statue ............................................. 188

Figure 7: Current photograph of Dundurn Castle as viewed from its front entrance ................................ 190

Figure 8: Current photograph of Dundurn Castle as viewed from its back lawn ...................................... 190

Figure 9: The Eaton's of Hamilton float in the centennial parade, featuring a large birthday cake and

women in hoop skirts ................................................................................................................................ 253

Figure 10: Eaton's Employees after the parade in historical costumes ..................................................... 254

Figure 11: The "Indian Village" set up for the centennial celebrations as part of the “National Section” 256

Figure 12: Three Dutch girls in their national costumes after the National Section displays ................... 256

Figure 13: The Greek float in the National Section of the centennial parade.. ......................................... 257

Figure 14: The Stelco float in the centennial parade................................................................................. 260

Figure 15: Henderson, centre in flowered hat, crosses the ITU local 129 picket lines ............................ 282

Figure 16: Helen Anderson on election day .............................................................................................. 292

Figure 17: Lloyd D. Jackson pictured with his wife, Susan, upon his election ........................................ 307

Figure 18: CUPE local 5 strikers on the picket line .................................................................................. 316

viii

List of Abbreviations

AofO Archives of Ontario, York University, Toronto, Ontario

AFL American-Federation of Labour

ATW Amalgamated Transit Workers

CCF Cooperative Commonwealth Federation

CCL Canadian Congress of Labour

CIO Congress of Industrial Organizations

CLDL Canadian Labor Defence League

CMA Canadian Manufacturers’ Association

CPC Communist Party of Canada

CUPE Canadian Union of Public Employees

HADC Hamilton Auxiliary Defence Corps

HDLC Hamilton District Labour Council

HPL Local History and Archives Department, Hamilton Public Library, Hamilton, Ontario

HRCH Historical Records of the City of Hamilton

IAM International Association of Machinists

IBEW International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers

ILP Independent Labor Party

IODE Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire

IPAU International Pressmen’s and Assistants Union

LAC Library and Archives Canada, Ottawa, Ontario

LPP Labour Progressive Party

NFB National Film Board of Canada

OPP Ontario Provincial Police

PPSH Planned Parenthood Society of Hamilton

QUA Queen’s University Archives, Kingston, Ontario

RCMP Royal Canadian Mounted Police

Stelco Steel Company of Canada

SWOC Steel Workers Organizing Committee

TFRBL Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario

TLC Trades and Labour Council

UCCA United Church of Canada Archives, Toronto, Ontario

UEL United Empire Loyalist

UEW United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers

UFLTA Ukrainian Labour Farmer Temple Association

URWA United Rubber Workers of America

USWA United Steelworkers of America

VON Victorian Order of Nurses

WRDARC William Ready Division of Archives and Research Collections, McMaster University,

Hamilton, Ontario

1

Chapter 1: Introduction: A Tale of Two Cities

This dissertation is about a Canadian city in the midst of decades of social and economic

change. It was, some would say, “a friendly city, a typical city in the Dominion of Canada. A city

wrought out of primitive wilderness by men of vision, faith, and courage.”1 This city was “richly

endowed by nature,” and “has been doubly blest in the possession of keen-minded men and

women who are sufficiently wide-awake to see the natural advantages of their home town.”2

“Here is a city – young, vigorous and thriving – capable of anything toward which it sets its face,

looking forward toward a rich future in promise and potential in action,” or so its mid-twentieth

century boosters proclaimed. 3 “This City looks to the future with confidence,” and, unlike others

of its size, is harmonious and unmarked by class divisions. It lived according to the motto: “Every

loyal citizen must live and labour to the best of his individual ability to make [it] a fine place in

which to live with integrity, honour, and brotherliness as his watchwords.”4 It is not blessed by a

willing population alone:

[it] has more advantages of natural beauty than any other interior city of

Canada… The variety of views… from the Mountain, the lake, the bay, the

marsh, the spectacular nature of the northwest highway entrance.... the new

Mountain road entrance from Sherman avenue, and the entrance from the Beach

and from Queenston highway all comprise such a variation of features of interest

and charm that the aggregate in one city is quite unique.5

This dissertation is about a city with a population that has a good disposition – a well-placed,

well-organized city on the brink of decades of progress.

1 Portrait of a City, directed by Earl Clark, (Montreal: Associated Screen Studios, 1946), film.

2 C.W. Kirkpatrick, Commissioner of Industries and Publicity, Hamilton, Canada: The City of Opportunity

(Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton Commission of Industry and Publicity, 1928), Industrial Commissioner’s

Records, RG-17, Historical Records of the City of Hamilton (HRCH), Local History and Archives

Department, Hamilton Public Library, Hamilton, Ontario (HPL). 3 Alexander H. Wingfield, editor, The Hamilton Centennial, 1846-1946 (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton

Centennial Committee, 1946) 5, J. Wreford Watson fonds, file 3, box 10, William Ready Division of

Archives and Special Collections, McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario (WRDARC). 4 Ibid.

5 Hamilton Spectator, “Action is Based on Common Sense,” 5 October 1929.

2

Oddly enough, it is also about a very different city, one known for “her big and warlike

strikes, her fantastic murder cases, and… her bootlegging traffic with the United States.”6 It has

become known in the historiography for its “decayed state of working conditions [showing] itself

in… large industrial strike[s]… [with] 100 years of [a] history… of the majority being exploited

in the interests of a few.”7 Many of the industries upon which its economic life was based have

since disappeared, so now one often reads of a down-on-its-luck de-industrialized city, so

depressed that it has become “self-hating” and “dismissed by the rest of the world for its coarse

ways, unwashed residents… knuckle-dragging politicians [and] its grimy industrial past.”8 When

it comes to popular opinion, a jocular postcard produced by one of the city’s art stores says it all:

“She said kiss me somewhere dirty, so we drove to Hamilton.”9

These vignettes tell the tale of the same city, Hamilton, Ontario. As John Eyles and

Walter Peace state in their examination of the city’s image over time, “There… seem to be two

related but divergent images of Hamilton – smokestack city and cultured city... In simple and

overstated terms, the first is believed while the second is not.”10

Indeed, it is difficult to reconcile

the image that Hamilton’s boosters, business men, politicians, and commemorators held of it in

the middle of the last century with current popular conceptions of the city as a place that is

decidedly down on its luck. As a child of this city, I was attuned to these images. I grew up in a

city that named its streets, parks, schools, hospitals, and office buildings after a fascinating

diversity of people. Within the city’s present-day bounds is a controversial shopping centre

named for Lloyd D. Jackson, arguably modern Hamilton’s most anti-labour mayor. This coexists

with a scenic park at the top of the Niagara Escarpment named for a self-described Marxian-

6 Eva-Lis Wuorio, “Anything Made Here,” Maclean’s Magazine, 11 July 1948.

7 Radio Transcript “Hamilton’s Real Centennial,” Hamilton Trades and Labour Council and Hamilton

Labour Council, 5 December 1946, box 116, file 9, United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers (UEW)

Local 504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 8 Christopher Hume, “Toronto and Hamilton Switch Prince-and-Pauper Roles,” Toronto Star, 23 October

2013. 9 Postcard, “She Said Kiss Me Somewhere dirty,” Mixed Media, 2014, author’s collection.

10 John Eyles and Walter Peace, “Signs and Symbols in Hamilton: An Iconology of Steeltown,”

Geographiska Annaler, Series B, Human Geography 72, No. 2/3 (1990): 73.

3

Socialist, Mayor Sam Lawrence. A downtown statue of a brave family of Loyalists fleeing their

American oppressors for the protection of the British Crown shares a street with a headless man

hanging by a hook from a wall, meant to represent an injured worker and commemorating those

killed or injured on the job, and thus often surrounded at its base by wreathes bearing the

acronyms of the city’s numerous unions.

This dissertation will challenge the common-sense idea that Hamilton was always a

straightforward labour town, one in which working-class consciousness challenged and unsettled

a unified group of capitalist overlords. Through an analysis of the political culture that evolved in

the city, and of its economic position and its citizens’ perceptions of changing social conditions, I

hope to move beyond the narrow two-class model that has defined the city’s place in popular

memory and academic history. My approach includes interrogating the ways political discussions,

especially on a municipal level and involving civic governance, evolved to accommodate changes

in the composition of its middle class, the status of labour in the city, ethnicity, and the role of

women. In this thesis, I argue for a more complicated Hamilton than is allowed for by the

dominant stereotypes. I find in Hamilton a diversity of class positions and political identities,

ones influenced by but not reducible to relationships to capital. I also find that, over time, these

class positions and political identities evolved in surprising and interesting ways.

Hamilton by the Numbers

Hamilton was initially settled in 1812 by George Hamilton, a captain of the militia in the

War of 1812. This early iteration of the town took shape according to the original layout and

location of Hamilton’s farm and included only a handful of streets assembled around three

squares.11

Over the next three decades, it grew into a small, regional trading post, mainly

important for its waterfront location. It experienced only modest growth and in 1846, although

11 Mabel Burkholder, The Story of Hamilton (Hamilton, ON: Davis-Lisson Ltd., 1938), 58-62.

4

officially made a city, it remained a comparatively small and culturally unimportant trading post

with just under 7,000 residents.12

Over the subsequent decades, the city’s excellent position for

shipping, both by rail and water, to the United States, Toronto, and much of southern Ontario

drew in industries. By the turn of the twentieth century it was home to a Westinghouse plant, the

Steel Company of Canada (Stelco), and branch plants from other mammoth corporations that

remained prominent in the city for the next century.13

These industries, especially the fast-

growing Stelco, drew in other corporations attracted by ready access to processed manufacturing

materials. As its industries grew, Hamilton’s population did as well. By 1871, it could boast

26,880 residents, a number that had doubled by 1901, and had doubled again by 1921.14

It had, by

this point, become one of the ten largest cities in the country. Immigration to the city, especially

from the British Isles, was mainly responsible for this growth, though the ongoing process of

rural-to-urban migration within Canada also helped swell the city’s numbers.

Hamilton at the end of the 1920s was in the middle of an age of expansion. The

prosperity of the 1920s had brought new industry to the city, and the population had grown along

with it, filling the jobs at these new factories. By the end of the decade, the city was home to over

500 unique producers, in 225 different industries.15

These ranged from small businesses such as

Hamilton Soaps to multi-national corporations like Canadian Westinghouse Co.16

This profusion

of manufactories put the “Made-in-Hamilton” stamp on nearly everything a person or business

could want and served as a point of pride in the 1920s.

12 Michael B. Katz, The People of Hamilton, Canada West: Family and Class in a Mid-Nineteenth Century

City (Boston: Harvard University Press, 1975), 2-3 13

Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, Canada: A City of Opportunity, 1928, Industrial Commissioner Records, RG-17,

HRCH, HPL. 14

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Population, Vol. 1 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau

of Statistics, 1934), 8. 15

Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, Canada: A City of Opportunity, 1928, Industrial Commissioner Records, RG-17,

HRCH, HPL. 16

Ibid.

5

In 1929, when I open my dissertation, Hamilton had a population of 155,547.17

The city

had nearly doubled in size during its industrial boom years, its population increasing by over

73,000 people between 1911 and 1931.18

By the 1951 census, this population had exploded again

by over a third, well surpassing the 200,000 mark at 208,321.19

This growth in population had

been accompanied by a consolidation of industry and an increasing reliance on branch plants.

While the city had 526 producers in 1951, this very slight increase over the 1928 figure was

overshadowed by the $150,000,000 plant investments in plant development and expansion from

only 50 American firms, which increasingly served as the main industries there.20

Both periods

had also seen the city’s boundaries expand, as it annexed smaller townships to the east and south,

moving up the Niagara Escarpment that bisects the current city. The wealth and geographic

stability of the city’s citizens was reflected in the ever-increasing number of home-owners. In

1921, 50.4% of Hamiltonians lived in houses their families owned; by 1961 this number reached

73.5%.21

In spite of a Depression-induced dip in numbers both nationally and locally in the 1931

and 1941 censuses, Hamilton’s home ownership was high when it is compared to other Canadian

cities.22

This change, in excess of the population increase, reflected the increasing permanence of

the city’s residents, as well as post-1945 home-ownership incentives.

17 Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Cross-Classification, Vol. 3 (Ottawa: Dominion

Bureau of Statistics, 1934), 900-912. 18

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1951: Cross-Classification, Vol. 1 (Ottawa: Dominion

Bureau of Statistics, 1953), Tables 10-1. 19

Ibid., Tables 10-1 and 35-5. 20

The Visitors and Convention Bureau of the City of Hamilton and the Chamber of Commerce, A

Panorama of Beauty and Industry (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton Visitors and Convention Bureau, 1951),

Industrial Commissioner’s Records, RG-17, HRCH, HPL. 21

See table 3 in Appendix. 22

This trend in increasing home ownership reflected growing suburbanization both nationally and locally.

Richard Harris, Creeping Conformity: How Canada Became Suburban, 1900-1960 (Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 2004), 19-30. Harris explains that home-ownership was an increasingly important ideal for

working-class urbanites. These changes demonstrated a move towards thriftiness, the desire for a private

home life, and a sense of permanence among the urban working class. Richard Harris, Unplanned Suburbs:

Toronto’s American Tragedy, 1900-1950 (Baltimore, Maryland: John Hopkins University Press, 1999),

109-140. This ideal was particularly important to recent British immigrants, for whom land and land

ownership symbolically spoke to class and class mobility. This pattern is quite unlike that of Montreal,

where urban mobility and the ability to physically move up the social ladder was valued. Over 80 per cent

6

Throughout this period, Hamilton’s population was predominantly made up of British

immigrants, both recently-arrived and long-settled. In 1931, 123,684, or 79.5%, of the city’s

citizens identified “British Races” as their racial origin.23

The remaining 31,863 census

respondents were mostly Italian, German, Polish, French (including French Canadian), Dutch,

Hebrew (a census category that included anyone Jewish, regardless of nationality), Hungarian,

Roumanian, and Ukrainian. The city also had smaller groups who among them accounted for a

further 18 “racial orgins.” These non-British populations had grown during the 1920s along with

the city’s population. By the 1950s, they had increased both in number and proportional

representation, with fewer than 70% of respondents to the 1951 census identifying as “British

Isles Origins.”24

The population of non-British immigrants primarily came from already

established groups, such as Italians, Germans, and Ukrainians.

The religious composition of the city paralleled its ethnic make-up. One-third of British-

origin Hamiltonians were Anglicans. British Hamiltonians also represented the majority of the

city’s United Church, Presbyterian, Methodist and Baptist church members.25

Nearly 30,000

Hamiltonians identified as Roman Catholic in 1931 and they were evenly split between ethnically

British people and those from other European countries. Even as the composition and politics of

the city changed, most Hamiltonians remained church-goers. The number of adherents to each

faith increased proportionally with the city’s population, with no major changes in its religious

make-up.26

of Montreal residents had leases that were for less than one year and moved often. Mary Anne Poutanen,

Sherry Olson, Raphael Fischler, and Kevin Schwartzman, “Tuberculosis in Town: Mobility of Patients in

Montreal, 1925-1950,” Histoire sociale/ Social History 42, no. 83 (Mai/May 2009): 75. 23

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Cross-Classification, 900-912. 24

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1951: Cross-Classification, 35-5. The largest growth

was seen in those not identifying a nationality. The 1921 census had seen only 281 respondents choosing

that option, but by 1951 they numbered 11,113. This data demonstrated the changing borders and

boundaries of post-Second World War Europe and also the complications created by consolidations of

ethnic categories in the 1951 census. Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1921: Population,

Vol. 1 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1924), 346. 25

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Cross-Classification, 900-912. 26

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1951: Cross-Classification, Tables 42-3.

7

Politically, Hamilton consisted of eight wards, the boundaries of which changed slightly

over time to accommodate population changes and the city’s own expansion.27

Throughout this

period, its municipal political structure included a mayor, four Board of Control members, and

sixteen councillors. This structure of governance was instituted in 1910, around the same time

such cities as London, Winnipeg, Calgary, and Vancouver adopted similar models.28

The Board

of Control was responsible for more day-to-day business decisions and with the ongoing

implementation of policies voted on at council. Councillors were able, and indeed expected, to

continue at their day jobs and were paid accordingly; city council meetings were held in the

evening and, when possible, kept to a strict time limit. Board of Control members and the mayor

were paid more. They were expected to devote their time to the running of the city and be

available on a daily basis. There were two councillors per ward, elected by their ward voters only.

Candidates for mayor and Board of Control members were drawn from across the city and were

voted on by all wards. Elections were held annually for these positions until 1954, when the city

switched to two-year-terms. Residents voted for their public school board trustees at the same

time, also by ward.29

Federally, Hamilton consisted of three ridings in 1929, Hamilton East,

Hamilton West, and Wentworth. Hamilton East and Hamilton West were largely urban, roughly

splitting the city below the Niagara Escarpment in half. Wentworth was more rural and included

the largely undeveloped area up the Escarpment, as well as the outlying regions of the city.30

27 See Appendix A: Maps.

28 John C. Weaver, Shaping the Canadian City: Essays on Urban Politics and Policy, 1890-1920 (Ottawa:

Institute of Public Administration of Canada, 1977), 52. 29

Though there were two trustees per ward, they served two-year terms and were elected in alternate years,

so usually only one seat was open per year. 30

In the words of the riding description this included “the county of Wentworth, excluding the townships of

Beverly, Ancaster, Glanford and Binbrook, together with those portions of the city of Hamilton lying east,

south and west of a line described as commencing at the intersection of Ottawa Street and the shore of

Hamilton Harbour; thence southerly along Ottawa Street to the intersection of the projection of the said

street and the south city limit; thence westerly following the south city limit along the brow of the mountain

to Sherman Avenue; thence southerly along Sherman Avenue to Concession Street; thence westerly along

Concession Street and Claremont Drive to the city limit; thence following the city limit to the intersection

of Main Street and Paradise Road; thence northerly along Paradise Road and its continuation to the city

8

Provincially the city was split into four ridings that were largely divided along the same lines as

the federal ridings, with the East and West parts of the city voting separately and the more rural

parts of the city in two of their own ridings.31

These divisions meant that the older, more

established parts of the city to the west voted separately from its expanding, more working-class

populations to the east, since workers settled near their workplaces, which were mainly located in

the city’s east end along the harbour front and railway lines.

Hamilton and Traditional Liberalism

Hamilton has often been viewed by social historians within a strict two-class model

focused on narratives of ever-growing class conflict.32

As Bryan Palmer laid out in his analysis of

Hamilton, “Class struggle and culture... are the primary concepts upon which classes themselves

arise and assume importance… [it is] certainly one purpose of this book... to address the class

experience in such a way as to force consideration of the central place of conflict and cultures.”33

While other historians such as Craig Heron and Robert Kristofferson have moved their

interrogations beyond strict questions about class and class conflict, many histories of the city

have continued to restrict their analyses to workers and the working class in the city.34

Yet by

applying to Hamilton a strict logic of class determination, one directly related to the social

limit.” “Wentworth, Ontario (1903-2003),” History of Federal Ridings since 1867, accessed 10 March

2014, http://www.parl.gc.ca/About/Parliament/FederalRidingsHistory/ hfer.asp. 31

Provincially, Wentworth was split into two ridings. The riding which contained more of Hamilton was

renamed Hamilton-Wentworth in the 1934 election, though the Wentworth riding continued to be reported

on as part of the city’s electorate. Hamilton Spectator “Preparations for Contest Under Way,” 30 April

1934. The Federal riding known as Hamilton West changed names to Hamilton Centre as well during that

election and would remain that way until a new Hamilton West riding was necessitated by population

expansion in the 1960s. 32

See Bryan Palmer, “Most Uncommon Common Men: Craft, Culture, and Conflict in a Canadian

Community, 1860-1914,” (Ph.D. Dissertation, State University of New York at Binghamton, 1977); Robert

Henry Storey, “Workers, Unions and Steel: The Shaping of the Hamilton Working Class, 1935-1948,”

(Ph.D. dissertation, University of Toronto, 1981). 33

Bryan Palmer, A Culture in Conflict: Skilled Workers and Industrial Capitalism in Hamilton Ontario,

1860-1914, (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1979), xvi. 34

Craig Heron, “Working-Class Hamilton, 1895-1930,” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Dalhousie University, 1981);

Robert Kristofferson, Craft Capitalism: Craftworkers and Early Industrialization in Hamilton, Ontario,

1840-1872., (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007); Storey, “Workers, Unions and Steel.”

9

relations of production, historians have been apt to neglect questions of politics and culture. They

have, more particularly, been inclined to overlook the middle-class professionals who, in decade

after decade, cut large figures in the city’s political life. And they have also been predisposed to

read into the workers’ history stable ideals and convictions that answer more to a priori notions

of how workers ought to think than reflect empirical evidence of how workers actually did

think.35

Examining these omitted areas of historical analysis complicates the narrative of a

Hamilton bound for revolution. It also allows for a more inclusive picture of the values that

shaped the political culture of the city and for the inclusion of ethnicity, gender, and civic life

outside the union hall.36

In spite of radical hopes and dreams, mid-twentieth century Hamilton fostered a

flourishing political culture centred on the rhetoric of traditional liberalism. This political rhetoric

was nurtured by the dominant Conservative Party politicians, a traditional trades and crafts-based

union movement, a growing middle class, and fervent boosters.37

This political tradition was

strongly informed by the shared British heritage touted by these same groups. Throughout this

period the Conservative Party, and its affiliated municipal candidates, focused on the then-

popular ideas of liberalism and a steadfast adherence to what were perceived to be traditional

political values. These political ideas included ideals such as honest and clean electioneering,

adherence to the British constitution, faith in the Empire, the belief in individualism, with

character as the essential element of one’s success or failure, and above all whole-hearted

35 Statistical evidence from the census indicates a significant growth in white-collar professions in the city

between 1911 and 1941. Where cross-classified data is available, the income gap between these employees

and all others demonstrates a noticeable rise. See Table 1. These professions were also over-represented in

city council and government, as were so-called “gentleman” politicians, whose profession often cannot be

deduced but whose decision to identify themselves as such speaks to a certain presentation of class,

respectability, and British tradition, in keeping with the theme of this dissertation. 36

Palmer acknowledges these omissions in his own work, claiming it was necessary to achieve such a

refined focus. He admits that he largely overlooks politics, the family (and along with this, more largely,

the role of gender and women in this culture), and religion. Palmer, A Culture in Conflict, 237-242. 37

Ian McKay, “The Liberal Order Framework: A Prospectus for a Reconnaissance of Canadian History,”

Canadian Historical Review 81 no. 3 (2000): 643-4.

10

devotion to the “public,” an entity that had universal, not class-based interests.38

The strongly

British ethnic make-up of the city was powerful in informing these values, which were reflected

in practice through a bevy of municipal political decisions and policies.

These liberal ideals were flexible and mutable, which allowed them to be adopted as the

political climate demanded. This flexibility allowed the city to make progressive decisions that

seemingly contradicted strict interpretations of these values. Political adaptability meant a city

politician could, almost in the same breath, demand low property taxes for the city’s property-

holders and generous support for its playgrounds. He (more rarely she) might also insist on

minimizing the city’s debt-load while also championing relief for its many unemployed. Such

values were necessarily transformed under the pressures of economic crisis in the Great

Depression, national economic management in the Second World War, and post-war labour

unrest. My reading of Hamilton as a liberal city does not exclude class, but rather, as Richard

Schneirov proposes in his work on working-class liberalism in nineteenth-century Chicago,

expands the breadth of our questions about it, well beyond the boundaries of organized unions

and labour parties.39

Through analysing class relationships to politicians outside these left-wing

groups, I will examine how one of Canada’s main political parties shaped its policies and

discussed them locally, in spite of economic and social unrest. As Schneirov suggests, any such

undertaking requires that we look beyond the results of elections to practical policy

38 Hamilton Spectator, “Mitchell Wins,” 11 August 1931. These liberal values are echoed in transnational

studies of liberalism in the political sphere. Notably Ian McKay’s recent work on the development of a

hegemonic liberal order in Canada, which includes both the more traditional forms and the reform

liberalism the 1930s, has been helpful in defining liberal interests entering this period. Hamilton’s

Conservative and labour politicians articulated and integrated into their rhetoric many of the ideas that

McKay notes were prominent among inter-war progressives, and the language of earlier liberals discussed

in his text. McKay, “The Liberal Order Framework,” 622-626, 642. For more on the role of labourism in

Hamilton, and a thorough background on the ILP’s relationship to liberalism, see Craig Heron, “Labourism

and the Canadian Working Class,” Labour/ Le Travail 13 (Spring 1984): 45-75. Additionally, Richard

Schneirov’s study of working-class liberalism in late-nineteenth century Chicago has been extremely

useful. His understanding of the appeals of liberalism to workers and its multi-faceted political meanings

has been helpful in articulating and comprehending the varied meanings of the term. Richard Schneirov,

Labor and Urban Politics: Class Conflicts and the Origins of Modern Liberalism in Chicago, 1864-1897,

(Urbana and Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 3-5, 307-316. 39

Schneirov, Labor and Urban Politics, 3-5.

11

implementation, party relationships, and informal organizing activities. Close attention to such

phenomena helps us understand how political values were received, absorbed, or in some cases

resisted.

This examination raises important questions about the voting base of the Conservative

Party within Canada during this time period - in particular, about how it evolved on a local level

and how it responded to changing political climates. While many histories have been written

about the Conservative Party of Canada’s actions as a government in power, very little research

has been carried out on voters’ reactions to the party outside the halls of power.40

Discussions

about working-class conservatism in Canada are almost entirely absent as well.41

However, the

parallels between the British Conservative Party and the Canadian Conservative Party (including

their electoral rhetoric, policies, parliamentary tactics, member composition, and identification

with Empire) are striking. The growing historiography on the British party is directly relevant to

my study of Conservative politics municipally, rather more than is the parallel case of U.S.

Republicans. Although the British and Canadian Conservative parties differed in their political

rhetoric vis-à-vis specific issues, they adopted much of the same symbolism and party rhetoric in

their public appeals. Robert McKenzie and Allan Silver’s study of the party’s appeal to the

working classes, Angels in Marble: Working Class Conservatives in Urban England, is especially

useful in its discussion of the Conservatives’ uncanny ability to reach across class lines. As Silver

and McKenzie observe, the Conservative Party created for itself a sense of tradition, historical

40 This observation on the slow development of studies of right-wing politics on the local level is noted

universally by historians on both sides of the Atlantic. Some examples of local histories of grassroots

conservative movements from the American context include: Kathleen Blee, Women of the Klan: Racism

and Gender in the 1920s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991); Robert D. Johnston, The Radical

Middle Class: Populist Democracy and the Question of Capitalism in Progressive Era Portland Oregon

(Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2003); Rebecca Klatch, A Generation Divided: the

New Left, the New Right, and the 1960s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999); Lisa McGirr,

Suburban Warriors: The Origins of the New American Right (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001). 41

Heron touches on working-class Toryism in his dissertation on Hamilton, as does Gregory Kealey in his

study of Toronto’s workers. Heron, “Working-Class Hamilton,” 492-495, 522-559, 619-631; Gregory S.

Kealey, Toronto Workers Respond to Industrial Capitalism, 1867-1892 (Toronto: University of Toronto

Press, 1991).

12

significance and continuity in its campaigns, which, rather than preserving the image of a

stagnant party, allowed “its publicists to brush aside all charges of inconsistency of doctrine or of

political opportunism.” 42

In times of national crisis, Silver and Mackenzie observe, the

Conservatives were perceived as having a good, sound sense of what the nation needed.

Importantly for this study of Hamilton’s Conservatives, this sense of continuity did not preclude

the ability to change, as noted by Barbara Storm Farr in her study of extreme right-wing

grassroots politics in Britain. Farr observes that right-wing activists were often in favour of

“dynamic progress,” and actively embraced new solutions to social and economic problems, so

long as they adhered to the “existing political situation and constitutional structure.”43

Additionally, Martin Pugh has remarked that the “Conservatives survived by conscious

adaptation… [a] process of change on the right [that] has been characteristically obscured under a

blanket of traditionalism.” 44

While Pugh sees the party as adhering to traditional notions such as

nationalism and monarchism, he notes that these values were part of a flexible approach that the

party adapted as part of a “systematic attempt to make political loyalty an integral part of the lives

of a large number of people rather than the private language of an elite.”45

Extending these discussions of traditionalism, heritage, and Britishness to a mid-

twentieth-century Canadian context has proven a useful way of interrogating the importance of

deeply-held attachments to traditional, and crucially British, liberal values. These values extended

beyond the upper classes usually associated with them. This depth of attachment is best studied

by interrogating the relationships that individuals, political parties, social organizations, and

unions had with these values. Hamilton, the “archetypal labour city,” might seem to provide a

42 Robert McKenzie and Allan Silver, Angels in Marble: Working Class Conservatives in Urban England

(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968), 19. 43

Barbara Storm Farr, The Development of Right-Wing Politics in Britain, 1903-1932 (New York:

Garland, 1987), 1, 82. 44

Martin Pugh, The Tories and the People, 1880-1935 (Oxford, United Kingdom: Basil Blackwell, 1985),

1, 42. 45

Ibid.

13

curious laboratory in which to assess the strength of such ideologies. Yet in fact, despite a

growing union movement which changed from craft to industrial modes of organizing, despite its

many ethnic groups with their various cultures, and despite the eruption of major strikes in the

1940s, the city was and remained, I argue, a bastion of conservative liberalism. In the

historiography, Hamilton the “archetypal labour city,” featured a large, class-conscious and

radical working class challenging the status quo with its own vision of a new social order.

However, I submit that Hamilton shows that this portrait is misleading. The situation in the city

was far more complex. While political and labour unrest in 1946 in Hamilton would seem to

complicate my interpretation, the restoration of social and political order in the city, albeit on a

changed basis, speaks to the importance that these values continued to hold for a large number of

its voters. Inquiry into conservative liberal thought in a labour centre promises useful insights into

the flexibility, yet permanence, of such ideals in the face of class conflict.

In order to address these questions about the social history of Hamilton’s political

structure this dissertation will examine the progression of these political ideals both topically and

chronologically. Beginning with Chapter One it will first examine the ways in which the city was

framed by its dominant political, economic, and social groups in 1929, prior to the Great

Depression. This will provide some insight into the perspectives of those in power in the 1920s, a

decade which seemed to promise ever-increasing security and opportunity, and upon which the

Conservative Party’s story of a successful and prosperous political reign later relied. Many

middle-class Hamiltonians remembered the 1920s as a decade of prosperity and order. When

many politicians from the professional classes thought about civic responsibilities vis-à-vis the

poor or, later, the city’s negotiations with its own employees, they often had somewhere in their

minds an image of this flourishing decade. Following that, Chapters Two through Five will take

apart the ways in which the political ideals of liberalism were applied and deployed well into the

Depression. Chapter Two begins with the early success of the Conservative Party and lays out the

14

values that the party upheld. It also explains the party’s success in disseminating its values. It

then examines how these values were adopted by the Independent Labor Party (ILP) in the city as

a form of “labour liberalism” in an attempt to present this working-class party as a non-radical

and politically friendly labour alternative. Chapter Three continues these themes by placing the

ILP in context with the other major left-wing option of the time, the Co-operative Commonwealth

Federation (CCF). New to the scene in the early 1930s, the CCF initially collaborated with the

ILP to obtain electoral success in the 1934 provincial election. However, this alliance collapsed

and the reactions to this split, as well as to the move toward industrial as opposed to craft unions,

demonstrate the beginning of divisions between an older generation of workers who adhered to a

more traditional liberalism and a new generation that did not.

Chapter Four examines the ways in which conservative liberalism applied to women in

Hamilton. Although by the 1930s Hamiltonian women were eligible to vote for all levels of

government, their integration into formal politics was partial. Thus this chapter opens with a

discussion of their involvement in the social organizations that occupied the time of many middle

class women. Their choice of organizations indicates the then-acceptable causes open to women,

largely those focused on the social welfare of mothers and children. This focus on causes that

emphasized a woman’s role as a wife and a mother through maternalist rhetoric offered an

acceptable entrance point for women in the slow, step-by-step expansion of women’s public

culture.46

Women’s involvement in diverse charitable works also demonstrated that gendered

interests could cross class and political lines. Through case studies of the political careers of

Nora-Frances Henderson and Agnes Sharpe, two female municipal politicians, this chapter will

46 Kathryn Kish Sklar, Florence Kelley and the Nation’s Work: The Rise of Women’s Political Culture,

1890-1900, (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1995) xii-xvi. While based in a much earlier time

and in American culture, Sklar’s description of the informal world of women’s political culture has obvious

parallels in Canada, where a similar comprehensive study of women’s political organizing is largely

missing. The role of this informal organizing has been studied in depth in Hamilton as well by Carmen

Nielson-Varty in her doctoral dissertation on the topic: Carmen Nielson-Varty, “A ‘Laudable Undertaking’:

Women, Charity and the Public Sphere in Mid-Nineteenth Century Hamilton, Canada West,” (Ph.D.

Dissertation, Queen’s University, 2004).

15

also show that it was as important for women to understand the rules of their place as women, as

it was to understand the political values that were imbedded in the electoral circles they entered.

Women’s political involvement in Canada is rarely studied beyond “great women” narratives or

questions about the suffrage movements.47

How women worked to get elected is rarely examined.

Chapter Five extends this examination of the political values of this period to questions of

race and ethnicity. Many Hamiltonians were connected to the British Empire, either through

blood, heritage, or affection, and these ties strongly influenced what was deemed politically

respectable in this period. Through discussing first how British heritage and identity were

constructed in the city and then by looking at who was excluded, how, and why, this discussion

will illuminate how the city created spaces for resistance. Communists and political radicals,

firmly identified with foreign undesirability, were singled out for political exclusion.

Chapters Six through Eight examine the ways in which the changing composition of

Hamilton’s population affected Hamilton’s political culture. Chapter Six demonstrates such

difficulties of war on the home front as housing shortages, rationing, increasing cost of living,

47 As noted by the editors of the collection Framing Our Past, this trend was common in early writing on

women’s history in general. Sharon Anne Cook, Lorna R. McLean, and Kate O’Rourke, “Introduction:

Canadian Women in the Twentieth Century,” in Framing Our Past: Canadian Women’s History in the

Twentieth Century (Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2001), xiii-xxv. Examples

include Catherine Lyle Cleverdon, The Woman Suffrage Movement in Canada, (Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 1950); Franca Iacovetta, “‘A Respectable Feminist’: The Political Career of Senator Cairine

Wilson, 1921-1962,” in Beyond the Vote: Canadian Women and Politics, Linda Kealey and Joan Sangster

eds. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1989): 63-87; Veronica Strong-Boag, The New Day Recalled:

Lives of Girls and Women in English Canada, 1919-1939 (Toronto: Copp Clark Pitman Ltd., 1988). There

has been more growth in the research on women’s role in left-wing politics. See Nancy Butler, “Mother

Russia and the Socialist Fatherland: Women and the Communist Party of Canada, 1932-1941, with specific

reference to the activism of Dorothy Livesay and Jim Watts,” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Queen’s University

2011); Janice Newton, “The Alchemy of Politicization: Socialist Women and the Early Canadian Left,” in

Gender Conflicts: New Essays in Women’s History, Franca Iacovetta and Mariana Valverde eds. (Toronto:

University of Toronto Press, 1992): 118-148; Joan Sangster, Dreams of Equality: Women On the Canadian

Left, 1920-1950 (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1989); Susan Walsh, “The Peacock and the Guinea

Hen: Political Profiles of Dorothy Gretchen Steeves and Grace MacInnis,” in The Neglected Majority:

Essays in Canadian Women’s History, Volume Two, Alison Prentice and Susan Mann Trofimenkoff eds.

(Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1985). Women in Conservative and conservative movements have

tended to be overlooked by both women’s and political historians. However, as Kim E. Nielsen argues,

“Historians must take right-wing women seriously as political actors. Their politics and political alliances

have potentially serious consequence. Dismissing right-wing women as possessing only false

consciousness, as illogical or irrational, or even as humorous freaks, hinders analysis.” Kim E. Nielsen,

“Doing the Right Right,” Journal of Women’s History 16, no. 3 (2004): 169.

16

and a quickened pace of life. These phenomena, combined with a population that no longer felt

tied to paternalistic structures within the workplace, caused unprecedented changes in the city’s

manufactories that spilled over to its political order. However, these changes were not permanent.

Hamiltonians, returning to post-war normalcy, found themselves in a situation in which, as the

10,000-man strikes of 1946 suggested, old prescriptions did not fit new realities. In particular,

traditional ideas of British liberty and the free-standing individual did not fit easily with the new

realities of collective bargaining and class polarization. Yet, by putting traditional liberal

concepts to novel work, Hamilton’s civic leaders indicated how the political precepts of the old

Hamilton could be refashioned and redeployed in the modern postwar city.

Chapter Eight continues to explore the divided Hamilton introduced in the Chapter

Seven. As the city faced a garbage strike, ideas about citizenship, taxpayers, and the municipal

government’s responsibility came to the forefront. Who did the city serve and to whom did it

answer, its workers or its taxpayers? What was the city, a reasonable employer or a responsible

business? As the period of postwar labour unrest declined Hamilton’s political order took on a

more settled form. The city was divided. On one hand, there was a group of Hamiltonians that

still touted vague notions of “progress,” “service,” and “responsibility” to the free-standing,

taxpaying individual. On the other, a newly radicalized labour movement sought equality and

protection for workers at all costs. While traditional liberal values no longer resonated with the

some of the city’s workers, they were persistently touted by most of those elected to its public

offices.

The Myth of Hamilton Labour

Due to Hamilton’s early growth as an industrial centre, and proximity to the province’s

capital, Toronto, which lay just under 70 kilometers to the city’s north-east, Hamilton has long

17

struggled with identifying its cultural place in southern Ontario and Canada as a whole.48

As

Eyles and Peace describe it,

Toronto is metaphorically a city of consumption, a liveable city with a remodelled

late-modern and post-modern landscape. Hamilton is a city of production, a blue-

collar city, dominated by a functional and aesthetically outmoded environment.

Hamilton is our past, Toronto is our future and the icons of steel, Canadian football,

lunchbuckets, manual labour and visual monotony point up its outdatedness in this

so modern of postmodern eras.49

This image predated Eyles and Peace’s study of the city in the 1980s, and has persisted beyond its

publication. The symbols that they discuss continue to be used as identifiers of the city by

historians, journalists, and the general population of the area. Following a number of dramatic

strikes in the post-1945 period, Hamilton’s role, in the pages of history at least, became clear.

From this dramatic moment, an almost singular narrative of the city’s history developed. Some of

the scholars who developed this one-track narrative of the class-divided city were influenced by

Michael Katz’s path-breaking quantitative study of nineteenth-century Hamilton, which

emphasized the “dull and miserable” lives of its mainly transient workers.50

And even those who

disagreed with Katz on some grounds nonetheless concurred that Hamilton could serve as a

useful laboratory in which to test a number of general theories about class formation, class

conflict, and class consciousness. Robert Storey, Bryan Palmer, and Craig Heron have all used

the city for theses on the development of political consciousness, early labour organizing

activities, and working-class identity and politics.51

It has since stood in Canadian historiography

throughout the last two decades largely as the prime case study for a study of the working class,

which has reinforced the image of the city as a site of class cohesion and class conflict.52

48 Hamilton Spectator, “Ambitious City Gives Movement Fine Support,” 1 June 1929.

49 Eyles and Peace, 88.

50 Katz, The People of Hamilton, Canada West, 309.

51 Heron, “Working-Class Hamilton”; Palmer, “Most Uncommon Common Men”; Storey, “Workers,

Unions and Steel.” For a more recent study, see also Kristofferson, Craft Capitalism. 52

Coinciding with the growth of the field itself, social historians have expanded their focus on Hamilton,

most notably as a case study for urban histories. See Harris, Creeping Conformity; Michael Doucet and

John Weaver, Housing the North American City (Kingston: McGill Queen’s University Press, 1991); John

C. Weaver, Crimes, Constables and Courts: Order and Transgression in a Canadian City, 1816-1970

18

The struggles with de-industrialization and the resultant unemployment that the city has

undergone in its more recent history and in present day has hardened this image of the city in the

popular imagination.53

The prominent nature of the mass unemployment of the 1970s and 1980s

gave the city’s workers increased visibility as their struggles became national and provincial

political issues. They were heavily discussed and debated in political bodies and public forums.54

Given their symbolic significance and voting power, workers and their unions could hardly be

ignored by the city’s politicians. This was plainly evident in the 2011 Federal Election when, in

spite of The Hamilton Spectator’s ringing endorsement of the Conservative Party of Canada, the

New Democratic Party, who had been consistently visible and active in protesting the United

Steelworkers of America (USWA) local 1005 lockout by U.S. Steel, swept all three of the city’s

ridings, creating an orange bloc in Southern Ontario’s sea of Conservative blue.55

While in reality

employment in manufacturing has been declining in favour of growth in the service, health care,

research, and education sectors, the image of the city as a workers’ town is persistently evoked.56

(Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1995). Social histories of the city that expand beyond, but

still include, its working-class links have also developed out of this local focus on the working class,

making excellent use of pre-existing knowledge about the city’s class make-up. See George Nelson

Addison, “Life and Culture of Three ‘Blue Collar’ Churches in Hamilton, Ontario, 1875-1925,” (M.A.

Thesis, Queen’s University, Kingston, 1999); Peter Francis Maclean Hanlon, “Moral Order and the

Influence of Social Christianity in an Industrial City, 1890-1899: A Social Profile of the Protestant Lay

Leaders of Three Hamilton Churches – Centenary Methodist, Central Presbyterian and Christ’s Church

Cathedral,” (M.A. Thesis, McMaster University, 1984); Melissa Turkstra, “Christianity and the Working

Class in Early Twentieth Century English Canada,” (Ph.D. Dissertation, York University, 2005). Hamilton

has more recently served as a useful testing ground for economic and social histories asking questions

about women’s relationship with wealth and influence in the public and private spheres, which has proven

illuminating for my own research. Peter Baskerville, A Silent Revolution?: Gender and Wealth in English

Canada, (Montreal & Kingston; McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2008); Nielson-Varty, “A ‘Laudable

Undertaking’”. 53

For more on the strikes and their place in public memory see Brooke Anderson, “Steel Recall: Memory

of a Stelco Strike, Challenges of Deindustialization and the Spirit of ’46,” (unpublished course paper,

Queen’s University, 2012). 54

Steven High, Industrial Sunset: The Making of North America’s Rust Belt, 1969-1984 (Toronto:

University of Toronto Press, 2003). 55

Hamilton Spectator, “A Decision by Default,” 30 April 2011. 56

In the 2006 census, only 23,755 individuals identified their occupation as “Occupations unique to

processing, manufacturing and utilities,” compared with 30,965 in “Occupations in social science,

education, government service and religion,” 22,750 in “Health occupations,” and 89,635 in “Sales and

Service Occupations.” Statistics Canada, 2006 Census Tract Profile for Hamilton (CMA), Ontario,

accessed 2 February 2014, www.statcan.gc.ca . This represented a significant change from the 1996 census,

19

It is even embraced by the city’s growing arts movement and cultural industries.57

In spite of

changes to its demographic and economic makeup, the city is still largely thought of by Ontarians

and Canadians alike as “a depressing backwater,” known more for its industrial woes and factory

shutdowns than for its real estate growth, research prowess, and cultural contributions.58

This

combination of academic focus, politically powerful labour organizations, and public opinion has

reinforced the image of Hamilton as a labour town until it is almost indelible. It has become so

entrenched that there is little room for dissenting opinions or alternative narratives.

Methodology

Studying local politics provides an inroad to investigating questions about how

Hamilton’s politicians shaped and reshaped the political landscape. Municipal politics affords a

unique insight into how federal and provincial policies were implanted and integrated into the

city’s social and industrial landscape. Hamilton’s municipal politicians knew their city best and,

since they were elected by different wards and these wards provided more concentrated samples

of its population, they also better represented the diversity of its population and its political

thoughts and values. Unlike federal politics, municipal politics allowed for the inclusion of

everyone – or at least those who rented or owned sufficient property – from housewives to

mechanics, lawyers to labour activists. Additionally, municipal politicians in Hamilton were re-

elected annually, which meant that each year they had to state and restate their visions of the city.

This allows me to trace changing opinions over a number of years, since municipal politicians

usually served more than one term. In spite of its value as a profitable way of understanding

with 24,270 jobs in manufacturing in that year. The number of people in the labour force increased by over

140,000 people, as a result of both population increases and the amalgamation of the city in 2001.

Industrial workers in Hamilton made up a minority of the working population. Statistics Canada, 1996

Census Tract Profile for Hamilton-Wentworth Regional Municipality, Ontario, accessed 2 February 2014,

www.statcan.gc.ca 57

The Print Studio, “Art is the New Steel,” accessed 2 February 2014,

http://centre3.com/centre3upgradesite/media-arts/art-is-the-new-steel. 58

Greg Quill, “Hamilton is in the Midst of a Grassroots Cultural Revival,” The Toronto Star, 7 December

2012.

20

urban political culture, the historiography of municipal politics remains undeveloped in Canada.59

This means that a rich source of materials for analysis remain largely unplumbed, leaving it open

to the historian who wants to investigate them. Since Hamilton’s politicians oversaw spheres as

diverse as public health and playgrounds, they touched upon every part of society in a way that

was more direct and down-to-earth than that of politicians at higher levels.

In order to investigate the local political context I have conducted extensive research both

in the local press and local political records. Much of the research I completed at archives and

through local political records provided the structure for this dissertation but left more questions

than answers. The collections mandates of the Hamilton Public Library and the William Ready

Division of Archives and Special Collections (on figures of national importance and the

nineteenth-century, and the labour movement respectively) excludes many of the politicians,

social organizers and organizations, neighbourhood groups, and average Hamiltonians I would

have so liked to have known more about. Additionally, the City of Hamilton itself does not store

many records from prior to the 1960s, and did not maintain consistent collections on mayors,

councillors, or elections. So in addition to research collections at the Hamilton Public Library,

Library and Archives Canada, the Archives of Ontario, Queen’s and McMaster Universities, and

other smaller collections, this dissertation draws heavily on the newspapers that circulated in

Hamilton during this period. They proved invaluable resources for the exploration of the daily

and mundane running of a mid-twentieth-century city.

The largest and most enduring of these newspapers was the Hamilton Spectator. The

paper had been under the management of the Southam Newspaper chain since the nineteenth

59 Most work on municipal government continues to focus on biographical works, especially of women

since this was one of the first fields in which women made progress as elected officials. The literature also

often focuses on exceptionalities, like the socialist Mayor of Toronto, James Simpson. Judith Fingard and

Janet Guildford, eds., Mothers of the Municipality: Women, Work, and Social Policy in Post-1945 Halifax

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005); Gene Howard Homel, “James Simpson and the Origins of

Canadian Social Democracy,” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Toronto, 1978); Kathryn Kopinka,

“Women in Canadian Municipal Politics: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back,” Canadian Review of

Sociology and Anthropology 22, no. 3 (1985): 394-410.

21

century and was among the first papers the family bought in 1878.60

While the Southams ran a

well-supervised business, they allowed their carefully chosen editorial staff to oversee their own

regional editing. Although the editors saw eye to eye with the Southam family politically, they

had some breadth in choosing how to cover local issues.61

By 1935, the Spectator had a

circulation of 42,808 households. It penetrated the townships that surrounded Hamilton such as

Burlington, Dundas and Grimsby. Its circulation continually increased even throughout the

Depression.62

These numbers made it extremely likely that many of Hamilton’s 38,259

households had access to the Spectator. Even if Hamiltonians did not receive it themselves,

newspapers changed hands among families, on shop floors, and in professional offices.63

It is not

just the newspaper’s high circulation numbers that suggest it reflected the opinions of a large

proportion of Hamiltonians during this period. Since 1898, Hamilton had elected largely

Conservative Party members to both provincial and federal seats. Additionally, while city council

was officially non-partisan, its politics and make-up indicated that it too was dominated by

Conservative Party supporters. Thus, in the absence of many archival resources from individuals

in the Conservative Party in the city during this time, the Spectator provides an excellent resource

for insight into the predominant political views in the city. Additionally, since City Hall minutes

provide little detail beyond laws passed and voting records, the daily press is often our sole

source of information on many important local historical moments. While these have been quoted

directly, where possible, sometimes the Spectator has to be read against the grain to illuminate the

opposition that formed on council and in society at large to the hegemonic political culture of the

city. Through the inclusion and reading of the daily letters to the editor, I have also tried to reveal

60 Minko Sotiron, From Politics to Profits: the Commercialization of Canadian Daily Newspapers, 1890-

1920 (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1997) 89. 61

Ibid., 50. 62

McKim’s Directory of Canadian Publications, 29th

Edition (Montreal, Toronto and London England: A.

McKim Limited, 1936), 158-159. 63

These circulation numbers are especially high when one considers the number of non-English speaking

households in Hamilton less likely to receive the Spectator, or any English language daily, since foreign-

language local papers were available. Ibid.

22

reader responses to the paper, in an attempt to present the ways in which the paper was read and

responded to by its public.64

Letters to the editor are deliberately chosen by editors and are often an inflammatory

form of public opinion. The unfortunate lack of maintenance of personal papers on notable or

even ordinary Hamiltonians places these letters among the richest sources available to historians

of the city, especially during the 1930s. Far more attention has been drawn to Hamilton’s post-

Second World War labour crises than its inter-war experiences, so this period is especially devoid

of personal archival material. Most archival efforts have been directed towards maintaining

organizational records and so even the collections of the city’s more notable figures, such as

Ellen Fairclough, focus more on their work as part of organizations than their personal memories

or experiences. In the absence of such sources, I have aggressively mined the Spectator’s, and to

a lesser extent the Herald’s, letters to the editor sections. In these columns there was sufficient

back-and-forth on many local political and social issues, which demonstrates what issues were of

interest to readers. Ongoing debates were amply covered in the letters. They are presented

throughout the dissertation, and were chosen by reading each day’s “To the Editor” section for

the course of the 25 years this dissertation covers. I chose from among them those on pertinent

topics about which public opinion was otherwise difficult to find. In reading them, I have adopted

Valerie Korinek’s methodology of reading the whole body of letters for recurring trends and

topics, rather than seeking particular key words or specific events.65

Fortunately, the Spectator

was clear about its selection method: it demanded that identifiable letter-writers must display free

thought and an understanding of the rules of polite debate. Letters also had to be short – taking up

64 I have adopted the methodology used by Valerie Korinek in her study of Chatelaine magazine in my own

reading of the Spectator. Korinek stresses the importance of recognizing the editorial voice of publications,

something I have worked to bring out in my own reading of the paper. Valerie Korinek, Roughing it in the

Suburbs: Reading Chatelaine Magazine in the Fifties and Sixties (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,

2000) 72-5. 65

Korinek, Roughing it in the Suburbs, 16-23.

23

“only one side of the notepaper.”66

The editors in fact encouraged people who disagreed with the

paper to write in, and as evidenced by the letters published, it often received the diversity of

opinions it sought.

The Liberal daily the Hamilton Herald and the ILP-supporting monthly Labor News had

smaller circulation numbers, with 12,098 and 8,500 respectively, yet each still reached around a

quarter of the city proper’s 38,259 households.67

The two papers both circulated outside the city

as well. Circulation likely overlapped in some cases between these three main publications.68

During the 1950s Hamilton News had a similar share of circulation numbers. The non-

Conservative papers’ circulation shares roughly approximated electoral results as well, with

approximately a third of Hamiltonians usually voting for the Liberals and a smaller population

supporting the ILP when it ran in municipal elections. Once the Herald collapsed, the Liberal

voice in Hamilton’s press almost disappeared. While these newspapers provide an excellent

counterpoint to the Spectator, their short run and poor preservation make it difficult to use them

as consistent sources of contrary opinions. However, when read alongside manuscripts and other

sources, they illuminate the lives and opinions of the growing group of Hamiltonians who did not

adhere to the dominant political culture of the time. McMaster University’s rich collection of

post-Second World War union records was especially useful in providing this counterpoint to the

dominant narrative.

This local study carries implications that extend far beyond the borders of Hamilton. It

suggests that Canadian historians can learn much from the social history of politics, especially

from intensive studies carried out at the local level. Any understanding of Canada’s peculiar

66 Hamilton Spectator, “Letters to the Editor,” 16 March 1932.

67 McKim’s Directory of Canadian Publications, 29

th Edition, 158-159. This number of households was

also reflected in the 1931 Census data, which reported smaller but closely similar numbers of households. 68

Mary Vipond concluded that by the mid-twentieth century the average Canadian family who bought

newspapers bought two and a half, making this overlapping circulation statistically very likely. Mary

Vipond, The Mass Media in Canada: Who Decides What We Read, Watch, and Hear, fourth edition

(Toronto: James Lorimer and Company: 2011) 25.

24

socio-political stability in a fast-changing world needs to draw upon the ways in which people

responded to social problems and negotiated their political identities on a local level. Yet histories

about municipal governments and the ways in which citizens interacted with them are relatively

scarce in Canada. The absence of discussions about these politicians interacting with electors on a

daily basis has left many questions unanswered about how urban Canadians shaped their

relationships with such bodies and how they in turn shaped the experiences of urban citizens.

Municipal governments, along with their boards and workers, through decisions on roads, parks,

taxation, education, cultural programming, and welfare shaped how many Canadians experienced

daily life. As Hamiltonians’ relationships with their civic government, and expectations of it,

changed over these two decades, so too did how they conceived of themselves as citizens, of

politicians as their representatives, and of the Hamilton they imagined as their community.

25

Chapter 2: Hamilton in 1929: Building the City Prosperous and

Beautiful

In order to understand how Hamilton responded to the Great Depression, it is first

necessary to understand how Hamiltonians and others viewed their city prior to this upheaval.

The 1920s provided the definition of progress against which future policies were measured.

While this discussion largely focuses on the social, economic, and cultural transformations the

city underwent during the 1920s, these changes shaped Hamilton’s political scene and the

opinions of its politicians both in those years and the ones that followed it.

In 1929, Hamilton was a city on the rise. Its boosterish newspapers sought to turn the

sobriquet, the “Ambitious City,” condescendingly applied to it by major Toronto newspapers,

into a positive slogan.1 As one advertisement exclaimed, “Our premises for such enthusiasm are

sound. There is no cloud darkening our 1929 horizon; we have but to remember to go forward

only and failure of our desirable objectives is impossible.”2 One of the positive changes on

Hamilton’s horizon was its ever-growing population. It had been increasing steadily since the

First World War, with approximately 7,000 people settling there in 1929 alone.3 Such incoming

Hamiltonians, drawn by the region’s prosperity, its stable economy, and its wealth of social and

community services, meant new housing, stock, businesses and tax revenues – an extra

$6,000,000 to city coffers in 1929 alone. Hamilton maintained low unemployment rates

throughout these years of population increase, demonstrating that it was capable of sustaining

such growth. In the words of the Spectator, Hamilton was indeed a “Big Girl Now!”4 By 1929, a

1 Hamilton Spectator, “Ambitious City Gives Movement Fine Support,” 1 June 1929.

2 Hamilton Spectator, Advertisement, “Citizens of Hamilton and District: Greetings,” 9 January 1929.

3 Hamilton Spectator, “City’s Population Climbing Sharply,” 6 August 1929. Exact numbers were difficult

for even city council to calculate mid-year. Official counts were only undertaken in the lead-up to elections

and even then, as they were done by ward and were staggered, it was impossible to tell exact numbers. 4 Hamilton Spectator, “Big Girl Now,” 26 June 1929.

26

burgeoning middle class that had grown along with the working-class population was already

shaping city politics, social life, and political discourse.5

While the city grew, its tax rate did not. Throughout the 1920s, the city maintained a tax

rate of around 33.5 mills.6 This money went towards specific allocations, as dictated by an annual

by-law that fixed the rate of taxation. For 1929 this included a “general rate” for paying for

“general purposes,” a portion for the municipality’s sinking fund, a large portion for paying off

debentures and related interest charges, and separate contributions to the public and separate

schools. It also encompassed funds for the collegiate institute and technical school, and for parks

and the library. These allocations did not change significantly over the decades. The 1954 by-law

kept this fiscal order intact, with the exception of an added tax to pay for the operations of the

5 Heron, “Working-Class Hamilton,” 32-34. The expansion of Hamilton’s middle class of white-collar

professionals and wealthier small producers was a trend that was paralleled nationally and internationally in

the 1930s. As noted by Robert D. Johnston, in his study of Portland’s increasingly politicized middle-

classes, The Radical Middle Class: Populist Democracy and the Question of Capitalism in Progressive Era

Portland Oregon, the middle classes were not exempt from searching for a better world. Due to the

pressures of perceived high taxation rates, pressures on their private sphere, and a democratic urge,

Johnston suggests that “membership in the lower middle class can inspire some of the most democratic

thought and political radicalism imaginable.” Using their literacy, money and access to political and social

spheres of influence, the middle class fought for reforms within their self-identified areas of interest,

especially in local spheres where they could affect the most direct changes. Johnston, The Radical Middle

Class. Similar situations arose in Ontario as well, where small entrepreneurs found rich ground for

expanding their businesses and modernisation fed the need for a growing professional class. Andrew

Holman and Peter Baskerville find that Ontario’s growing business classes, inspired both by religious

influences and a strong liberal sense of individual responsibility, began to participate more publicly in the

economic, social, and political spheres of early twentieth century. Baskerville, A Silent Revolution, 3-4,

12-14; Andrew C. Holman, A Sense of Their Duty: Middle-Class Formation in Victorian Ontario Small

Towns (Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s Press, 2000), 9-12; Johnston, The Radical Middle

Class,15-19, 27-30, 51-54,57-59, 94-96. 6 The mill rate referred to taxation based on property value in thousands. Hamilton’s property taxes were

set at $33.50 per thousand dollars of property in 1929, which the mayor reported had been fairly constant

over the last decade. By-Law No. 3767 to Fix the Rate of Taxation, presented by John Peebles, Mayor, to

the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1929, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario:

1930), 28 February 1929. The Chamber of Commerce felt that this prudently moderate rate encouraged

settlement and future investment in the city. This harmonious agreement, and the persuasive powers of the

group, were reflected in the Chamber’s mission, as stated by its then-president J.C. Cullaghan, who advised

members, “If we do not stimulate respect among the Citizens as to the soundness of our judgement; if we

do not encourage the City officials to realize that our purpose is to work constructively with them for the

community’s good, that we at all times subvert political issues and keep before us the idea of civic unity

and prosperity; then we are not functioning as the Chamber of Commerce should function.” J.C.

Cullaghan, president, et. al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1929 to

March 31st 1930 (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, 1930), 1, Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce Papers, HPL.

27

Hamilton General Hospital.7 Through these property taxes and other sources of revenue, the city

expected to bring in $7,287,594 for the 1929 fiscal year.8 These other revenue streams included

municipal fees such as dog licences and water rates, and money coming in from its services,

including the Hamilton Street Railway, registry office, jails, hospitals, and libraries.9 Taxes and

the city’s revenue in general paid for a host of services including, but not limited to, the public

Board of Education, the parks board, the library board, the annual works budget, municipal relief

costs, playgrounds maintenance, public health funding, contributions to separate schools and

mother’s allowances, and day-to-day administrative expenses.

The city routinely drew debentures to pay for developments that could not be covered by

the city’s annual tax revenues, but that could be responsibly paid off over a number of years from

the city’s taxes. These were often used for large projects, costing in the hundreds of thousands of

dollars, which could not have been paid for using lump sums of money. In 1929 these included

debentures drawn for annexing Mount Hamilton, suburban road construction, and a local

improvement fund.10

Each year the budget included payments towards those debts, as well as a

sizable investment in a sinking fund. In 1929, money from taxes used for the sinking fund

investment and debenture payments, including interest, totalled $2,001,821. In spite of these

debts, the city achieved a surplus in 1928 and 1929, demonstrating what was perceived to be

responsible fiscal management. The city’s growing population made these low tax rates and

growing surpluses possible.

As Hamilton grew, its demographic composition changed. The image of the British

Empire loomed large over public commemorations in Hamilton, home to Empire Day founder

7 By-law no. 7520 to Fix the Rate of Taxation for the Year, 1954, presented by Lloyd D. Jackson, Mayor,

to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1954, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1954 (Hamilton, Ontario:

1930), 18 May 1954. 8 Estimated budget for 1929, presented by John Peebles, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council,

1929, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 28 February 1929. 9 Ibid.

10 Ibid.

28

Clementine Fessenden. The Spectator – the influential daily newspaper – exhorted the city’s

children to “keep the vision… of glorious British traditions and of the inspiring mission which the

Empire has to fulfill not alone for its own benefit, but for the cause of human progress in

general.”11

Yet the city’s population was hardly uniformly British. Immigration to the city had

increased substantially, much of it accounted for by skilled and unskilled labourers in the city’s

new manufactories. Between the 1921 and 1931 census, Hamilton’s recorded population became

increasingly diverse. Though the number of British immigrants kept pace there was a marked

increase in migrants from Italy, Poland, Germany, Holland, Hungary, and other European

countries.12

Along with this population explosion came the need for new land. Hamilton could no

longer fit in the narrow band of land between the Hamilton Harbour and the Niagara Escarpment

and so its city council pushed for its expansion. In one short year, 1929, the city, despite some

protests, annexed the districts formerly known as Mount Hamilton, the West-end Hamilton

Mountain, and West Hamilton.13

Given Hamilton’s sterling record of growth, it was

understandable that the outgoing mayor in 1929, William Burton, predicted that 1929 would

undoubtedly be improved on by 1930, which was expected to see “another great building

program… further factory developments… civic projects which will run into the neighbourhood

of $3,000,000 [and] the attention of the world… during the British Empire Games.”14

As the

Spectator prophesied, “If those people who left the city during the last few years do not return for

another decade they will then hardly recognize their hometown.”15

11 Hamilton Spectator, “Empire Day,” 28 May 1929. Despite the fact that very few Loyalists chose

Hamilton as their first settling place, the migration of their descendant farmers and traders to the region in

the 1840s ensured that the memory of loyalty to Britain would play a paramount part in commemorations

of the city’s past. This sentiment was fed by the Loyalists’ real (or imagined) descendants who formed a

significant part of Hamilton’s business and professional class by the mid-twentieth century. Hamilton

Spectator, “Great Spirit Lives again in Hamilton,” 25 May 1929. 12

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Cross-Classification, 900-912. 13

Hamilton Spectator. “Big Girl Now,” 25 June 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “West-enders In,” 30 January

1929; John Peebles, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1930 Minutes of Hamilton City Council,

1930 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1931), 6 January 1930. 14

Hamilton Spectator, “Greater Hamilton,” 28 December 1929. 15

Ibid.

29

The city had been enjoying unprecedented industrial growth, entailing the opening of

new factories and a huge construction boom.16

Companies that had already made Hamilton their

Canadian home base expanded en masse. In 1929 alone, International Harvester, Canadian

Westinghouse, Otis-Fensom Elevators, and Coca Cola, to name but a few, either built new

factories or expanded existing ones. They spent $15,000,000 on factory improvements in that one

year alone.17

Stelco was so proud of its newly refurbished factories, with a doubled capacity and

the ability to produce “added Galvanized and Pickled Sheets,” that it took out full-page

advertisements in the Spectator.18

Thanks to the efficiency of their new plant, with its superb

steelmaking technology, Stelco claimed, the company was able to ship coast to coast and thereby

reduce the nation’s reliance on imported steel. With profits of over $4,000,000 for 1928 and new

federal policies favouring nationally produced steel and steel by-products, Stelco seemingly

symbolized Canada’s success.19

In Hamilton, there were many such prospering businesses,

including the old established concerns that continued to provide stable jobs for workers and tax

revenues for the city.

New industries flocked to the city as well. The city council was noted for its ambitious

approach to gaining new industries and the city’s growth was credited – by the ever-enthusiastic

Spectator – “to a large extent, [to] the efficient business methods adopted by the council.”20

16 This boom was largely supervised by the man who would leave his mark on so many Hamilton

institutions, J.M. Pigott, head of the Pigott Construction Company. Buildings constructed in Hamilton by

Pigott Construction include Hamilton’s first skyscraper (the Pigott Building), McMaster University’s

original campus buildings, Westdale Secondary School which was for a time the largest secondary school

in the Commonwealth, the Bank of Montreal Building, and the Cathedral of Christ the King, all built

between 1928 and 1939. 17

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton, the City of Opportunity, is the Dominion’s Greatest Industrial: Industrial

Expansion at New Peak This Year,” 14 December 1929. 18

Hamilton Spectator, “The Steel Company of Canada: One of Hamilton’s Largest Industries,” 1 August

1929. 19

Hamilton Spectator, “Steel Company Report Reveals High Earnings,” 5 April 1929. These record high

profits were also reflected in the progress made by other local steel interests, such as Stanley Steel, which

also raked in record profits for 1928 and launched a similar expansion plan, though both were on a much

smaller scale than Stelco’s. Hamilton Spectator, “Stanley Steel Factory to be Enlarged Soon,” 29 April

1929. 20

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton’s Growth,” 26 August 1929.

30

Drawn by “a reservoir of contented and capable… help… unrivalled power and shipping

facilities, and… a greater population within a radius of 50 miles than the city of Toronto, as well

as being an accessible point for every city and town in the Niagara peninsula,” investors and

industrialists found the city a good place to make money.21

A Christmas retrospective published

in the Spectator boasted that Hamilton’s easy ability to supply semi-finished materials meant it

stood poised to attract a dozen new factories, including a Canadian branch of the Union Wire Die

Corporation, and the American Aniline and Extract Company.22

These new plants not only

brought jobs, but also provided free publicity for the city through the circulation of images of

factory plans and pictures published in trade magazines, often published in the United States.23

Hamilton, many agreed, was on the move.24

This image of success, and the growth of the Hamilton brand beyond its own borders,

was further fed by the Made/Produced-in-Canada exhibition, which was both a product of and

tool for Hamilton’s boosters. In 1925, as post-First World War production levels began to pick

up, the Canadian Manufacturers’ Association (CMA) launched a Made-in-Canada promotion in

order to encourage domestic consumption of Canadian goods.25

Given Hamilton’s swelling

industries, the city, in conjunction with the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire, the Canadian

Club, the Chamber of Commerce and the local CMA branch, launched its own Produced in

Canada exhibition in 1926. By 1928 the event was drawing 93,000 people.26

Becoming “the

foremost affair of its kind,” this fair highlighted for all to see Hamilton’s diverse industries and

21 Hamilton Spectator, “New Industry for Hamilton,” 9 April 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Tip Top Tailors’

$700,000 Plant,” 2 April 1929. 22

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton, the City of Opportunity, is the Dominion’s Greatest Industrial: Industrial

Expansion at New Peak This Year,” 14 December 1929. 23

Hamilton Spectator, “New Factory to Start in Month,” 12 January 1929. 24

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton’s Growth,” 26 August 1929. 25

Minutes of the Meeting of the Executive Committee, 29 June 1926, CMA Fonds, MG 28 I 230, volume

5, Library and Archives Canada, Ottawa, Ontario (LAC). 26

Hamilton Spectator, “Ambitious City Gives Movement Fine Support,” 28 February 1929; Minutes of the

Meeting of the Executive Committee, 29 June 1926, MG 28 I 230, volume 5, CMA Fonds, LAC.

31

products.27

Little was said of the men and women doing the actual work of producing the city’s

prosperity. While jobs, profits, and products were proudly hailed, workers and working

conditions were more discreetly handled.

The political situation in Hamilton in 1929 reflected the prosperity and progress of the

age, but also demonstrated the durability and depth of the city’s political traditions. Middle-class

professions were expanding. Professionals, small business owners and entrepreneurs had

benefitted from the relative prosperity of the 1920s. They approved of the investment that

underwrote this prosperity. Reflecting these attitudes, Hamilton was federally represented by

three Conservative politicians, with election histories ranging from one to five previous terms in

office. They included George Septimus Rennie, a respected medical doctor and celebrated World

War I veteran, serving in Hamilton East; Charles W. Bell, a high-profile defense attorney elected

in Hamilton West; and George Crooks Wilson, the senior statesmen of the three, who had worked

his way up through municipal and provincial governments and who thus, after winning the

Wentworth seat in 1911, listed his professions in the House of Commons records as “merchant

and gentleman.”28

All, to some extent, represented the climb that business men and professionals

had been making up the political ladder in Hamilton, and throughout Ontario, especially since the

war. They testified to the continuity of political trends and the enduring significance of social

networking.29

Their campaign efforts highlighted their shared dedication to the common good, as

demonstrated through good service to the public and hard work for their constituents. All were

described as “progressive” for their desire to move Canada forward. Both Hamilton candidates

27 Ibid.; Minutes of the Meeting of the Hamilton and Brantford Branch Executive Committee, 29 August

1930, MG 28 I 230, volume 18, CMA Fonds, LAC. 28

Globe and Mail, “Dr. George S. Rennie, Solider – Politician, is Dead at Hamilton,” 14 October 1930;

Globe and Mail, “C.W. Bell, Noted Lawyer to be Buried Thursday,” 9 February 1938; Globe and Mail,

“Former Wentworth MP Reported Near Death Following Long Illness,” May 1937; Canada, House of

Commons Debates (17th

Parliament), Parliamentarians index. While Wilson had worked with his father, a

hardware merchant, as a young man he had consistently served as an elected official since 1906. 29

Again, Wilson stands slightly apart from his peers. Due to his long service in Ottawa, he was much better

integrated into the political and social structures of that society than into those of Hamilton’s. Additionally,

as he served a rural riding his connections, as his occupational title suggests, were more aligned with the

social scene of the countryside than the city.

32

emphasized positive domestic economic support of industry as key to stabilizing Canada for the

next generation.30

A level-headed nature, talent in debate, and appropriate connections were all

political advantages.31

All three men were also members of the professional, social, and local

organizations that made up Hamilton’s public social fabric and which were popular and well-

attended at the time, such as the Hamilton Club and the Chamber of Commerce.32

These

connections, both socially and professionally, allowed Hamilton politicians to progress, with

experience and party support, from local politics to the federal field. Many Conservative

politicians were members of the almost-century-old Chamber of Commerce, which provided

businessmen with a chance to become politically involved through its perennial involvement in

civic affairs. Similar affiliations were common among politicians at all levels of Hamilton

society.

With no pending federal election, in 1929 a provincial election raged. Hamilton elected a

new all-Conservative slate to the Ontario Legislature. To George Smye, William Morrison and

Thomas Jutten the word ‘raged’ might have felt quite appropriate, as the public was deeply

divided on how to control liquor sales following the repeal of provincial prohibition laws. The

issue created a political atmosphere fraught with mudslinging and moralizing. It was one that was

30 Globe and Mail, “Dr. George S. Rennie, Solider – Politician, is Dead at Hamilton,” 14 October 1930;

Globe and Mail, “C.W. Bell, Noted Lawyer to be Buried Thursday,” 9 February 1938; Globe and Mail,

“Former Wentworth MP Reported Near Death Following Long Illness,” 4 May 1937. 31

In the Canadian and particularly the Ontario context, it is important to remember that community

politicians were often supported by those more powerful and often more wealthy than themselves. The

power of patronage in Ontario politics, especially in the nineteenth century and the earlier years of the

twentieth century, was real and strong. As Alan Gordon describes it, “it was a model designed to account

for the appeasement of regional, class, and ethnic critics of Canadian federalism.” People within

communities recognized the benefits to be had from supporting the winning politician in an election, both

for the individual and their community. While the formal patronage system described by Gordon and S.J.R.

Noel had died out by this period, the legacy of these patronage networks remained part of the local

economic fabric and shaped how the communities remembered their politicians’ ability to effect change

locally. Alan Gordon, “Patronage, Etiquette, and the Science of Connection: Edmund Bristol and Political

Management, 1911-21,” Canadian Historical Review 80, no. 1 (March 1999): 3, 6-8, 29-30; S.J.R. Noel,

Patrons, Clients, Brokers: Ontario Society and Politics, 1791-1896 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,

1990). 32

Globe and Mail, “Dr. George S. Rennie, Solider – Politician, is Dead at Hamilton,” 14 October 1930;

Globe and Mail, “C.W. Bell, Noted Lawyer to be Buried Thursday,” 9 February 1938; Globe and Mail,

“Former Wentworth MP Reported Near Death Following Long Illness,” 4 May 1937.

33

seen as quite unbecoming and even un-Hamiltonian. As the writers at the hyper-Conservative

Spectator intoned, “Excited condemnation of a particular act because of abuses which

undoubtedly ought to be remedied… is giving the election campaign altogether too one-sided a

complexion… Instead of working up a panic, the thing to do is to take a calm and dispassionate

view.”33

That such an impassioned tone was derided is in keeping with the moderate, gradual,

well-thought-out reforms favoured by the city’s leading Conservative politicians. Radicals,

especially Communists, were treated pejoratively. Their perceived lack of careful thought, calm

deportment, and respect for established and legal means of reform were all marks against them,

even in Hamilton’s labour movement.34

In 1929, the hearts of Hamilton’s politicians and growing middle classes were warmed by

appeals for orderly progress. Premier George Ferguson had made moves that fit within both the

government’s own improving agenda and a wider movement for social legislation. His

government’s accomplishments included passage (in initial form) of Ontario’s Workmen’s

Compensation Act, the introduction of old-age pensions, and, in a more traditionally conservative

direction, investments in infrastructure and highways. It moved to change the operation and

policies of Ontario Hydro. It worked to strengthen “the strong financial position of the province

for which the government is responsible.”35

The Conservative candidates advised the public that

“the welfare of the community is directly involved in these measures.”36

It was a warning they

carried as far as the local labour newspapers, where they ran ads that highlighted the strength of

33 Hamilton Spectator, “Many Issues,” 23 October 1929.

34 Hamilton Spectator, “Not Wanted,” 25 January 1929.

35 Hamilton Spectator, “Vote To-Morrow,” 29 October 1929.

36 Ibid.; Hamilton Spectator, “The Spectator Forum,” 24 October 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “The Spectator

Forum,” 25 October 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “The Spectator Forum,” 26 October 1929; Hamilton

Spectator, “The Spectator Forum,” 28 October 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “The Spectator Forum,” 29

October 1929; Canadian Labour World, “Which Party - - Liberal or Conservative is the Working Man’s

Best Friend?” 24 July 1930. Part of the Conservative Party’s appeal to labour emphasized the use of tariffs

nationally to protect the Canadian manufacturing industry. Through appealing to workers on the grounds of

providing any job, not necessarily a good job, and keeping prices low, they described this as a way to

“protect the home life of Canada.” Hamilton Spectator, “Conservative Women Hear J.R. MacNichol,” 19

April 1929.

34

the industrial job market and the profitable industries helped by this Conservative government.

Let industry operate freely, they and other Conservatives urged, and Hamilton would flourish.

Hamilton’s middle-class professionals had enjoyed great success meeting the complicated legal,

banking, and accounting requirements and of the city’s industries. They also benefitted from

providing shopping opportunities to the ever more extensive crowd of workers. They

understandably evinced little interest in seeing this pattern end. Thus the messages of the

Conservative Party filled the papers, circulars, and shop windows. Even the dissenting Liberal

(and liberal) Hamilton Herald conceded that the Conservative candidates had demonstrated strong

records of serving their community. Given the strength of the Conservative candidates’

community connections, their proven track record, the boosterish presentation of Hamilton’s

success to its citizens and onlookers, the historic alignment of the Conservative Party with the

interests of Hamilton’s growing middle class, and the broader success of the Conservatives

provincially, it was unsurprising that the party’s stalwarts won again. In 1929, the Conservative

candidates swept the city.

Municipally, Hamilton’s elected officials mirrored the principles and life-styles of its

federal and provincial representatives, though on a somewhat less grand scale. Long service in

office was common on Hamilton’s city council. Only two incumbents went down to defeat in the

1929 election.37

One was Mayor William Burton, who decided to drop down to the Board of

Control after serving two terms as mayor and “paid the penalty often enacted of those who give a

37 Hamilton Spectator, “McFarlane Polled Tremendous Vote,” 3 December 1929. Time served seemed to

be chief among the qualifications for Hamilton’s elected politicians. 1929’s new mayor, John Peebles, was

described as a “veteran legislator [who had rendered] splendid service,” to the people of Hamilton in his

previous elected positions. Hamilton Spectator, “Civic Election,” 30 November 1929. The longevity of

service on Hamilton City Council is best exemplified by Hamilton’s mayors during this period. Hamilton

had only six mayors between 1929 and 1953, four of whom served for four or more terms as mayor. Most

remarkable was Lloyd D. Jackson, elected in 1950, who went on to serve as mayor for thirteen years.

Additionally, most of Hamilton’s mayors had lengthy records of public service prior to their election as

mayor, such as Samuel Lawrence, who had served on the Board of Control or City Council since his first

election as Alderman in 1921 and who went on to serve an additional six years on the Board of Control

after retiring undefeated from his mayoral seat.

35

fearless and honest attempt at progressive civic management.”38

His push for industrial, business,

building, and civic expansion had made him a popular mayor, for the most part, but it was felt by

many that he would not be able to step back into the Board of Control after taking such a forceful

hand in Hamilton’s building. He was soundly defeated by a popular alderman, Donald

McFarlane, who was much younger and had received some of the largest voting margins in city

history in his aldermanic runs, a record of success he repeated in his run for Board of Control.39

Here too the middle classes were holding sway. Most of those running identified their

occupational positions as chairmen, business professionals, lawyers, and accountants. A handful

were professional public servants. Many also were serving or had served on the Chamber of

Commerce. They overlapped in their social circles and club affiliations.

Hamilton’s city council had openly and repeatedly declared itself to be non-partisan. In

the lofty theory of the day, councillors were service-oriented politicians, responsible for the city

as a whole, who attended to the city’s general concerns. There was no room here, officially at any

rate, for partisan politics.40

While political parties and their organizations publicly forwarded

slates of candidates in both major newspapers of the day, and indeed each newspaper presented

their own politicized slate, officially a candidate’s duty was to serve all. This was in keeping with

the larger tone of self-sacrifice and public duty that prevailed in the discourses surrounding

Hamilton politics in this era. In reality, most of the council’s elected officials, while

“progressive,” ran on fiscally conservative platforms that advocated politically conservative

goals, such as privatization of municipal services, increased support of industry, and job creation

through these business opportunities.41

“Progressive” for this period in Hamilton did not mean the

same things for most Hamilton politicians in 1929, as is seen in the speeches of both the incoming

38 Ibid. Mayor Burton’s loss as mayor was highly controversial and he continued to publish letters to the

Spectator about it for the rest of December. Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Blames His Defeat on False

Reports,” 3 December 1929. 39

Ibid. 40

Hamilton Spectator, “Council of 1930,” 3 December 1929. 41

Ibid.

36

and outgoing mayors, as it did for social reformers such as labour supporter Sam Lawrence. In

most cases progress was tied to increased revenues, geographic expansion, and a more appealing

physical landscape, not to supporting the less fortunate, encouraging safer workplaces, or

addressing any of the city’s many social inequalities. It should again be emphasized that

Hamilton’s middle classes were great supporters of industrial growth, but that this disposition

should not be connected with supporting the workers in the factories. Industry and labour were

two very separate things.

Even the casual observer could quickly learn that supposedly non-partisan councillors did

not live up to professed ideals of political neutrality. In Hamilton, councillors were elected in

geographically and socially distinct wards. Even as early as 1929, the most obvious divide was

between self-declared Marxian socialist Lawrence and other far more parsimonious members of

council. He favoured increased spending on public welfare, workers’ education, and increased

wages and rights for municipal workers.42

They, in general, did not. While officially there was no

party ticket, Lawrence was strongly affiliated in the public eye with the ILP, both due to his

membership in the organization and his continued activity in the labour movement.43

Lawrence

and the ILP won most of their elections in the Wards Five through Eight. These Wards were

closer to the harbour front, and thus to industrial workers’ workplaces. They were populated

largely by recent immigrants, many of them recently-arrived immigrants from Britain.44

Yet even

the fiercely partisan Lawrence and other former politicians who had served as Conservative

42 Hamilton Herald, “Sam Lawrence Follows Keir Hardie’s Pathway,” 16 February 1935. In 1929, the most

obvious example of class conflict was the long-simmering debate over the switch to daylight savings time.

While some on council felt it made more sense for farmers and bankers to be on the new time scheme, a

firm group of holdouts were concerned about the impact of everything from working-men’s schedules to

increased automobile accidents. In the end, council did not feel it could come to a decision on its own and

so the question was put to a referendum, which passed. Meeting of the City of Hamilton, City Council,

1929, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 29 May 1929 43

Hamilton Spectator, “Year of Activity is Shown for Labor Movement in City,” 14 December 1929;

Hamilton Herald, “The Election,” 3 December 1929; Labor News, “Hamilton Laborites Addressed the

Newly Organized Brantford Labor Party,” 28 April 1929. 44

J. W. Watson, “Urban Developments in the Niagara Peninsula,” Canadian Journal of Economics and

Political Science 9, no. 4 (November 1943): 485, box 10, file 1, J. Wreford Watson fonds, WRDARC.

Many of them had arrived after 1918.

37

candidates in federal and provincial elections paid lip service to the great ideal of disinterested

civic altruism.

Throughout the 1920s, a growing middle class of professionals and businessmen had

begun to play an important role in municipal political and social life, largely through their

increased presence on city council and in the increasingly powerful Chamber of Commerce.45

This group began to play an important role as the city grew. The Chamber of Commerce and city

council crusaded to ensure that Hamilton stayed on top of the minds of those with money to

spend. Beginning in 1926, the two formed the Joint Industrial and Publicity Committee, designed

to attract capital investment to the city and also to improve its image. The committee spread news

about Hamilton’s virtues locally, nationally, and internationally among a growing class of

pleasure travellers and middle class entrepreneurs.46

After all, with tax revenues into the millions,

it seemed there was little to be lost by investing a few thousand dollars in embellishing the city’s

image. These tax revenues resulted from the very desirable long-term industrial investments and

trade opportunities touted in the committee’s advertisements. They also arose from the

expenditures of delegates to commercial, trade and social conventions held in the city and from

much-coveted tourists choosing this location, be it for business or pleasure.47

The necessary

money to fund this campaign was provided jointly through donations from the public, largely

45 Heron, “Working-Class Hamilton,” 32-34.

46 Hamilton Spectator, “Publicity Work for Conventions,” 4 January 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton

Will Spend $15,000 on Publicity,” 16 January 1929. The committee was composed of five members of City

Council that served as its Industrial and Publicity Committee and five men nominated by the mayor who

were known as the Business Men’s Advisory Committee. City of Hamilton, City Council, 1929, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 7 January 1929 47

Cullaghan, et. Al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1929 to March 31

st

1930, 16-17, Hamilton Chamber of Commerce papers, HPL; Hamilton Spectator, “Publicity Drive,” 17

January 1929. Due to its proximity to the American border, it became a popular spot for American tourists

and businessmen looking to see the country. Strangely enough, due to Hamilton’s large immigrant

population, the city also quickly became a popular place for visiting international deputations.

38

Chamber of Commerce members and entrepreneurs, and a matching donation from the city

itself.48

In 1929, the joint committee’s aim was to raise $9,000 from the public, a goal easily met

in the first quarter of the year through a massive fundraising drive launched jointly through the

Spectator and a mass letter sent out to citizens.49

This money was used for publicity, through the

circulation of a pamphlet published by the committee entitled Hamilton, Canada: The City of

Opportunity, campaigns in appropriate trade papers, and trade promotions of Hamilton at

conventions.50

It was also used to encourage large scale conferences to choose the city and add

revenues to its coffers.51

The diverse purposes of this campaign, meant to attract businesses and

tourists alike, prompted the city boosters to present Hamilton not just as a city of industry (though

the ten-page business directory including factories producing everything from steel to pasta

certainly achieved that end), but also as a beautiful city boasting flourishing families. Here, the

campaign proclaimed, was “THE City Beautiful.”52

48 Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton Will Spend $15,000 on Publicity,” 16 January 1929; Hamilton Spectator,

“Funds are Required for Publicity Work,” 16 February 1929; Hamilton Spectator, Editorial, “Fine

Publicity,” 11 July 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Chamber of Commerce is Very Progressive Body,” 29

December 1929; Cullaghan, et. Al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1929

to March 31st 1930, 15-17, Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Papers, HPL.

49 Hamilton Spectator, “Funds are Required for Publicity Work,” 16 February 1929; Hamilton Spectator,

Editorial, “Fine Publicity, 11 July 1929; Cullaghan, et. Al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce, April 1st 1929 to March 31

st 1930, 15-17, Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Papers, HPL.

50 Hamilton Spectator, “Chamber of Commerce is Very Progressive Body,” 29 December 1929; Cullaghan,

et. Al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1929 to March 31

st 1930, 15-17,

Hamilton Chamber of Commerce papers, HPL; Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, Canada: The City of Opportunity,

1928, Industrial Commissioner’s Records, RG-17, HRCH, HPL. The pamphlet was not updated annually

due to the costs involved in printing and producing the 50-page pamphlet, printed on glossy cardstock.

While partially funded by businesses that paid a nominal fee to be featured in the business directory, the

expense involved was significant and so no dates were printed on the actual pamphlets, allowing them to be

used with little difference into the following years. The 1928 printing was the last until a 1932 edition,

which differed significantly in design and content. 51

Meeting of the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1929, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1929

(Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 7 January 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Publicity Drive,” 17 January 1929. In

1928 the city had managed to attract 28 such conferences and hoped to add to that number for 1929. 52

Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, Canada: The City of Opportunity, 1928, pull-out panorama, Industrial

Commissioner’s Records, RG-17, HRCH, HPL. Emphasis in original. Hamilton’s adoption of the City

Beautiful slogan actually came quite late in the continent-wide movement, long after other cities had

abandoned it. This positive approach to urbanism grew in popularity throughout the first decades of the

twentieth-century when regional planners were confronted with how to make busy, crowded urban spaces

39

Hamilton, in 1929, was seen as having been blessed with natural advantages: “Nestling

on the shores of Hamilton Bay, a beautiful land-locked harbor at the head of Lake Ontario, it is

sheltered on the south by the Niagara escarpment, from the summit of which a panoramic view of

the city below, with the harbor and lake in the distance, unfolds in picturesque magnificence.”53

These scenic views were preserved and improved upon by the city’s extremely active Parks and

Playgrounds boards, which fought continually to retain green space in the growing city. The year

1929 saw improvements to the well-loved strolling grounds at Dundurn Park, the addition of a

scenic harbour outlook in the west end, further development and expansion to the public gardens

in Gage Park to the east, the construction of new walking trails up and down the escarpment, and

the preservation of woodland marshes in the newly-annexed Westdale area.54

More reliable cars

and more developed roads allowed motorists to choose the city as a lunch stop on day trips to and

from Niagara Falls and Toronto.55

The parks networks were praised by tourists for allowing for a

spot to stretch one’s legs in a more scenic outlook than a roadside gas station.56

City

attractive, desirable, and livable. Stanley Buder, Visionaries and Planners: The Garden City Movement and

the Modern Community (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990); Howard Gillette Jr., Civitas By Design:

Building Better Communities from the Garden City to New Urbanism (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:

University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010), 4-11; Standish Meacham, Regaining Paradise: Englishness and

the Early Garden City Movement (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1999); Raymond A.

Mohl, The New City: Urban America in the Industrial Age, 1860-1920 (Arlington Heights, Illinois:

Harland Davidson, 1985), 35-47, 67-80; Daniel Rodgers, Atlantic Crossings: Social Politics in a

Progressive Age (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1998), 160-163; Michael Simpson,

Thomas Adams and the Modern Planning Movement: Britain, Canada, and the United States, 1900-1940

(London and New York: Mansell Publishing, 1985); William H. Wilson, The City Beautiful Movement

(Baltimore, Maryland: The John Hopkins University Press, 1989), 281-305. 53

Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, Canada: The City of Opportunity, 1928, 11, Industrial Commissioner’s Records,

RG-17, HRCH, HPL. 54

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton’s Beautiful Parks Enjoyed by All Citizens Both Young and Old,” 14

December 1929. At the end of each year, as a means of presenting a public statement on their work for the

year, each department wrote a brief article for the Spectator’s year-end wrap up issue. These articles serve

also to summarize and show to completion ideas debated in city council minutes. 55

Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, Canada: The City of Opportunity, 1928, 12-13, Industrial Commissioner’s

Records, RG-17, HRCH, HPL. 56

These parks were also praised by city activists for providing well-lit spots off of roadways for youths to

play on. There was growing apprehension of the automobile, heightened by the seemingly ever-growing

number of road deaths each year. The parks’ utility was presented as important to providing every class of

people an opportunity to escape such travails of modernity.

40

beautification was more than just a passing fad for council. It was part of a wide-ranging middle-

class vision of the city.

To complement these natural beauties, middle-class Hamiltonians began to reshape their

residences in a ‘more natural’ style, developing new planned neighbourhoods in the surrounding

countryside. In 1929 Hamilton was growing geographically as well as economically. The

“Ambitious City” expanded to accommodate the needs of its growing, and increasingly wealthy,

population.57

New planned neighbourhoods expanded westward and south towards the

escarpment following the annexation of West Hamilton and the Hamilton Mountain areas.58

Charming single-family homes were built along the city’s “network of broad, well-kept

thoroughfares, artistically bordered with shade trees,” and enclosed by the splendid green

escarpment.59

In an attempt to distinguish their city from other urban centres, with their slum-like

neighbourhoods, Hamilton’s city planning committee and local builders made a conscious effort

to develop its neighbourhoods in keeping with the then-current philosophy that suburbs should be

designed to be as natural as possible.60

Its home advertisements, newspaper write-ups, and

publicity material spoke of these new neighbourhoods’ “profusion of shady trees, impressive

57 Housing shortages, a common problem for Canada’s growing cities, were noted in 1929 as among the

city’s highest concerns. The aforementioned population growth had combined with a long-term problem in

rental repairs, making temporary housing especially hard to find. While a housing commission had been

established in 1918 to solve the post-war crisis, the city’s temporary rentals were rented out so cheaply that

repairs could not be completed and they were subsequently deemed unfit for habitation. Meeting of City of

Hamilton, Board of Control, 1929, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930),

26 November 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “House Shortage,” 29 November 1929. Peter Baskerville noted

that Hamiltonians’ probate wealth had on the whole increased over the 50 years prior to 1931. This

included significant growth in the middle income group and increased wealth for women. Baskerville, A

Silent Revolution?, 23-30. 58

Hamilton Spectator, “Big Girl Now,” 25 June 1929. 59

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton, the City of Opportunity, is the Dominion’s Greatest Industrial: Industrial

Expansion at New Peak This Year,” 14 December 1929. 60

J.C. Cullaghan, “What Kind of a Place is Hamilton?,” Hamilton Spectator, 14 December 1929. For more

on suburbanization see Harris, Creeping Conformity; Margaret Marsh, Suburban Lives (New Brunswick,

New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 1990); James Lorimer and Evelyn Ross, eds., The Second City

Book: Studies of Urban and Suburban Canada (Toronto: James Lorimer and Company, 1977).

41

public buildings, and handsome, ‘homey’ residences.”61

The growing workforce, especially those

in heavy industry could – at least in theory – escape the shadows of the city’s industrial

behemoths. While the city still included cramped, tall, single-family dwellings in the workers’

districts, the Chamber of Commerce, house-builders, and the city council tried to promote

expansion outwards to these new, spacious and beautiful suburbs, replacing the compact urban

city with one that boasted a fashionable suburban sprawl.62

In addition to their city’s natural beauty, state-of-the-art landscaping, and advantageous

location, Hamiltonians could be proud of their city’s architecture. As the city’s then mayor,

William Burton noted, “With the erection of the Pigott Building, the Bank of Montreal, the new

Baker Dial Exchange and the considerable changes of uptown Main Street and the new T. Eaton

Co. Extensions, we can truthfully say that the main business and shopping centres of Hamilton

has been greatly improved.”63

As the city’s prospering population moved into their new houses,

retail stores and banks built grand new buildings in the city’s downtown, now serviced with

gleaming Hamilton Street Railway streetcars. These stores, such as Henry Birks and Sons

Jewellers, were celebrated for carrying a fine selection of wares – but also for having employed

Hamilton workers throughout their construction.

The city’s architects and city council imagined these retail spaces and office buildings to

be the new city commons. The downtown had evolved from its roots as a mid-eighteenth-century

collection of small shops and homes into a bustling business centre. It was only in the 1920s that

its architecture had caught up with it ambitions. Grand stores, imposing public buildings, and

even some of the country’s first skyscrapers added to the sense of a city on the move. Such

buildings were advertised not only as beautiful in their own right but also as material evidence of

61 Ibid.; Kirkpatrick, Hamilton, Canada: The City of Opportunity, 1928, 11, Industrial Commissioner’s

Records, RG-17, HRCH, HPL. 62

Doucet and Weaver, Housing the North American City, 90-91. 63

William Burton, Mayor, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1929, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 7 January1929.

42

progressive Hamilton’s prosperity.64

With the opening of the new Bank of Montreal building in

the city’s centre in June of 1929, it seemed that the city’s transformation into an attractive

metropolis was finally reaching completion. Local papers, visitors, and citizens noted the

edifice’s beauty and, as the Spectator put it, “James street south has become a street of which any

city might well be proud.”65

The handsome building also served the practical function of

advertising the city’s wares to anyone who could ask. Each part of its construction process had

had a Hamiltonian fingerprint. The Spectator carried a two-page spread listing all the local

industries that had contributed to its construction. In the words of the reporter, “Not only is it a

building to which they can refer with pride as being second to none of its class in the wide

Dominion, but they can point to the fact that it is almost entirely a Hamilton Product.”66

From the

Hamilton Bridge Works steel running through the building’s supports, and the Queenston

Canadian Limestone gracing the building’s grand exterior, to the Cooksville Tile that covered all

the building’s floors – here was a building that showed what Hamilton could accomplish.67

As the

Spectator noted, “Any one who plans a building here can obtain practically all the materials from

this district.”68

64 Hamilton Spectator, “Skyscraper Rises from Ashes of Past,” 2 March 1929.

65 Hamilton Spectator, “Banker’s Fine Tribute,” 17 June 1929.

66 Hamilton Spectator, “Citizens Should Be Doubly Proud of the New Bank,” 15 June 1929.

67 Ibid., and surrounding advertisements, 15 June 1929.

68 Ibid.

43

Figure 1: Current photograph, former Bank of Montreal Building, Hamilton, 2014. Source: Author's

collection.

Along with the construction of the stout but grand Bank of Montreal building, Joseph M.

Pigott envisioned the addition of a new skyscraper (named after himself) as a towering

advertisement of Hamilton. While he had long been the architect of choice for the Golden

Horseshoe area’s wealthiest homebuilders, his company also worked hard at obtaining projects

that would draw the broader public’s attention, such as this skyscraper.69

He aimed to make it a

jewel for the whole city to admire. On the opening day Pigott described the excitement in his

meticulously kept daily diaries: “Thousands and thousands of people packed the two stairways

right up to the Tower, which seemed to be the main attraction. Queues formed along James Street

and we had to enlist the help of the Hamilton Fire Department to handle the crowd and keep them

69 J.M. Pigott, internal memorandum 1928, J.M. Pigott daily journal 1929, box 3, file 18, J.M. Pigott fonds,

WRDARC.

44

moving. This went on for two days. I was filled with pride.”70

The Spectator praised the tower,

specifically pointing to the joy it would bring the middle-class businessmen who worked there

and to their factory-worker clientele. “In these democratic days,” an unnamed journalist

exclaimed, “the tendency is for luxury to spread downward. In homes, theaters, public buildings,

the aim is to give the average person the sense of beauty and comfort. The things which were the

exclusive property of the wealthy a few generations ago are becoming the necessities of all. This

is true also of office buildings and the magnificent Pigott building is a case in point.”71

A number

of the city’s growing class of businessmen and professionals echoed these sentiments about the

new Hamilton of the 1930s. While each focused on things of importance to themselves, all agreed

that with its new downtown and natural beauties, Hamilton was a good-looking and forward-

looking place, to be enjoyed by all who lived there.72

70 J.M. Pigott, condensed diaries, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds, WRDARC. These diaries were

condensed by Pigott himself for possible publication later in life. Due to the daily and personal nature of

the original diaries, the condensed additions provide invaluable confirmation of abbreviations and unclear

references in the original, while remaining largely unchanged in content. 71

Hamilton Spectator, “Luxury Spreads Downward These Democratic Days,” 2 March 1929. Skyscrapers

began as ideologically imbued architectural ideas. City boosters often sought to have the first, the tallest,

the most modern, the most architecturally beautiful, or otherwise distinguished building, and their

discussions of these buildings reflected their value as cornerstones in their respective cities. For numerous

case studies of the ideological roots of these achievements see Roberta Moudry, ed., The American

Skyscraper: Cultural Histories (Cambridge, United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press, 2005). 72

Cullaghan, “What Kind of a Place is Hamilton?,” Hamilton Spectator.

45

Figure 2: Current photograph of the Pigott Building, Hamilton, 2014. Source: Author's collection.

46

The Chamber of Commerce’s coup in luring McMaster University to Hamilton added

immeasurably to the city’s progressive aura in the late 1920s. The University had moved from

Toronto to Hamilton where it could construct its own multi-building campus. As the Spectator

proclaimed in its annual wrap-up of city business, “It was largely due to [the] Chamber’s efforts

that Hamilton was chosen as the site of McMaster University.”73

The Chamber and the city

worked together to lure the university to Hamilton with pitches that combined progress with the

picturesque. They fulsomely spoke of the city’s beauty and tranquility, not at all of its industry

and urban bustle. The land proposed for the campus was far from Hamilton’s factories and the

downtown. It boasted frontage on a natural ravine and forest, eight acres of parkland to be used

for later expansion, and a proposed botanical and horticultural garden, all for the enjoyment and

edification of staff, students and citizens.74

One of the key additions was a sunken garden at the

front entrance. Landscaped by Howard B. Dunnington-Grubb, noted for his recent much-praised

work at Gage Park, by the time of its 1931 completion this garden would include fountains, rock

walls, landscaped gardens, and plants chosen specifically to match the existing wild botanical

setting of the university’s semi-rural setting.75

The migration of McMaster to Hamilton was seen

as an event that provided scope for the city’s landscapers and architects, and as a boon for

Hamiltonians of culture and breeding. It joined Hamilton’s book clubs, lecture societies and arts

73 Hamilton Spectator, “Chamber of Commerce is Very Progressive Body,” 29 December 1929. Hamilton’s

Chamber of Commerce had grown out of its Board of Trade, founded in 1845. It was reorganized as the

Chamber of Commerce in 1920 to suit the city’s growing economy. As one of the oldest organizations, it

carried an air of respectability and heritage that gave it great weight, especially due to the wide variety of

services its members carried out. In addition to directing annual “Paint-up” and “clean-up” efforts and the

hosting Made-in-Hamilton week in cooperation with the CMA they were responsible for day to day affairs

such as forming the city’s first Family Service Bureau, providing assistance to those seeking mortgages,

offering training courses in business and accounting, and advising on numerous by-laws and civic policies.

Pamphlet “An Invitation...” and enclosed letter to residents of Hamilton, “91 Years of Service,” 1936,

Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Papers, HPL. 74

Hamilton Spectator, “Plans for McMaster Landscape Changed,” 27 April 1929. 75

Ibid. Dunnington-Grubb would go on to landscape the gardens at the University of Toronto and much of

the Niagara Falls Parkway, including the gardens surrounding the Rainbow Bridge.

47

groups.76

Having a university meant new ideas, new speakers, and newly invigorated intellectual

life, all of which seemed to suit Hamilton’s progressive vision. The Chamber of Commerce also

liked the thought of new business and especially new visitors drawn from around the world to

McMaster.

Given their city’s industrial strength, natural beauty, growing population and new-found

cultural sophistication many Hamiltonians could rightly feel proud of the city. Many could also

feel prosperous. Jobs, including more skilled and higher paying positions, were fairly plentiful

and allowed scope for both advancement and stability. Housing was improving and the city was

expanding. The city council and Chamber of Commerce were pouring more and more money into

beautification projects that made the city’s natural spaces more appealing to all classes of citizen.

The downtown’s new and improved shopping districts brought an air of urban splendour and

order to the city. The city was seen to be on an ever-upwards path of progress. While economic

hardship would soon rock the city to its core, it is important to remember that the view of

Hamilton held by many Hamiltonians who lived through the Depression, and later the Second

World War, was informed by their experiences in the 1920s, when Hamilton was prosperous,

bustling, and – at least in the eyes of its middle-class boosters – beautiful.

76 The arrival of the university was praised by the intellectual circles, many of them started at the turn of the

century. By 1929, Hamilton boasted a Dickens Fellowship, the Thirteen Club (an exclusive group of

women who gave lectures on varied topics each week at rotating homes), the Hamilton Association for the

Advancement of Science and Literature, an educational arm of the Women’s Institute, a Canadian Club,

and a Women’s Canadian Club. Their records demonstrate that the university’s initially small staff and

their wives integrated smoothly into this social set. Additionally, its various churches and synagogues, and

Anglo-Centric organizations such as the Gaelic Society, St. Andrew’s Benevolent Society, St. George’s

Society, UEL Society, and Imperial Order of Daughters of the Empire benefitted greatly through the

addition of lectures that ranged beyond their circle of writers and travellers to the mother country.

Charitable organizations and social outreach programs also often hosted guest lectures from relevant

McMaster faculty.

48

Chapter 3: “A Sincere… and… Successful Leader in the Cause of Social

Reform”: Labourism, the Independent Labour Party, and the

Conservative Political Order in Hamilton Civic Politics

Since 1898, Hamilton’s federal seats had been consistently held by Conservative Party

politicians. While the provincial seats had fluctuated a little, through the election of Allan

Studholme, an ILP politician, to the eleventh through fourteenth provincial legislatures, even

these had seen otherwise continuous representation by Conservatives. Even the non-partisan city

council, often the first training ground for later federal and provincial candidates, was largely

filled with Conservative politicians or friendly parties. This majority ensured that even when

alternative, more radical voices were present on council, their votes were outnumbered. Through

turning to public commentaries on the Conservative Party and its opponents, paying particular

attention to the values attached to them, it is possible to understand why it was able to enjoy such

success in the city. The key tenets of the Conservative Party’s platforms showed a careful mix of

fiscal conservatism and ideas of industry and progress, mixed with the social and ethical ideals of

liberalism that had become a prominent cornerstone of Canadian political life.1 The Conservative

focus on trade protected by tariff walls and subsidized development, on funding industrial

progress over socialized job creation, and on helping individuals stand on their own two feet

during the early years of the Depression especially reflected the broader federal policies that had

1 Canada’s liberal hegemonic order thrived extraordinarily in the city. In Ian McKay’s study of Canada’s

liberal hegemonic order, he provides a broader view of Canadian history than a strictly Marxist analysis, as

through Gramsci’s theory of hegemony historians are able “to appreciate the extent to which a given social

group can only exercise leadership over others by going beyond its immediate corporate interests to take

into account the interests of other groups and classes.” While there were moments that seemingly subverted

the hegemonic order on the surface, ultimately they reinforced the very order they sought to transform by

facilitating the radicals’ integration into the mainstream. McKay’s work on the development of a

hegemonic liberal order in Canada, which includes both the more traditional forms and the reform

liberalism of the 1930s, has been helpful in defining these liberal interests entering this period. Hamilton’s

Conservative and labour politicians articulated and integrated into their rhetoric many of the ideas that

McKay notes were prominent among inter-war progressives, and the language of earlier liberals discussed

in his text. McKay, “The Liberal Order Framework,” 622-626, 642.

49

come to represent the Canadian Conservative Party in the twentieth century.2 Due to the centrality

of industry to Hamilton’s job market, the party was able to spin these promises in a way that

appealed even to working-class voters from whom it may otherwise have been disconnected.

In Hamilton, appeals to classical liberal themes – individualism, property, improvement –

resonated with voters. Hamilton continued to be home to an above-average number of

homeowners and its civic government placed great importance on property taxes, emphasizing

the importance of frugality and fiscal soundness to both citizens and politicians.3 The

Conservative Party also won popularity with its steadfast adherence to the constitution, which

included ideals such as honest and clean electioneering, faith in the Empire, and above all whole-

hearted devotion to the public.4 Thus, one of the key attributes of successful candidates in

Hamilton’s elections was a proven record of service to the public. Conservative candidates often

emphasized things that had been achieved by Conservative governments when a Hamilton

Conservative represented the city in Ottawa or Toronto. While a Liberal candidate might serve

only himself and his party in Parliament, they claimed, “the Conservative candidates sought to

serve for the benefit of the whole dominion.”5 For example, given that tariffs were of direct

benefit to so many Hamilton industries and that Conservatives had so strongly fought for adding

2 What being a Conservative meant has always been contested, as seen in Charles Taylor’s interviews with

a number of early radical or “Red” Tories. However, a protectionist fiscal policy and leeriness towards

foreign, especially American, intrusion were hallmarks of this period. Charles Taylor, Radical Tories: The

Conservative Tradition in Canada (Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 2006). As Michael Bliss points out the

National Policy, ostensibly about protecting Canadian industry, had the paradoxical effect of attracting

more American branch plants once it became too costly to import goods. Michael Bliss, A Living Profit:

Studies in the Social History of Canadian Business, 1883-1911 (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1983).

By the 1920s, these branch plants were viewed as a positive part of Hamilton’s economic landscape for

their economic investment in the area and for their large numbers of employees. The connection between

domestic production and the Conservative Party dated back to the Macdonald government’s “National

Policy.” Meant to protect Canadian interests through the creation of transportation networks, immigration,

and domestic tariffs its legacy lived on in the Conservative Party of the twentieth century. Robert Craig

Brown, Canada’s National Policy, 1883-1900: A Study in Canadian-American Relations (Princeton, New

Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1964). 3 See table 3 for comparative home ownership figures.

4 Hamilton Spectator, “Mitchell Wins,” 11 August 1931; McKay, “The Liberal Order Framework,” 622-

626, 642; Heron, “Labourism,” 45-75; Schneirov, Labor and Urban Politics, 3-5, 307-316. 5 Hamilton Spectator, “Candidates at Garden Party in Confident Mood,” 25 July 1930.

50

more of them, it was easy to claim that every tariff-protected factory was a sign of their genius.

Even as the Depression raged, the Conservatives would vaunt their protectionist successes.

Middle-class Hamiltonians were constantly enjoined to put service before self, public

duty before private benefit. Their political activities were supposed to reflect this high-minded

civic idealism.6 They were seen as demonstrating a willingness to aid those in need without

preventing them from helping themselves as well. This contribution was especially important

because they were often among the lucky few with the time, money, and social connections to

devote to such service. Even those without direct political service records played up their roles in

the private sector, such as M.M. Robinson, who wrung political capital out of his chairmanship of

the British Empire Games.7 With the Great War still fresh in the memories of many in Hamilton,

having a military service record was also a sure sign that one was a loyal servant of the British

Empire.8

6 Hamilton Spectator, “Hon. F.T. Smye,” 17 November 1930. While, obviously, not everyone could run for

office, this spirit continued on to the city’s many committees. With hospital boards, welfare boards,

playground boards, and parks boards to name but a few, it was possible for anyone with a desire to do so to

participate in civic life, though there was competition for appointments. Indeed most members of the

Chamber of Commerce sat on at least one committee and it was considered a mark of gentlemanly

upbringing to do so. Hamilton Spectator, “City Playgrounds,”6 May 1931. The qualifications for a person

running for election were that they had to be: An owner or tenant of a property in the city, entered on the

most recent voter’s list, a British subject, and paid up on their municipal taxes. Hamilton Spectator, “Five

are Seeking Honour of Chief Magistrate’s Chair,” 22 November 1934. Women who did not own or rent

their own property could run so long as their husband met the requirements. 7 Hamilton Spectator, campaign advertisement “Electors of Hamilton East,” 8 August 1931. This could of

course backfire, because in Robinson’s case his opponent had gained actual political experience from his

time spent as an alderman on city council. This was sometimes the problem when ILP and Conservative

candidates ran on such similar platforms. 8 Even though he had served as a military doctor, not a soldier, this imagery can be seen heavily in the

campaigns and commemoration of George Septimus Rennie. Rennie was further praised for his extensive

public service which included serving as “Chief Coroner for Hamilton, Medical Director of the

Commonwealth Life Insurance Company, Surgeon-in-Chief of the Toronto, Hamilton and Buffalo Railway

Company, of the Dominion Power and Transmission Company, and President of the St. John’s Ambulance

Association, Hamilton Centre.” Globe and Mail, “Dr. George S. Rennie, Solider – Politician, is Dead at

Hamilton,” 14 October 1930. His non-Conservative successor, Humphrey Mitchell, similarly played up his

past service, especially since his opponent had none.

51

Good past service was so important because it demonstrated that candidates knew

Hamilton well. Localism dominated all levels of electoral politics.9 Unsurprisingly, the charge

that a politician was actually more from Ottawa or Toronto than from Hamilton could be

extremely harmful.10

Even first-time candidates were expected to prove somehow that they

understood the city’s people, as was the case with Board of Control candidate Donald McFarlane,

whose overwhelming success was attributed to the fact that he knew everyone in his riding.11

While Conservatives did not have the monopoly on good public service and familiarity with their

respective ridings, their repeated successes electorally did give such arguments a degree of

plausibility.

While service was necessary, not all political service was necessarily praiseworthy. It was

not good enough to be a politician; one had to be honest and virtuous as well. This fit in with the

ideal that all candidates and successful politicians should value the spirit of fair play and order

embodied by the constitution and respect the governing bodies created under its auspices. During

the election, candidates were expected to be rational, calm, self-possessed, and mature. They were

to confine their comments to themselves and their vision of Hamilton, not to insult their

9 Katz paints a picture of a city whose citizens were transient and largely detached from their geographical

location. Though Katz suggests that Hamiltonians of the nineteenth century saw transience as key to

upwards mobility, by the twentieth century localism and civic identity had become stronger factors in

people’s lives. While the early twentieth century had seen increased migration to the city, increased

production and then punitive relief laws made such mobility and transience undesirable states of being.

Katz, People of Hamilton, Canada West, 105-109. 10

Elmore Phillpot faced these accusations from his Conservative opponent when he ran for the West

Hamilton MLA seat as a Liberal. This accusation obviously hit him hard, to the extent that he included it in

his speeches on the subject and took out a newspaper campaign ad that solely focused on the fact that he

did not live in Toronto and would definitely reside in Hamilton if elected to serve. He had in fact only

moved back to Hamilton two months before the election, giving some truth to the claims made by both

sides. Hamilton Spectator, Campaign Ad “Philpott Lives in Hamilton,” 10 February 1931; Hamilton

Spectator, Campaign Ad “West Hamilton Electors! What Do You Think?” 10 February 1931. 11

Hamilton Herald, “How to Please the Voters,” 4 December 1929. The importance of knowing one’s

constituency was evident for both Liberals and Conservatives. For example, when Freeman Trelevean ran

for the Liberal Party in Hamilton, his advertisements focused largely on his past service and knowledge of

the city of Hamilton, as its former mayor. Hamilton Herald, “A Notable Candidate,” 29 May 1930. In spite

of the optimism of the party, suppositions that he might finally be the first candidate since “the great days

of Laurier and Fielding” to bring Hamilton’s Conservatives and Liberals together, and his perceived

suitability as a candidate, he lost to the Conservative candidate. Hamilton Herald, “An Inspiring Meeting,”

27 June 1930.

52

opponents.12

This good conduct included an avoidance of “partisan prejudice” when discussing

the current government, because “electors who want to get the truth will not seek their

information in such biased sources.”13

This behaviour was thought to be part of the higher moral

standards to which politicians were expected to hold themselves in their service of their

constituents. After they were elected, they were expected to uphold the same standards. They

were criticized for misleading voters, for exhibiting on-the-job laziness, and – perhaps most

revealingly – for spending too much time away from town, all of which were seen as insults to

Hamilton voters.14

Part of this attitude reflected quite clearly the stance that the press and political parties

assumed with respect to voting. Each individual was described as being responsible for his or her

own vote. To vote irresponsibly reflected poorly on the character, intelligence and integrity of a

person.15

Seen as the great unifier through which anyone could improve their lot, voting was a

duty it behooved any self-determined individual to perform.16

As the Spectator articulated it:

“How can a people govern themselves if they are unwilling to perform the first and simplest duty

of citizenship – namely to take an interest in public affairs and assist in the election of worthy

administrators?”17

The Liberal Party struggled with many Hamiltonians’ apathy about the

political order in general and the Liberal Party in particular – even on the part of self-professed

Liberals who often seemed unable to work up the energy to vote. Whatever their misgivings

12 Hamilton Spectator, “Ruthless Politics,” 17 July 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Mud-Slinging Politics,” 7

April 1933. Regarding negative campaigning, the Spectator repeated over and over again that “it is to be

hoped that [the people’s negative reactions to mudslinging] will discourage any repetition of such tactics,”

especially as they seemed to have no impact on the results. Even a Conservative battle could be won badly,

in their gentlemanly opinion. Hamilton Spectator, “Mr. Martin Wins,” 12 February 1931. 13

Hamilton Spectator, “Political Veracity,” 20 July 1931. Interestingly, this policy did apply to all parties.

Politicians from both sides of the floor were accused of pettiness for picking on the flaws of past

governments. 14

Hamilton Spectator, “Ruthless Politics,” 17 July 1931. 15

Even during this period women voters were rarely addressed directly as a separate interest group. 16

Hamilton Herald, “Your Vote and Influence,” 29 October 1929. 17

Hamilton Spectator, “Value of the Vote,” 4 December 1930.

53

about Conservative hegemony in Hamilton, they were not sufficient to prompt Liberals

consistently to resist it.18

While these definitions of political virtue might seem nebulous, even more so was the

supposed difference between the two big Hamiltonian parties. As the Spectator flippantly noted,

“There is so much Liberalism in Conservatism, and so much Conservatism in Liberalism, and we

have the combined label, Liberal-Conservative.”19

But the one clear distinction between the two

was the Conservative Party’s avowed protectionism. The Conservative Party, both federally and

provincially, preferred: “Intra-Empire trade reciprocity, safeguarding of Canadian Producers –

agricultural and industrial – from dumping of American products” and the development of

infrastructure to support progress in trade and industry.20

As with liberalism, these were not fixed

values or ideals and could be modified as the market and the voters demanded. “Particularly

misjudged by reason of its label,” the Conservative Party, even then, proclaimed its devotion to

reform and progress. It recognized, in candidate David Robinson’s words in 1936, that “there are

evils in the present capitalist system that must be torn up by the root and branch.”21

Those ‘evils’

did not include private enterprise and heavy industry, duly celebrated in most Conservative

appeals.

While some during the Depression were likely to point at industrial capitalism as one of

the evils that had caused it, for the Conservatives it was the shovel that would help to dig

18 Hamilton Herald, “The By-Election,” 12 February 1931.

19 Hamilton Spectator, “The Election,” 13 June 1934. This feeling of exasperation with the sameness of the

two parties led to some frustration about elections in general in the city. The Herald suggested that instead

of voting for a party, Hamilton should vote for whomever was most likely to form the government. Of

course this was a statement the Liberal-leaning paper could feel safe in making, as they wrongly expected

the party to return for another four years under Mackenzie King. Hamilton Herald, “Has Hamilton No

Voice?” 4 June 1930; Hamilton Herald, “Inside Election Views,” 14 February 1931. These titles were

further confused by the Conservative party’s Confederation-era name, the Liberal-Conservative party,

under Sir John A. Macdonald. This name persisted through to the end of the nineteenth century. The party

name transitioned to the Conservative Party over the early years of the twentieth century. John English, The

Decline of Politics: The Conservatives and the Party System 1901-20 (Toronto: University of Toronto

Press, 1993). 20

Hamilton Spectator, “Election Tactics,” 25 June 1930. 21

Speech by David A. Robinson to a Jewish community group in Hamilton regarding the Conservative

Party, 1936, box 2, file 6, David A. Robinson fonds, WRDARC.

54

Hamiltonians out of it. They took an extremely protective stance with respect to private industry

throughout the Depression. Since Isaac Buchanan’s advocacy of tariff protection in the 1850s,

Hamilton manufacturers and workingmen had been targeted with arguments for tariff protection

that emphasized the shared class interests of manufacturers and their employees.22

The

Conservative Party under R.B. Bennett merely accentuated the message: tariffs were revenue-

producing tools for Canadian manufacturers.23

An exception was made, naturally, for trade with

Britain which was encouraged as a means of supporting the Empire as a whole, not just the

Dominion of Canada. To the Conservative Party, and this view was expressed by many

Hamiltonians as well, Canada’s British traditions tied it irrevocably to the project of Empire. To

be loyal to Canada meant pledging loyalty to the Empire as well.

Conservatives, it was said, were job creators.24

They were the friends of the working

classes. Through developing industry-sponsored apprenticeship programs and training colleges,

the “Safe! Sound! Sane!” party claimed it was building jobs through “Common Sense, Not

Emotion or Sentiment!”25

Nor did such Conservatives balk at the decade’s highway-building

programs, which promised to improve trade routes within Canada and to create much-needed

unskilled, short-term positions for the unemployed.26

Hamilton Conservatives focused not on Old

22 Both prior to and throughout the Depression, the Canadian Labor World and the Labor News ran several

issues with “Buy National” themed banners and ran similar content. Canadian Labor World, “Cheap Labor

is a Menace to Industry,” 31 January 1929; Canadian Labor World, “Patronize Canadian Made Goods,”

31 January 1929; Canadian Labor World, “Hamilton’s Annual ‘Made in Canada’ Exhibition,” 28 February

1929; Canadian Labor World, “Steady Employment,” 29 May 1930; Canadian Labor World,

“Unemployment,” 30 October 1930. 23

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Wilton Urges Support for Bennett,” 8 October 1935; Hamilton Herald, “Mr.

Bennett off His Base,” 14 June 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “No Surprises Were Sprung at Nomination

Conference,” 21 October 1929. 24

Canadian Labor World, Campaign advertisement “Which Party – Liberal or Conservative is the Working

Man’s Best Friend?” 24 July 1930. 25

Hamilton Spectator, Campaign Advertisement “A United Front and a Record of Achievement. Vote

Conservative!” 16 June 1930; J.M. Pigott, page 182, condensed diaries, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds,

WRDARC. 26

Hamilton Spectator, “Chamber of Commerce,” 21 March 1930; Charles Peebles, president, et. al.,

Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1932 to March 31

st 1933 (Hamilton,

Ontario: Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, 1933), Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Papers, HPL; Charles

Peebles, president, et. Al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1933 to March

55

Age Pensions or the social reforms but on infrastructure expansion, industrial development, and

Canadian protectionism. As long as they remained influential and respected as the political voice

of Hamilton, any easy equation of the Steel City with working-class radicalism was wide of the

mark. Their focus remained on solving the problems of capitalism, not those of the oppressed

masses, and down to the 1930s they remained quite conspicuously and enduringly successful.

One of the problems of the Depression was that much of the responsibility for relief for

the poor and unemployed fell on municipalities. While this had always been the case, there had

never been so many people to help before. Relief money was scarce. In 1932, a group of citizens,

largely business men and lawyers, formed the Hamilton Civic Research Association, “to discover

a means of economizing in civic government and administration.”27

Similarly offering a

governmental solution to municipal problems, Mayor John Peebles was among the first mayors to

propose a national mayors’ council to strive for a solution to a relief crisis that he largely viewed

as one brought on by provincial and federal selfishness.28

The dedication of Depression-era public

figures to this organization was a demonstration of the widely-held belief in Hamilton and across

Canadian urban centres that civic government was not considered a lesser sphere, but rather as

one of the most important to its citizens.29

In terms of classical liberal theory, civic government,

31st 1934 (Hamilton: Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, 1934), Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Papers,

HPL. During the Depression, annual reports for this organization, and many others in the city, were

significantly scaled back in grandeur. This resulted, in this case, in them dropping their booklet format and,

along with it, their page numbers. In reality while job creation numbers were in the hundreds, relief

numbers stayed between 5,000 and 10,000 throughout this period in Hamilton. Hamilton’s north western

entrance was part of this expansion program, meant to provide a modern link between the city, Toronto,

London, and the fruit-rich Niagara Region, which sometimes saw fruit thrown out when it was unprofitable

to transport it. 27

Hamilton Spectator, “Research Body is Praised by Mayor Peebles,” 20 August 1932; Hamilton

Spectator, “Too Cumbersome,” 17 November 1932. 28

Hamilton Spectator, “Ontario’s Mayors Assemble in City,” 26 June 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Great

Response,” 23 June 1931; Letter to the Mayors of Ontario from Mayor John Peebles of Hamilton, 31

March 1933, RG 3-8-0-427, George Henry Correspondence files, Archives of Ontario, York University,

Toronto, Ontario (AofO. 29

Letter to Mitchell Hepburn from the Hamilton Board of Control regarding the situation of Municipalities

during the Depression, 5 February 1935, RG 3-9-0-122, Mitchell Hepburn Correspondence files, AofO.

56

so intimately tied to property and improvement, was where the free-standing individual was

necessarily a key figure in fighting for reforms.

As with the federal and provincial elections, proven experience and a record of public

dedication played in the favour of municipal candidates, especially in the age of Depression

crisis. Civic government, close to the citizens, rivaled, on Peebles’s analysis, the provincial and

federal states with respect to its centrality in the lives of the people. He warned the incoming

council: “Alone I can accomplish little… I am sure we will all work in hearty co-operation for the

benefit of our City.”30

Peebles’s role as Depression-era Mayor made him the most vocal speaker

on this topic. Each year in his inaugural speech as mayor, Hamilton’s economic position

worsened. Each year his plea for service became firmer.

The success of any business, large or small, municipal or otherwise, may be

compared to that of the winning football team… Personal glory must be

sacrificed for the good of co-operative team work. If civic representatives of

Hamilton wish to make good their pre-election promises, and that includes

myself, then they will honestly and earnestly strive throughout the coming year

to serve in the best interests of the greatest number of people.31

This was not just a vague refrain echoed by the mayor as a platitude, but rather was part of what

Hamiltonians expected of their politicians. The theme was echoed by his fellow council members,

Board of Control candidates and mayoral candidates in their campaign materials and speeches at

civic events. Their service was not just for their glory, but for the improvement of all of their

constituents, and indeed the city at large. They thus emphasized their previous experiences and

used them to reinforce their campaigns. As Controller John Henry Bell told electors during his

unsuccessful run for mayor, “If the citizens of Hamilton want my service it is at their disposal.” 32

30 John Peebles, Mayor, Inaugural Address to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 3 January 1933. 31

John Peebles, Mayor, Inaugural Address to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1934, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1934 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1935), 2 January 1934. 32

Hamilton Spectator, “New Candidates in Municipal Struggle,” 21 November 1932. Boards of Control

themselves were products of a move towards a more responsible municipal government. First adopted in

Toronto in 1896 and by Hamilton in 1910, it created a business centre for the city, responsible for its day to

day running and with the final say on many operational matters. This move was thought to make the city

operate more efficiently. Weaver, Shaping the Canadian City. Men who embodied the British liberal ideal

57

Civic politicians reinforced the view that they sought to work for others, not themselves.

Unfortunately for Bell’s mayoral hopes, this reliance on past service was held to with exceptional

persistence during the Depression when “a citizenry aroused during the past 12 months by the

attention that has been centred about municipal affairs and more fully appreciative than ever

before flocked to the polls to elect Mayor Peebles.”33

This belief in civic responsibility was

echoed throughout the city’s charitable and social organizations such as the Chamber of

Commerce, which emphasized that the success of such voluntary organizations was a function of

the willingness and enthusiasm of volunteers, placing a heavy onus on their determination and

willing spirits.34

In keeping with the interests of the Conservative agenda of the City Council, even as

relief rolls rose and businesses closed, the mayor tried his best to live up to the ideal of fiscal

prudence. Peebles spoke often of Hamilton’s need for “careful, economical, and efficient

administration.”35

He was re-elected each time he ran.36

And in office, he governed with the

prudence and caution he had promised voters. In addition to carrying out a relief program that in

1931 provided work for approximately 10,000 to 12,000 men, he managed to reduce expenditures

and debts.37

Excepting Quebec City, Hamilton had the lowest per capita tax rate of any major

Canadian city. This was amazing, given that the city and its unemployed suffered

disproportionately during the Depression. The percentages of men and women who lost working

hours due to the Depression (51% of men and 32.8% of women claimed to have lost hours) was

higher than in any Canadian city other than Windsor, and the absolute unemployment numbers

touted by Hamilton’s politicians were presented as uniquely well suited to such service, because of their

ability to sacrifice their own interests, but also to work for the betterment of the city as a whole. 33

Hamilton Spectator, Peebles Re-elected by Large Majority,” 6 December 1932. 34

Peebles, et. Al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1933 to March 31

st

1934, Hamilton Chamber of Commerce papers, HPL. 35

Hamilton Spectator, “Three are Entered in Race for Mayor,” 27 November 1931. 36

Ibid. Similarly, both of the other candidates spoke of this need for fiscal retrenchment, quite opposite to

the Keynesian response to Depression era spending. 37

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Makes Final Address to Electors,” 5 December 1931.

58

were higher for cities of a similar size only in Montreal, Winnipeg and Vancouver.38

Throughout

his early years as mayor, Peebles persevered in his goal of providing a “careful, honest,

progressive, and economical administration” by making sometimes unpopular and difficult cuts.

These included cutbacks in the amount of money for the construction of new schools,

consolidating government departments, cutting civic salaries, reducing spending on out-of-date

machinery maintenance, and introducing one-operator street cars.39

Each move was unpopular

with some voters and all were criticized by the left – but the mayor was re-elected.

Such austerity-related measures were not as unpopular as the eventually necessary raise

in taxes across the city, implemented not by the mayor-led Board of Control but rather by the city

council alone. Many of Hamilton’s citizens and businesses were already quite strapped for cash.40

Described as “oppressive,” “outrageous,” and blamed for initiating “a terrible situation,” the tax

hike would – its critics said – halt industrial investment, increase unemployment, and result in an

increased need for rent and mortgage relief.41

While fiscally restrained, Peebles, his Board of

Control, the city council, and Chamber of Commerce worked together to revive the progressive

Hamilton of 1929. This adherence to fiscal conservatism echoed the larger game of politics being

played in Ottawa and Toronto. Though Hamilton’s city council might have been professedly non-

38 W. Peter Archibald, “Distress, Dissent and Alienation: Hamilton Workers in the Great Depression,”

Urban History Review, 21, no.2 (Oct. 1992): 6-10. 39

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Makes Final Address to Electors,” 5 December 1931; Hamilton Spectator,

“Board of Control Takes Firm Stand,” 7 January 1932; Hamilton Spectator, “Tax Rate is Fixed, Civic

Salaries Cut,” 3 March 1932; Hamilton Spectator, “Incline Question Again Thrown Out,” 3 March 1932;

Decision of the Ontario Railway and Municipal Board on the use of one-man street cars, as reported to the

City of Hamilton, City Council, 1931, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1931 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1932),

28 April 1931. The city’s street railway saw further cuts as the Depression persisted and ridership

decreased, with mass layoffs and wage cuts in 1935. Obviously Transit Workers Local 107 tried to appeal

these cuts, but in the end had to settle for the reductions. Letter to from the President of the Amalgamated

Transit Workers (ATW), W.D. Mahon, to Local 107 president , P Cheatley, regarding unemployment and

transit working conditions, February 15th

1935, box 5, file 1, ATW Local 107 fonds,

WRDARWRDARCC; Notes regarding meeting with management regarding lay-offs, October 1932, box 8,

file 1, ATW Local 107 fonds, WRDARC. 40

Hamilton Spectator, “Citizens Deplore Rise in Taxes,” 9 March 1932. 41

Ibid. The council argued it would be impossible to balance the 1932 budget without taking out more

debentures or increasing taxes. The more business-minded board of control felt that the current deficit

demonstrated that council was not being frugal enough in times of need.

59

partisan, it was obviously championing values and policies ideologically similar to those of

Conservatives dominion-wide.

While many of the political ideals espoused by Hamilton’s council members, mayors and

controllers echoed those seen elsewhere, in some ways City Hall was the exception. Most

notably, it was a point of pride for councillors, controllers and the mayor alike that as members of

the civic body they served purely as public servants, never as politicians. As one candidate put it,

“I am absolutely an independent candidate, free from party politics, organization, or cliques, and

represent the over-burdened taxpayer.”42

According to the ideals of the day, aldermen and city

officials held to the belief that “We’re not politicians. We’re the mouthpiece of the city... Not for

a minute do we think that it is political.”43

Aldermen, controllers, and the mayor were thought not

to be bound by political constraints. They were thus more able to do what was necessary for the

city. It is for this very reason that Sam Lawrence did not sit well with council’s aims. Lawrence,

as a member of the Board of Control, was consistently vocal about his British Labour Party

background and his support for a more government-focused and compassionate approach to

relief. For example he fought against the deportation of supposed relief fraudsters and tried to do

away with relief inspections.44

As for the CCF, it stood apart on the civic level as “a definite

42 Hamilton Spectator, “Brisk Battle for Aldermanic Chairs,” 25 November 1932.

43 Hamilton Spectator, “Council Denounced as Political Body,” 4 July 1932; Hamilton Spectator, “Safe

Yardstick,” 28 November 1933. 44

Hamilton Spectator, “On Whose Side,” 27 May 1932; Hamilton Spectator, “Voices Criticism of Relief

Tactics,” 30 May 1932; Hamilton Spectator, “Lawrence Responds to Recent Attack,” 7 June 1932;

Hamilton Spectator, “Bell and Lawrence Clashed on Relief,” 8 August 1932. This divide was reflected in

the Board’s records as well. Lawrence often stood apart in their private meetings. He supported welfare

organizations, increasing relief, civic workers’ rights and protections, and child welfare. When leftist Agnes

Sharpe was elected as an alderman, after her time of the school board, she was listed as in support of his

decisions and motions. Meeting of the Hamilton, Board of Control, 1931, Minutes of Hamilton Board of

Control, 1931 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1932), 15 June 1931; Meeting of the Hamilton, Board of Control, 1935,

Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1936), 29 April 1935; Meeting of the

Hamilton, Board of Control, 1935, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1936),

16 September 1935; Meeting of the Hamilton, Board of Control, 1935, Minutes of Hamilton Board of

Control, 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1936), 28 November 1935. Relief fraud became a bigger problem for the

city as the Depression progressed. It was difficult to tell which were actual cases of fraud and which were

cases of differing perceptions of ‘need.’ Hamilton Spectator, “Commence Drive Against Relief Frauds,” 11

May 1934.

60

political body,” in a place where such a thing was not considered proper.45

Described by one

letter writer as “irresponsible candidates… who wish to enter out municipal council to dissipate

the taxpayer’s money,” and “‘reds’ of the first water,” Lawrence and the CCFers, with their

passion for party, seemed intent on changing Hamilton’s age-old civic tradition.46

The ardent tone

that the party adopted constituted one of its greatest sins in the eyes of the city’s older politicians.

They warned of meetings prone to “deescalate from parliamentary to ‘beer garden’ procedure.”47

Disordered meetings were deplored, as was heated debate. To Hamilton’s politicians and middle-

class political participants, council was a serious business. The CCFers’ (and later Communists’)

outbursts were seen as lowering the status of those assembled to that of common rabble rousers.

Lesser Eligibility for More and More People: Hamilton’s Approach to Depression-Era

Welfare

It is important to remember that in 1929, Hamilton had been a prosperous city with a

flourishing middle class, with growing industrial prospects, and seemingly endless possibilities

for its future. It was a Conservative stronghold. Long before 1929, it had developed a definite

political culture. This culture strongly influenced not only the people who ran for and won public

office, but also pre-selected the very questions Hamiltonians asked about politics at all. After five

years of never-ceasing prosperity, job creation and expansion, the Great Depression was a hard

pill to swallow, and an even harder one to recognize.48

It was extraordinarily difficult for

45 Hamilton Spectator, “Straight Fight for Mayoralty Likely,” 23 November 1933. Only exceedingly rarely

did other parties run a slate of candidates locally, as when the Liberal party ran two identified aldermanic

candidates in 1934. From its inception until the conclusion of the period studied by this dissertation, the

CCF consistently ran and identified slates of municipal candidates in Hamilton. 46

C.J. Pearce, Letter to the Editor, “Irresponsible Candidates,” Hamilton Spectator, 1 December 1933. This

prediction did hold true to some extent, with the CCF forming a fairly vocal bloc. It was rarely successful

due to the mixed composition of council. 47

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor, Alderman in Lively Clash,” 10 January 1934. 48

Hamilton Spectator, “New Mayor Outlines Work of Council for Year,” 6 January 1930. The Mayor, in

his inaugural speech declared that he was not thinking much about the Depression going into his election.

He optimistically stated that “we should be careful to distinguish between real and temporary depression.

Much of the unemployment [at this time] seems unavoidable and inevitable for this season of the year, and

every effort should be continued to provide as much City work as possible at this period of the year. There

61

Hamiltonians to reconcile this crisis of unemployment with a world view that supposed anyone

who truly wanted a job could obtain one simply by actively looking. Due to the optimism of 1929

in particular, Hamilton’s liberal political observers struggled to reconcile their situation with the

desperation so graphically described on the front pages of both of their daily newspapers.

Of course, part of the problem was not just recognizing the issue, but also acknowledging

its seriousness and longevity. Like much of the rest of Canada, Hamilton’s businessmen and

politicians were slow to recognize the lasting impact of this financial crisis, especially on the

workers.49

After years of seeing seasonal and temporary unemployment fluctuations, it was hard

to recognize this as a crisis.50

Heightened unemployment was considered merely part of a routine

seasonal pattern. By August of 1930 the situation had reached a tipping point. Mayor Peebles

called a meeting on 2 August to discuss the problem directly.51

The conclusion suited the city’s

political approach to both the poor and the city to a tee. The unemployed men of Hamilton would

be put to work fixing nuisance traffic spots, beautifying industrial brownfields, and leveling

graded railway crossings.52

Not only would this get unemployed men to work, it would also

improve parts of the city that had long been overlooked and “act as a fillip to other employers to

go ahead with projects of expansion and improvement and thus keep the industrial machine in

is no real indication in Canada or in Hamilton of any real permanent depression.” John Peebles, Mayor,

speaking to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1930, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1930 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1931), 6 January 1930. 49

J.C. Cullaghan, president, et. al., Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, April 1st 1930

to March 31st 1931 (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton Chamber of Commerce, 1931), 1, Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce papers, HPL. The Chamber of Commerce in 1931 still spoke of unemployment and business

shut-downs as “special individual problems.” 50

The first signs of a lasting problem with unemployment were noted in the Spectator in late January 1930.

However, even then the paper reflected that the problem was not chronic and could be solved through

immediate changes to policies in both industry and government regarding what, even then, was seen to be a

slightly larger population of seasonally unemployed men. Hamilton Spectator, “Unemployment has

Become Very Acute,” 10 January 1930. 51

Due to the extremely formal nature of Hamilton’s City Council minutes, it is often impossible to tell

what actually went on there. No dialogue is reported and often issues are identified by their “Order in

Council” numbers. The Board of Control minutes are sometimes a little bit more illuminating. Reading

such minutes and then supplementing them with the Spectator’s city hall reports proved a much more

useful way to recreate the cut-and-thrust of civic debate in Hamilton. 52

Hamilton Spectator, “Practical Help,” 3 August 1930.

62

active operation.”53

Peebles aptly distilled Hamilton’s response to the early years of Depression:

every man, as a self-possessed free individual, would do his best to make the city pretty.

Initially during the Depression, Hamilton had enough money to sustain improvement

projects. Through tax reserves and its public works budget it funded a $2,000,000 work-for-relief

program on its own.54

In 1930, relief work was employed on grand projects, such as the city’s

much vaunted new North West entrance and rock garden, and on humbler ones such as snow

removal, sewer installation, hydro line dismantling, and alley paving.55

Additionally, the city

provided what it judged to be adequate footwear and work clothing to those men who could not

afford to purchase them on their own, and were thus prevented from working.56

Medical relief

was also offered to men too sick to work, and to help families with sick children. The welfare

board promised that such children would never have to do without treatment or adequate

nourishment, no matter their parents’ “sins.”57

As the city’s own money ran out and relief rolls

climbed to an estimated 10,000 men, Canada’s municipalities gathered to discuss what was to be

done. As relief of the poor had always been a municipal responsibility, the federal and provincial

governments were at first hesitant to spend more of their short-running money to support the

53 Ibid.

54 Hamilton Spectator, “Relief Program, 18 October 1930. The Board of Control noted that Public Works

funding was planned to go on as usual for the next year, with the following projects expected: completion

of the North West entrance plan, connected to TB McQuesten’s Rock Garden (4 March 1931) including a

new High Level Bridge (8 June 1931); Extensive sewer work (30 April 1931, 11 May 1931, 18 May 1931);

the construction of an incinerator and a building to house it (28 May 1931); the building of Beechnut

Playgrounds in the city (8 June 1931); and the construction of a new hospital on the recently absorbed

Hamilton Mountain (23 July 1931). Meeting of the City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1930, Minutes of

Hamilton Board of Control, 1930 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1931). These projects were completed largely with

unemployed labour. 55

Ibid.; Hamilton Spectator, “Pave Alleys as Relief Measure for Unemployed,” 16 September 1930;

Hamilton Spectator, “Proposals for Civic Work are Numerous,” 16 September 1930. 56

While these shoes enabled men to work, they were also mass-manufactured and easily identified as city-

supplied. Thus, while they were intended to give men an equal start, they resulted in a certain level of

snobbery, as those on relief were easily picked out by the visible marker of their shoes. Memoirs of

Gordon Harry Smith, author’s collection. 57

Report of the Public Welfare Board to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 25 July 1933.

63

cities.58

After extensive negotiations, it was agreed that the province would provide some money

to works projects dependent on its estimation of need.59

This came as no small relief to the city,

which by 1933 was carrying 8,149 families in its relief and welfare departments.60

However, in

order to cover later relief programs, the city did increase its tax rate – one and a half mills in

1931, two mills in 1932, and one and a half mills in 1935 – for an eventual 1935 rate of 38.5

mills.61

It also would later draw more debenture funds to cover shortages. For example, in 1935,

the city drew a debenture of $800,000 to balance the city’s previous relief overdrafts.62

Most of

this money went for relief labour on public works projects, which did not diverge significantly

from previous use of debenture funds to finance public works projects.

58 Hamilton Spectator, “Unemployment Meeting Will be Held Here,” 19 June 1931. Mayor Peebles was an

enthusiastic proponent of early municipal meetings to force the government’s hand, holding the first one of

the Depression in Hamilton when Toronto’s mayor was hesitant to join. This crisis of municipal relief has

been discussed extensively in the Canadian literature on the Depression, especially in local histories. See

Denyse Baillargeon, Making Do: Women, Family and Home in Montreal During the Great Depression,

Yvonne Klein, trans., Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1999; Margaret Little, No Car,

No Radio, No Liquor Permit: the Moral Regulation of Single Mothers in Ontario, 1920-1997 (Toronto:

Oxford University Press, 1998); James Struthers, No Fault of their Own: Unemployment and the Canadian

Welfare State, 1914-1941 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1983); James Struthers, The Limits of

Affluence: Welfare in Ontario, 1920-1970 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994); Eric Strikwerda,

The Wages of Relief: Cities and the Unemployed in Prairies Canada, 1929-1939 (Edmonton: Athabasca

University Press, 2013). 59

E.M. Whitby, “Report of the Mr. E.M. Whitby, Deputy City Engineer,” Annual Report of the City

Engineer, Hamilton, Ontario for these years 1931, 1932, and 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: City of Hamilton,

1933), 11-15, Engineering and Works Papers, RG-16, HRCH, HPL; E.M. Whitby, “Report of the Mr. E.M.

Whitby, Deputy City Engineer,” Annual Report of the City Engineer, Hamilton, Ontario for these years

1934, and 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: City of Hamilton, 1935), 9-11, Engineering and Works Papers, RG-16,

HRCH, HPL. 60

John Peebles, Mayor, speaking to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 25 April 1933. In order to accommodate growing numbers of

Hamiltonians on relief, the city had quickly adopted a rotary system of employment, especially for

positions they had open in the trades, under which any man who wanted to work would be given a set

number of hours (between 40 and 44 depending on the year), and then put back to the end of the list. This

rotation of skilled workers was adopted on all major civic projects, such as the construction of the Mount

Hamilton Hospital, the High School of Commerce, McMaster University, the incinerator building, and the

filtration plant. Meeting of the City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton Board of

Control, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 8 May 1932. 61

Estimated budget for 1931, presented by John Peebles, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council,

1931 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1931 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1932), 19 February 1931; Estimated

budget for 1932, presented by John Peebles, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1932, Minutes

of Hamilton City Council, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 8 March 1932; Estimated budget for 1935,

presented by Herbert Wilton, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1935 Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1936), 5 April 1935, 62

Estimated budget for 1929, presented by John Peebles, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council,

1929 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 28 February 1929,

64

While the city fathers thought that any job was a good job, those doing the jobs – some of

them former white collar workers – sometimes disagreed. In 1935, workers engaged by the city

went on strike for an adjustment to their working conditions, especially their hours and rate of

pay, which they considered to be barely at subsistence level.63

While the mayor was sympathetic

to their complaints, most of the working conditions for welfare work were ordained by the

province and the federal government, which by that point was paying for it almost exclusively.64

The strikers saw themselves as being unfairly exploited. They were doing jobs that had formerly

been well-paying and often involved working outside in unforgiving weather. In the case of the

construction of a new escarpment access route, they confronted dangerous conditions due to the

cliff-side work of levelling a new road, often with explosives. The city councillors and public

works department saw themselves as doing their best to help those willing to work. Indeed, by

1935 the city hardly had the money to maintain its sewers and road crews, let alone fund an

ambitious relief program.65

At this point, drastic solutions such as “back-to-the-land” movements

were even considered briefly as a means to move at least some of the unemployed from urban

63 Hamilton Spectator, “Men Engaged on Civic Relief Projects Strike,” 9 Jan 1935; Hamilton Spectator,

“Strike Among Relief Gangs Almost Ended,” 11 Jan 1935. Sam Lawrence, then sitting as an MLA was

able to negotiate an extra day’s pay with the Minister of Welfare. The city truly did not have the money on

hand itself to pay its growing workforce of relief workers more generously. These complaints, nonetheless,

were echoed repeatedly in the Board of Control’s meetings with the public. Deputations asked for changes

regularly including: “30 cent increase in food vouchers, a greater supply of blankets, supply of milk to all

on relief including adults, allowances for non[-con]sumable items such as dishes and crockery ware, supply

of light globes, coke supply when required, open vouchers for clothing to be honoured at any store, stoves

and more stove repairs, transportation of children to clothing centre, better medical attention.” Meeting of

the City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1934, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1934 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1935), 17 January 1934; Meeting of the City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1934, Minutes of

Hamilton Board of Control, 1934 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1935), 21 February 1934; Meeting of the City of

Hamilton, Board of Control, 1935, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1936),

23 January 1935. 64

Hamilton Spectator, “Eight-Hour Day for Relief Work,” 17 November 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Five-

Day Work Week is Sought From City,” 7 April 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Fair Wages, Fair Prices and

Work for Jobless Aims of Government,” 23 May 1934. 65

E.M. Whitby, Annual Report of the City Engineer, Hamilton, Ontario for these years 1934, and 1935, 9-

11, Engineering and Works Papers, RG-16, HRCH, HPL; Meeting of the City of Hamilton, Board of

Control, 1934, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1934 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1935), 15 January 1934

65

relief rolls.66

No matter where the money was coming from, who was getting it all came down to

one thing: were they worthy of support and willing to work?

Hamilton’s city council was not alone in establishing a hierarchy of needs for the poor

during the Depression.67

At the very least, according to the prevailing perspective, a man ought to

demonstrate his self-possession and independence by being willing to help himself. This system

was followed strictly at City Hall with detrimental effects. One relief recipient exclaimed that

hunger marchers, “sick of the capitalist system,” had been driven to demonstrations by the

mayor’s policies.68

This relief system did not extend to the city’s unemployed women who,

married or not, were largely excluded from labour relief, even as whole fields such as child care,

66 Ultimately, land settlement was considered to be not a good fit for many of Hamilton’s citizens on relief.

Most of those who found themselves unemployed had either moved to the city for its industrial prospects

from other manufacturing centres abroad or had spent their formative years in the city’s manufactories.

Given the land provision, training and equipment costs, and reduced market for agricultural produce, it was

widely considered by the city’s relief board and experts to be a more costly way of maintaining a family

than the current relief system. A study launched by McMaster University economist and professor William

Burton Hurd at the prompting of civic officials into the question concluded that most of them were not

actually from the “land,” or a rural region and so lacked the agricultural training and instinct necessary to

make farming a success. Additionally, Hurd noted that agricultural advancements and land shortages in the

last 50 years had been the main factors in driving young men off of farms in the first place, and that

creating additional farms would not remedy either of these pre-existing challenges. From an economic

perspective, the very tariffs that Conservatives so praised had resulted in Canada from being essentially cut

off from any nearby markets for agricultural products in the United States. Fruit was already sometimes

rotting in the fields in the Niagara region for lack of effective, speedy transportation to further markets, so

it was considered unlikely that additional food would make it to the nation’s hungry. He concluded that

“any attempt to materially relieve the urban unemployment situation by putting more people on the land

promises to prove a costly failure.” Speech by William Burton Hurd entitled “Land Settlement as a solution

for Urban Unemployment,” mid-to-late 1930s, box 1, File 6, William Burton Hurd fonds, WRDARC. For

information on the ideological origins of the “Back to the Land” movement, see Dawn Bowen, “‘Forward

to the Farm’: the Back-to-the-Land Movement as a relief initiative in Saskatchewan during the Great

Depression,” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Queen’s University, 1998); Dona Brown, Back to the Land: the Enduring

Dream of Self-Sufficiency in Modern America (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2011). 67

This approach, known as less eligibility, entailed making relief conditions less attractive than those of

even the most poorly-paid workers. It has been studied extensively by historians studying Depression-era

Ontario relief programs, and also the pre-welfare state distribution of public aid. See Raymond Benjamin

Blake, From Rights to Needs: A History of Family Allowances in Canada, 1929-1992 (Vancouver:

University of British Columbia Press, 2009); Nancy Christie, Engendering the State: Family, Work and

Welfare in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000); Little, No Car, No Radio, No Liquor

Permit; Struthers, No Fault of Their Own. 68

Letter to Mitchell Hepburn from Mrs. L. McCoy of Hamilton, 20 July 1934, RG 3-9-0-1051., Mitchell

Hepburn Correspondence files, AofO.

66

teaching, and nursing were decimated by cuts to public spending.69

They were expected to tend to

their families in this time of need, whether they had been doing so previously or not.70

In

September 1932, the province decreed that, as part of its relief packages to municipalities,

families must be investigated before they received monetary support. For Hamilton families, this

meant that some were rejected for relief who had previously been receiving it and many were left

to question why.71

Cases highlighted in the public often suggested discrimination against radicals,

and those unable (or, some said, unwilling) to work.

Laziness and unwillingness to work were perceived to be rife among Depression-afflicted

Hamiltonians.72

People were quick to impose negative labels on those they did not want included.

The attribute of laziness came to be swiftly associated with any group on the outside of society,

considered untrustworthy, or otherwise unreliable. Having any sort of discoverable vice could

cause one’s immediate eviction from the relief system. Addicts, gamblers, unwed mothers or

abandoned families, those considered work-shy, and sons over the age of sixteen who lived at

69 J.J. Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds Commission, Annual Report 1933,(Hamilton, Ontario: City of

Hamilton, 1934), Hamilton Playgrounds Commission papers, HRCH, HPL; J.J. Smye, Hamilton

Playgrounds Commission, Annual Report 1934,(Hamilton, Ontario: City of Hamilton, 1935), Hamilton

Playgrounds Commission papers, HRCH, HPL; Hamilton Herald, “Controllers Target of Irate Women

Residents,” 8 September 1932. 70

Employing married women especially remained a hot button issue throughout the Depression. Though

many former two-income families lost both incomes, the women were expected to return to work last, or

not at all. Hamilton Spectator, “Employed Married Women,” 25 September 1930. 71

Board of Control Report of Public Welfare to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 25 April 1933. 72

Hamilton Spectator, “Relief Labour,” 18 November 1931. In interviews conducted by Eddie Thomas for

his history of the CUPE Local 5, those who spoke about the Depression all remarked that having a job and

working was paramount, especially given the shame and fear associated with reporting in for relief

payments. These meetings included an assessment of spending and income that was often subjective and

described by those interviewed as harsh and belittling. People cherished private sector jobs, even if they

were reduced to only two or three shifts a week. Unfortunately the originals of these tapes are not

accessible, so the available transcripts have been used. Transcription by Eddie Thomas of Interview with

Albert Page regarding CUPE 5 and the Depression in Hamilton, 1990, Box 43, file 13, CUPE Local 5

fonds, WRDASC; Transcription by Eddie Thomas of Interview with Harry Hicks regarding the Depression,

early 1990s, Box 43, file 13, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC; Transcription by Eddie Thomas of

Interview with Mrs. Crawford regarding the depression, early 1990s, Box 43, file 13, CUPE Local 5 fonds,

WRDARC; Transcription by Eddie Thomas of Interview with Joe Cave regarding the Depression, early

1990s, Box 43, file 13, CUPE 5 fonds, WRDARC.

67

home, could all be found unworthy of relief.73

Their lives were made even more difficult by

admonishments to the public that Hamiltonians should not waste charity on vagrants because

official relief efforts allegedly made it “unnecessary for the deserving destitute to beg for

money.”74

Beggars were, hence, categorized as immoral or vicious. Thus these already

marginalized groups were further marginalized and deprived through their exclusion from official

forms of relief. A firm-and-fast line demarcated the worthy poor who were put there by the

accident of the Depression and those who sought to exploit the situation with their pre-existing

hardships. Who drew the line and how was a matter of politics.

While being on the fringes of Hamilton’s poor due to perceived vice was grim, it was

even worse to be ethnically foreign, either visibly or linguistically. In light of Hamilton’s growth

spurt in the 1920s it unsurprisingly had drawn a lot of immigrants. Also unsurprisingly, they met

with some of the worst hostility when they applied for relief. Letter writers complained that

Canadians were overlooked for skilled jobs in favour of foreigners, and that “at present we see

foreigners, after arriving a few days, go direct to work and the natives go hungry for work.”75

The

perception was widespread that these immigrants sent their money home not to fund their

families, but rather “to build up reserves for that happy day when they will return to enjoy the

fruits of labour.”76

This idea that immigrants were among the dreaded “transient” group, were

agitators for Communism, and, even worse, that they were planning to take Canadian money out

of the country, led to their treatment as highly undesirable relief recipients.77

This perception fed

73 Hamilton Spectator, “Civic Relief Department was Held Blameless,” 6 October 1930. Meeting of the

City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1935, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1935 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1936), 28 January 1935. Those who wanted increased rights as workers on relief projectshad to be

careful, because it was a short step from being a labour organizer to being work-shy in 1930s Hamilton. 74

Hamilton Spectator, “Beware Pan-Handlers,” 16 July 1932. 75

Hamilton Spectator, “Unemployment,” 15 August 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Unemployment,” 24 June

1931. In reality, transients could not claim relief in Hamilton and relief seekers had to prove residency in

the city, often dating back at least a year and, at points, even into pre-depression years. 76

Hamilton Spectator, “Aliens on Relief,” 14 May 1932. 77

Ibid.

68

the image held by City Council that relief to foreigners should be restricted, a policy that came to

be applied to non-English-speaking applicants irrespective of their citizenship status.78

No problem highlighted the question of the worthy poor more vividly than the city’s

unemployed veterans. Veterans had struggled throughout the period following World War I to

find meaningful long-term employment and were among those who suffered most during bouts of

seasonal and regular unemployment.79

It is thus not surprising that they were among the most

severely affected by the Depression. The language surrounding their relief points to the

importance of their past service and heroics, above those of other men, single or married. They

were “entitled” to relief, were “given the fullest consideration,” and finding them relief was “felt

[to be] important work.”80

One desperate letter writer, who identified himself as an ex-

serviceman, highlighted the common conception that having given their all, the veterans should

get something back:

This man does not complain because he did not receive a pension. He does not

complain that he is broken in health. He does not complain that some of his old

comrades who receive a small pension insufficient to live upon when they are

out of work are now being granted relief. But he does put his case in the

following words: ‘Don’t you think there should be something for the ones who

get nothing in case of need or when they are down and out of work?’81

Veterans honoured in Remembrance Day speeches and almost by definition categorized among

the “worthy poor,” nonetheless often fell through the cracks. Indeed, bachelorhood,

unemployment, and poverty pushed many of them into the realm of “unworthiness.” Many came

to be seen by respectable Hamilton as the “undeserving poor.”

78 Hamilton Herald, “Lawrence Charged With Wanting More for Communists,” 7 June 1932.

79 Struthers, No Fault of Their Own, 25-8.

80 Hamilton Spectator, “Veterans are Seeking Jobs,” 16 April 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Many War

Veterans Out of Employment,” 16 December 1929. 81

Dugland McLean, letter to the editor, “Unemployed Veterans Without Pension,” Hamilton Spectator, 23

December 1929.

69

The Tragedy of Municipal Deportation: Family Responsibility versus Public Charges

While the Hamilton civic government developed ways to cope both with the rising

numbers of unemployed men and the soaring relief costs, its programs had to walk the careful

line of adhering to liberal principles of self-determination and the work ethic without also

offending the city’s well-developed sense of charity. One such example of the dilemma the city

faced in reconciling these contradictory imperatives was the problem of municipal deportation.

Like all municipalities during the Depression, Hamilton was permitted under the Immigration Act

to deport public charges or the chronically unemployable.82

While it did so rarely, the dramatic

nature of these actions drew the public eye more suddenly than the other ongoing relief efforts of

the day.

The case of Alice Ainsworth, an alleged epileptic and public charge, was among the most

notable and telling of these events. Ainsworth had lived in Canada for eighteen years with her

parents and later with her husband and children. She had been hospitalized for a number of short

stays due to her epilepsy, for which she, on the advice of her doctors, had eventually sought a

cure at a private hospital in Woodstock.83

She was held there from the end of 1929 until her

deportation, and felt the treatment was not working. Her husband claimed both he and his wife

had repeatedly asked that she be sent home.84

Mr. Ainsworth was furious when his hospitalized

wife was ordered to be deported. Her case was made all the more dramatic by the simultaneous

deportation of a woman in her twenties named Alice Barton, another Hamilton epileptic who had

come to Canada as a child. She was sent back to England, unbeknownst to her parents. She had

82 Barbara Roberts, From Whence They Came: Deportation From Canada, 1900-1935 (Ottawa: University

of Ottawa Press, 1988), 160-165. 83

Hamilton Spectator, “Deportation Case More Complicated,” 31 October 1930; Hamilton Spectator,

“Deportation,” 1 November 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Failed to Notify Girl’s Relatives,” 4 November

1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Pathetic Story of Deportation Told in Bolton,” 11 November 1930. This case

was quite notable given the involvement of upper levels of government and the press and is mentioned

briefly in the Roberts text. Roberts, From Whence They Came, 161-2. 84

Ibid. Doctors claimed this was impossible because of her health and presented letters they had sent to Mr.

Ainsworth to that effect.

70

no family there.85

The two cases became front-page news and were heavily debated in both

council and among Hamilton’s elected representatives.

Mr. Ainsworth had appealed his wife’s deportation, both because he felt she was actually

fairly healthy and because she foresaw a future in which she would be abandoned, penniless, on

the dock in England like Barton.86

Upon hearing of her deportation he went immediately to his

City Councillor in Bolton, to which the family had moved, who then passed the case on to

Alderman Thomas Lewington in Hamilton, who brought it to City Council.87

The then-public

discussions of these deportations revealed that many opposed the deportation of these two women

only because of the duplicitous way in which their cases had been handled. They protested

against the denial of due British justice to these families. “However undesirable as citizens they

may be,” these deportees nonetheless should have been “given… the opportunity to appeal.”88

The focus on the need for fair process was echoed by Hamilton West MP Charles Bell, who was

called upon to investigate the cases on behalf of the federal government. While he concluded that

as epileptics these women had entered the country illegally, he also stated that without the

institution of proper appeal procedures, any family risked a similar fate. He felt this could only be

prevented by adhering to the law: “So long as there is machinery for an appeal tribunal to deal

85 Ibid.

86 Hamilton Spectator, “Failed to Notify Girl’s Relatives,” 4 November1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Pathetic

Story of Deportation Told in Bolton,” 11 November 1930. 87

In Hamilton, internal deportations were primarily the business of the Board of Control, the upper level of

city representation. Working with Ottawa, it coordinated the deportation of “public charges.” Most of the

cases it dealt with involved entire families who were deported together and had been in Hamilton for

shorter periods of time. In many cases later in the Depression, families would sometimes specifically ask to

be deported in hopes of finding jobs, or at least family back home, as then their passage home would be

paid for. The records included mention of numerous families given transportation expenses, “under the

usual conditions not to return here.” Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of

Hamilton Board of Control, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 23 May 1932; Meeting of City of Hamilton,

Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 30 May

1932; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1932

(Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 9 June 1932; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of

Hamilton Board of Control, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 18 August 1932; Meeting of City of

Hamilton, Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1932),

23 August 1932. 88

Hamilton Spectator, “Deportation,” 1 November 1930.

71

with the matter,” he argued, “no one has any right to prejudge it and say what the tribunal would

have done.”89

That these women had illegally hidden their epilepsy and thus falsely entered

Canada knowing they would become public charges was taken as a given, and deporting them for

those reasons was not an issue. Rather, there was a genuine concern that until order was applied

to appeals, and indeed to the British Naturalization Act, “[Any] man born in any part of the

British Isles can be deported… no matter how long he has lived in Canada.”90

What Hamilton’s

politicians deplored about the cases was that they were not in “accord with Canadian ideas of

justice.”91

In the cases of these two Hamilton women, many letter-writers also felt that these forced

deportations threatened the right of families to make their own personal decisions. Many who

weighed in reflected that if a family with a job and support system were willing to care for an

“incurable,” then it was their own business to decide what to do for them. Tearing apart the

family unit, viewed as a crucial component of society by all discussing welfare in Hamilton

during this period, was a great injustice.92

This was especially the case for Mrs. Ainsworth. Until

she went to the hospital to be cured, Mrs. Ainsworth had been, by all accounts, capably fulfilling

her role as a mother and homemaker. Her children were described as “pleasant” and her

homemaking skills called “excellent.” 93

Her deportation, not her illness, caused this family’s

distress. Given that during the Depression, married women were actively discouraged from

participating in the labour market, she was thus doing only what was to be expected of a

Depression-era mother. Many questioned the wisdom of breaking up such functioning families at

89 Hamilton Spectator, “Failed to Notify Girl’s Relatives,” 4 November 1930.

90 Hamilton Spectator, “Deportation,” 1 November 1930. Under the British Naturalization Act, British

citizens retained their British citizenship, unlike other immigrants who could become naturalized

Canadians. This loophole allowed these women to be deported as British citizens, not naturalized

Canadians. Later, concessions were made for public charges who had been in Canada for most of their

lives, though these concessions included more hasty deportations of public charges early on. Letter from

Howard Ferguson, High Commissioner for Canada in London, to George Henry regarding municipal

deportation cases, 23 April 1931, RG-3-8-0-83, George Hepburn General Correspondence fonds, AofO. 91

Hamilton Spectator, “Failed to Notify Girl’s Relatives,” 4 November 1930. 92

Ibid. 93

Hamilton Spectator, “Pathetic Story of Deportation Told in Bolton,” 11 November 1930.

72

a time when many poverty-stricken families were already suffering. Similarly, Barton’s

innocence and femininity were used to highlight her unsuitability for the rough world of London.

Luckily for other epileptics and ‘public charges,’ the uproar surrounding these deportations put a

stop to Hamilton’s run of municipal, non-political deportations.94

The scandal of deporting two

seemingly worthy British women due to no fault of their own, thereby interrupting the natural

family order, was too much even for a Hamilton in crisis.95

Indeed, Hamilton’s middle-class citizens’ spirit of charity persisted in the early years of

the Depression. To be uncharitable was to selfishly ignore the rest of the community, as the

Spectator cautioned: “There are many tightwads in this country who contributed very little to its

advancement even when times were prosperous, concealing their parsimony as best they could,

who now strut about among the genuinely impoverished parading their closeness as necessary

self-denial.”96

In spite of a lack of available funds, fundraising efforts continued as usual,

especially for the ill. Polio and tuberculosis campaigns, and any sort of sick children’s group,

were still able to draw in attention and funds. Even groups whose mandates had traditionally

included a broader social focus were attentive to the needs of the many during the Depression.

The Dickens Fellowship, living up to the moralistic tone of its hero’s novels, turned their

charitable efforts specifically to the city’s poor. Through a fundraising drive in the name of Tiny

94 Roberts, From Whence They Came, 160-166. As discussed in Roberts’s text, political and criminal

deportations increased during the Depression. When countries of origin could be found, the accused were

quickly dispatched with only summary hearings and no support for their cases. Hamilton continued this

practice as well, especially for criminals. Given the institution of Section 98 by the federal government, it

was exceptionally easy to get rid of unwanted political dissidents by sending them back to their countries of

origin, even if they had left these “national homelands” as children. Section 98 of the Criminal Code was

added after the Winnipeg General Strike in order to provide the government with a legal mechanism

through which to repress seditious revolutionary activities. John Manley, “Audacity, Audacity, Still More

Audacity’: Tim Buck, the Party, and the People, 1932-1939,” Labour/ Le Travail 49 (Spring 2002): 9. 95

This spirit of charity only extended to worthy deportees. Deportees who were not perceived to be good,

moral, or exemplary characters were deported without hesitation. For example, Harry Harvey Wood had

deserted his wife and children in England, coming to Hamilton in February 1930 claiming to be a single

man. “In view of his selfish and shameful actions toward unmarried women, favourable consideration

could not extend to any request for a suspension of the deportation.” Letter from the Ministry of

Immigration and Colonization to George Henry regarding municipal deportation cases, 22 September 1931,

RG-3-8-0-83, George Hepburn General Correspondence fonds, AofO. 96

Hamilton Spectator, “‘Work’,” 9 November 1932.

73

Tim, the organization worked to send ill and underweight children to summer camp.97

Only

urgent cases were taken on, in spite of the fact that the organization was aware that the need was

much greater among Hamilton’s poor. It also expanded its Christmas giving efforts to include

more families. Even the homeless men who were out on the street did their part “exemplifying the

truth of the adage that charity begins at home.”98

They headed up clothing drives and charity

concerts to support single unemployed men, who like themselves could not get relief work

consistently and were thus reliant on individual acts of kindness or extra-government

organizations such as the Salvation Army.99

Such forms of individual charity included small

businesses giving haircuts, boots, groceries, and clothing to those most in need.100

These small

charitable acts were praised. They did not complicate the widespread acceptance of less

eligibility. Many respectable Hamiltonians believed that free-standing citizens should take care of

their families privately.

97 General letter to the Hamilton membership from the organization’s president regarding the 100th

anniversary of Dickens Fellowship, 1 April 1936, Box 1, file 1, Dickens Fellowship of Hamilton fonds,

WRDARC. 98

Hamilton Spectator, “Many Helping Unemployed in Various Ways,” 1 December 1930. As part of their

relief program, the city tried to keep as many families as possible in the homes they lived in, paying rent

allowances to over 4,100 families in 1933 and reducing relief-related evictions to zero for July 1933.

However, this form of relief was only accorded to families with a man able to work. Single men had to

resort to municipal housing if their rent fell into arrears, and were expected to work for this privilege. John

Peebles, Mayor, Report of the Public Welfare Board of the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes

of Hamilton City Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 25 July 1933. 99

While the city did become involved in relief in some limited capacities, ultimately it was overwhelmed

by demand elsewhere and was forced to short staff the cases that were considered less urgent or less

worthy. As J.M. Pigott notes in his diary, in these cases private enterprise again stepped in to fill the gap.

As part of the Welfare Board, he helped organize the Lion’s Club to run a soup kitchen that fed numbers in

the hundreds. J.M. Pigott, page 182, condensed diaries, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds, WRDARC. Single

men were granted occasional support through the Municipal Lodging house (which was consistently over

its 220-bed capacity), and a grocery allowance of a dollar. At varying times during the Depression, this

relief was given in exchange for cutting wood, street sweeping, or working the city’s 25-acre potato field,

and the program remained over capacity until it ceased to operate in 1937, when it was determined that

employment conditions had returned to a state in which men should not need public support and that those

who remained in the program were not looking hard enough for jobs. John Peebles, Mayor, Report of the

Public Welfare Board to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1937, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1937

(Hamilton, Ontario: 1938), 27 July 1937. 100

Hamilton Spectator, “Men with Jobs to Assist Unemployed,” 14 May 1932; Hamilton Spectator, “Free

Hair Cuts for Unemployed,” 12 December 1930.

74

In fact, during the Depression this spirit of communal giving spread from Hamilton’s

most established residents to its youngest. As part of the playground program, Nora-Frances

Henderson, the women’s editor for the Hamilton Herald, challenged youngsters across the city to

collect potatoes and other vegetables for distribution through the city’s relief department.101

This

exercise was not only designed to fill the city’s kitchens – though it did garner 45 bushels of

potatoes, in addition to 27 baskets of other assorted produce – but also “[had] significance for [the

children]… of deeper import than that involved in purely material considerations,” in that they

learned to “aid the unfortunate of the community.” 102

The Playground Commission’s goal of

teaching citizenship through play was thus fulfilled. Even children with few resources could be

encouraged to share what they had.103

101 J.J. Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds Commission, Annual Report 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: City of

Hamilton, 1932), Hamilton Playgrounds Association Papers, HRCH, HPL. Hamilton’s Playgrounds

Association began as a citizen’s organization in 1907, spearheaded mainly by such wealthy women as Lady

Gibson, and Mrs. Frances Woolverton as an arm of the Local Council of Women. Land and staffing was

granted by the city on the condition that the Association would provide the equipment and maintain the

spaces. While it was initially “difficult to convince people of Hamilton that their beautiful tree-shaded city

needed playgrounds for its children,” by 1931 they were seen as a necessity by the city, who formalized

their relationship with the Association by terminating it and creating the city-overseen Hamilton

Playgrounds Commission. Souvenir Number of the Hamilton Playgrounds Association: An Historical

Review, 1931, Hamilton Playground Commission Papers, series B, HRCH, HPL. 102

J.J. Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds Commission, Annual Report 1932, Hamilton Playgrounds Association

Papers, HRCH, HPL. These donations were drawn from food drives across the city, charging one potato for

admission to baseball games and other “entertainments.” In addition to teaching citizenship, the playground

program also recognized its value in providing an opportunity to gather children to receive health services

and checkups, and provide them with an opportunity to be active and learn skills such as self-confidence,

good character and an open nature considered necessary for “building a better race.” To these ends, the city

temporarily extended their programs at the height of the Depression to “unemployed people in the ages of

16 and 24 years of age.” Asking for potatoes was also easier than asking for money as the city and the

Chamber of Commerce had made garden plots available to families in 1933 at the cost of no more than

$1.75 a year, allowing families to produce the food they could not buy with their grocery vouchers. Report

of the Public Welfare Commissioner to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 30 May 1933. 103

While records were not consistently kept for these organizations, teaching good citizenship, and

particularly good Christian citizenship, was also emphasized in the United Church of Canada’s Sunday

school curriculum. Delta United Teachers and Officers Meetings Sabbath/ Sunday School Records and

Minutes book 1929-1944, box 15, file 2, Delta United Church, Hamilton collection, United Church of

Canada Archives, Toronto (UCCA). However it was also suggested to them that “ill advised giving may be

laying the foundations of pauperism in a family that formerly stood on its own feet.” Even in the church

one thus found the application of the dichotomous “deserving/ undeserving” categories. Comments about

Christmas Giving by the Family Service Bureau of Hamilton, December 1936, Box 16, File 2, Delta United

Church, Hamilton collection, UCCA.

75

Anything But Conservative: Lawrence and the CCF Win Hamilton’s Support

As mentioned previously, Sam Lawrence, Hamilton’s main man for the ILP, did not

always see eye to eye with his fellow councillors. As Lawrence was venting his frustrations with

Hamilton’s Depression-era inefficiency, socialist leader J.S. Woodsworth was himself dreaming

in Parliament of a way to better address the inequities of capitalism.104

His solution was the

formation of the CCF, a party whose message resonated with Lawrence’s interests and socialist

leanings. Lawrence joined the party when it established a local club in early 1933.105

After the

provincial election was announced, on 30 April 1934 the CCF decided to contest all four ridings

in Hamilton, and the Liberal Party announced that it would not run a candidate so that Lawrence

and the Conservative Member of Provincial Parliament, William Morrison, could contest the seat

without vote splitting.106

Recognizing that a known and popular local politician would likely split

the anti-Ferguson vote, the Liberals thought it was wisest to let Lawrence run unopposed.

Running on the CCF’s election manifesto for the overall “establishment in Canada of a socialized

and planned economy, in which the principle regulating production, distribution and exchange is

service and not profit,” Lawrence hit the Hamilton campaign path, holding numerous speeches

and organization meetings extolling the virtues of socialism.107

“Labor’s Friend Lawrence”

promised “to carry [the workers’] fight to the Legislature.”108

He ran on the CCF official

provincial platform which included increased social support for those unemployed both

104 For more detailed analysis and further information on the CCF nationally and in Ontario during this

period, see Ivan Avakumovic, Socialism in Canada: A Study of the CCF-NDP in Federal and Provincial

Politics (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1978); Gerald Caplan, The Dilemma of Canadian Socialism:

The CCF in Ontario (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1973); Norman Penner, The Canadian Left: A

Critical Analysis (Scarborough: Prentice-Hall of Canada, 1977); Alan Whitehorn, Canadian Socialism:

Essays on the CCF-NDP (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1992); Walter D. Young, The Anatomy of a

Party: The National CCF, 1932-61 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1969). 105

Hamilton Herald, “CCF Choice for Civic Seats,” 18 October 1933. 106

Hamilton Spectator “Preparations for Contest Under Way,” 30 April 1934; Hamilton Herald, “Liberals

Not Putting Man in East Riding,” 4 June 1934; Hamilton Spectator “Lawrence Asks Supporters to Battle

Fairly,” 29 May 1934; Hamilton Spectator, “Beer Cannot Win Election,” 5 June 1934; Hamilton Herald,

“East Hamilton is Site of Four-Cornered Run,” 12 June 1934. 107

Labor News, “CCF Issues its Election Manifesto,” 23 May 1934. 108

Campaign Pamphlet, “Labor’s Friend Lawrence,” summer 1934, box 1, file 1, Charles Pollicott fonds,

Queen’s University Archives, Kingston Ontario (QUA).

76

temporarily or permanently, the socialization of universities, hospitals, banks, and hydro, and an

immediate halt to evictions across the province.

Lawrence’s hard work as a councillor and the fervent support of the ILP paid off and he

was ultimately successful, as were Mitchell Hepburn’s Liberals in overthrowing Ferguson’s

Conservative government. As his campaign pamphlet pointed out, he did after all have a long

record of service as an alderman and controller and, beyond even that, had devoted 37 years of

his life to the labour movement. “Lawrence is synonymous with service,” he reassured the public,

“[his] is a record that speaks for itself.”109

However, while Lawrence was considered a well-liked

man, the support of the ILP, and for that matter the rest of his Anything But Conservative

backers, was crucial to his success. The Labor News, the ILP’s official voice in the city, gave him

glowing reviews, describing him as “a square-shooter and sincere and conscientious,” one who

“works like a Trojan for those who toil,” and above all “a worthy successor to the late Allan

Studholme, Ontario’s first Labor representative to sit in the legislature.”110

They supported him

unequivocally, advising voters that “It behoves East Hamilton trade unionists and Labor Party

members to… strive every effort to put Candidate Lawrence ‘Over the Top.’”111

While Hamilton

was the first Ontario municipality to elect a CCF member, this was more based on personality

politics than socialism and highlighted a deep divide between old labour and the new left during

the Depression.

“Organization,” announced the Canadian Labor World, a publication of the Hamilton

Trades and Labour Council (TLC), linked in turn to the American Federation of Labor (AFL),

Was the weapon of defense against unjust and cruel task masters. Mass action

was the only way to secure redress for their many grievances... Help Organized

109 Ibid. Emphasis in the original.

110 Labor News, “Candidate Lawrence,” 15 June 1934.

111 Ibid. While East Hamilton here refers to the riding in which Lawrence was running. He also found the

core of his support in Wards Five, Six, Seven, and Eight. These north and east Wards were more recently

developed and thus were populated by more recent immigrants. They also bordered the harbour and its

factories and thus were home to many of the people who worked there, especially those who could not

afford to commute to work.

77

Labor to be better equipped. Let organization be the slogan, and the union label

our banner and nothing can defeat us in our struggle for better conditions for the

workers.112

This mantra of ‘organization above all’ represented the philosophy of Hamilton’s established

labour movement to a tee. The party and movement fiercely rejected Communism, and suggested

that only through union organization and solidarity could real gains be achieved. It was a stance

the ILP worked hard to enforce, especially in the labour council.113

“When we, in Canada, are

called upon… to consider such problems as that of doing business with the Soviets and of

tolerating the propaganda in Canada of Communist bodies,” the Canadian Labor World advised

its readers, “it is well to remember that… the Third International, in turn, fosters and encourages

the propaganda of Communist bodies in Montreal, Toronto, New York and elsewhere.”114

Hamilton’s unionist labour politicians shaped Hamilton’s labourist political identity. It was one

that was much closer to liberalism than to Communism. Even a man as esteemed as Lawrence

was wise to remember the movement’s profound moderation.

The ILP remained largely a local party throughout this period, removed from more

centralized organizations as it had been since its inauguration. Projects like roadwork and the

construction of a new high level bridge were seen by the ILP as opportunities to create jobs and

safeguard civic coffers in a period of low construction costs.115

Hamilton’s Conservative council

elites and industrial financiers saw industry and consumption as key to their way of life and

municipal identity and pride. Most trade unionists hailed such industries as milestones on the path

to progress. They were not separated from the Conservatives by a deep ideological chasm.

112 Canadian Labor World, “Organization,” 27 February 1930.

113 Communists in general were barred from entrance to the labour temple in January 1929 after a proposal

was put forth asking that they not be allowed to use the space any more. With the exception of Lawrence,

who voted against the proposal, it was passed unanimously, with the conclusion that “Communism was a

menace to the International trade union movement and more than anybody else had helped to destroy the

political labor movement in Hamilton.” Hamilton Herald, “Communists Barred from Labor Temple,” 19

January 1929. 114

Canadian Labor World, “Communistic Views,” 30 April 1931. 115

Hamilton Spectator, “Time to Build,” 3 September 1931,

78

Craft unions had a long history in Hamilton. Its first union had been founded as early as

1827, and by the 1830s it was home to a Typographical Society, as well as unions for tailors,

shoemakers, and foundry workers.116

During the first decades of organizing activity, these groups

were often quite small, and numbered no more than a few dozen members each. By the 1870s,

these groups had grown and become more organized, culminating in Hamilton’s notable

participation in the nine-hour-day protests of that decade.117

This growth was driven, in part, by a

significant expansion in the numbers of workers employed in factories, a 52% increase over the

seven years between 1864 and 1871. In this growing economy, small and large manufactories co-

existed, with variations by industry.118

Self-employed craftworkers were not unusual even in this

period. There were less than a dozen work stoppages in these early years.119

In spite of the variety and varied size of workplaces in the city, organization really took

off around the nine-hour-day movement. Begun in 1872, the movement was based in the city and

grew out of the increasing number of workers experiencing such a variety of workplace

conditions. “A massive parade of craftworkers [that was] held on 15 May 1872 [and] virtually

shut down industrial production in the city” was the most dramatic sign of this movement.120

At

least one third of the parade’s 3,000 participants were thought to be members of a union. As

many as eighteen percent of the city’s workers were locked out or on strike at one point.121

Following on the heels of the nine-hour movement, the Knights of Labor gained early support

there as well.122

By 1885, Hamilton had nine Knights of Labor Local Assemblies, and while most

116 Eugene Forsey Trade Unions in Canada, 1812-1902 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982), 16-

18, 32-4. 117

Palmer, A Culture in Conflict, 16-18. Kristofferson elaborates on these numbers, providing a table

which details industrial employment in the city in 1871. Kristofferson, Craft Capitalism, 26-31. 118

Kristofferson, Craft Capitalism, 50-52. 119

Ibid., 202. 120

Ibid., 213. 121

Ibid., 215. Kristoferrson notes that the growth of the nine-hour issue in the city at this point is interesting

because over 30 per cent of the city’s workers already worked nine hours or less a day. 122

Ibid., 201-204.

79

had 200 members, one had as many as 600.123

By the 1880s, a parade for the Knights of Labor

drew 2,000 people, many of whom marched under craft union banners.124

The Knights of Labor

gradually dwindled in the latter part of the nineteenth century, but the union tradition remained

strong in Hamilton. While industrial unionism was slow to take off in the city, craft unions, part

of the landscape for almost a century by the 1920s, remained a potent part of the labour and

political scene.

The ILP, initially a bastion of craft unions, got off to an early start in Hamilton in 1906. It

spread further through the city’s continued industrial growth and expanding immigrant

population, especially among the British Labour Party faithful. By 1920 it claimed 1,000

members.125

In spite of the city’s largely Conservative electoral record, in 1906 Allan Studholme,

a Hamilton stove mounter, member of the Knights of Labor, and active supporter of a recent and

tumultuous streetcar strike, was elected to the Ontario legislature as a representative of the ILP, a

seat he held until his death sixteen years later.126

From this time forward the ILP played a

significant, though minority, role in Hamilton politics and on city council. The party focused its

efforts chiefly and primarily on organizing the workers of Hamilton into trade unions, so that

through organization they could push for their rights. Among the tenets of a good, traditional

labour party (exemplified, said the Herald, by the ILP) was a devotion to trade unionism as a

means of effecting change, a “tradition of service and sacrifice,” and “loyal[ty] to the public.”127

They supported union-management cooperation as “a practical method of increasing efficiency so

123 Gregory S. Kealey and Bryan D. Palmer, Dreaming of What Might Be: The Knights of Labor in

Ontario, 1880-1900 (Cambridge, United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 138-142. The

number and structure of these Local Assemblies would change over the years. For a more detailed analysis

see Palmer, A Culture in Conflict, 153-165. 124

Ibid., 57. 125

James. Naylor, The New Democracy: Challenging the Social Order in Industrial Ontario, 1914-1925

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991), 218. 126

For greater detail on Studholme and further information on the early years of Hamilton’s political

divisions see: Heron, “Working-Class Hamilton”; Palmer, A Culture in Conflict, xiii-xv 127

Hamilton Herald, “The Election,” 3 December 1929. The Hamilton ILP had separated themselves from

“the ‘old, reactionary parties’,” prior to the 1917 Federal Election. It was a stance they preserved until their

alliance with the CCF. Naylor, The New Democracy, 97.

80

that both stock-owners and [workers] profited.”128

As an editorial in the Canadian Labor World

asserted,

Unions have demonstrated their dependability, their concern for standards of

good workmanship, the value of their cooperation in meeting every day

problems of work and discipline as well as emergency crisis. Good-will rests

upon service and mutual confidence… one of the best policies that a new union

can follow is to demonstrate to the employer that organization brings a new and

vital force to the problem of work and joint relations.129

These attitudes were, in part, a response to the frustration many members had felt with the early

lack of progress the party had made on big issues. As Craig Heron describes it, “By the 1920s, it

seems, Hamilton workers had retreated back to the private, informal world of the home and

neighbourhood... whose dominant tone was ‘not one of political combativity, but of an enclosed

and defensive conservatism.’ They retained a brittle sense of class identity… but they lived

within a framework which limited their horizons and discouraged class conflict.”130

Many of its

members were British and the candidates who ran in elections were almost always prominent

members of a craft union, such as Lawrence, Mitchell, or Studholme, all of whom had had

successful involvement in the union movement prior to election. While the ILP’s practice in city

council was to champion the interests of Hamilton’s workers, its newspaper, the Labor News, and

the Hamilton District Labour Council (HDLC)’s publication, the Canadian Labor World,

reflected a more national and international view of labour and workers’ rights.

Inspired by the British labour parties, the ILP represented craft and later commercial

workers who realized unionism could improve their working lives.131

Such Labourites made

earnest attempts to improve the lot of the workingman through (in Heron’s words) a “rigorously

democratic ethos,” a “community-based focus,” and the use of unionization as a complement to a

128 Canadian Labor World, “Proof of Union-Management Cooperation,” 25 September 1930.

129 Canadian Labor World, “Good-Will - - A Union Asset,” 26 March 1931.

130 Heron, “Working-Class Hamilton,” 725.

131 Heron, “Labourism,” 334.

81

“limited use of the state to right social wrongs.”132

As James Naylor remarks, they focused on

building successful trade unions, rather than mounting a challenge to the liberal order based on

their “collective economic power.”133

Thus, when Hamilton’s workers did go on strike, the ILP

supported them so long as they obeyed the law.134

The AFL, ILP, and HDLC joint publication,

the Canadian Labor World, explicitly outlined this position in a ringing statement of principles:

1. We stand for the best interests of the working people; 2 We are emphatically

opposed to violence and intimidation at all times; 3. We are Opposed to the

Industrial Workers of the World, the One Big Union, the Communist Party of

Canada and their methods; 4. We are opposed to Socialism as impractical and

Bolshevism as un-Canadian, and not being in accord with the policy of the

Trades and Labor Congress of Canada; 5. We believe in the settlement of labor

disputes by peaceful and conciliatory methods; 6. We believe in the mutuality

of interest of all persons in industry and are opposed to those destructive forces

that would decrease production at the expense of labor.135

This platform outlined the expectations for an ideal labourer, and labour party, in the political

sphere of Hamilton. To support labour as a political movement did not mean, and could even be

seen as antithetical to, conceiving of the working class as a distinct force with its own interests.

The ILP’s imagined Hamilton was, in truth, a deeply liberal community.

A labour party, then-Alderman Humphrey Mitchell advised the new Brantford Labour

Party, should exemplify above all “devotedness and downright honest Labor principles… [it]

must reflect the needs of the masses,” and have “a carefully constructed policy… it was better to

132 Ibid., 335.

133 Naylor, The New Democracy, 8-9.

134 Due to the flourishing job market of the 1920s and the subsequent desperation of the 1930s, strikes in

Hamilton during this period were truly rare. In February of 1929, spinners at the Canadian Cottons Limited

mill struck due to a speedup following an efficiency review at the plant. At first the workers were praised

for their organization to ensure a safe workplace, and their resistance to local representatives of the

Communist Party (CPC) who tried to infiltrate the strike (or perhaps, others said, just hand out pamphlets)

but were “speedily discouraged.” However, as in a later strike that year at the National Steel Car Plant,

when workers turned to illegal tactics such as intimidation and physical abuse, their criminal actions turned

public opinion, including that of the ILP, against them. In cases such as these, Hamilton’s mainstream

labourites were quick to separate themselves from radicalism. Hamilton Spectator, “Striker at Car Plant is

Found Guilty By Court,” 20 September 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Strikers Still Out; Pickets on Duty at

Plant,” 1 February 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Textile Strike Still is Waged,” 9 February 1929. For more

background on Communist involvement in the strike, see John Manley, “Communism and the Working

Class during the Great Depression: The Workers’ Unity League, 1930-1936,” (PhD Dissertation, Dalhousie

University, 1981), 100-124. 135

Canadian Labor World, “Our Platform,” 26 March 1931.

82

move only to the attainable, the practicable, and policies easily understood by the people.”136

In

1929, the success of the labour party was measured almost entirely by increasing numbers of

trade unions and their practical successes.137

Labourites did not aspire to transform Hamilton

from top to bottom. They aimed to organize the appropriate workers and to hold a few seats on

council and the Board of Control. In fact, the party even took a more moderate approach to

running for these elected positions. It desisted from fielding a whole slate.138

It was felt that

serving in this minority capacity would give the ILPers a gentle but forceful presence on council

through which they could effectively express the desires of the moderate working class, which

fortunately often aligned with those of middle-class reform groups. These political victories for

labour – council victories for John and Humphrey Mitchell and Sam Lawrence, and the school

board triumph of Agnes Sharpe – complemented Hamilton labour’s workplace strategies.139

The ILP’s moderate policies were best exemplified by Humphrey Mitchell and his

successful run for Parliament in the East Hamilton riding. “Honest Humph,” like Lawrence,

began his career as a councillor, serving from 1929 until his election to Parliament in 1931.140

Also like Lawrence, he had immigrated to the city as a young man to work in the city’s factories

136 Labor News, “Hamilton Laborites Addressed the Newly Organized Brantford Labor Party,” 28 April

1929. 137

Hamilton Spectator, “Year of Activity is Shown for Labor Movement in City,” 14 December 1929. 138

Hamilton Herald, “Labor Party May Contest East Riding,” 10 May 1930. Given the money and energy

election campaigns demanded, focusing on particular areas constituted a far wiser use of the party’s limited

resources. Even members conceded that they lacked the numbers to back sustained efforts in federal and

provincial elections. The tactic did prompt some frustration from the party’s membership, as one member

declared, “‘We might as well shut up shop if the political labor movement has to wait until it gets rich.’”

Labor News, “Labor Party Stays Out of Field in East Hamilton,” 27 June 1930; “Secretary’s Report of

Provincial Council Meeting,” Box 29, 18 August 1934, Ontario New Democratic Party fonds, QUA. 139

The eventual split between the ILP and the CCF in some ways solidified divisions within the party that

already existed. Sharpe and Lawrence quickly joined the CCF, while others lingered with the ILP or

retreated to participating solely in unions and other labour organizations. Sharpe was by far one of the most

radical ILP members and fought against things like cadet training in schools, the presentation of the Union

Jack to schools on Empire Day, Empire Day itself, the singing of the British national anthem in schools,

and, in her words, “anything of a militaristic nature.” Given the popularity of Britishness in Hamilton, this

was both a surprising and radical stance. She will be discussed at length later in this dissertation. Hamilton

Spectator, “Refuses to Sing National Anthem,” 19 May 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Against Militarism,

Mrs. Sharpe States,” 20 May 1931. 140

Labor News, “Chances Bright for Mitchell,” 22 May 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Labor Forces Won

Decisive Victory,” 11 August 1931

83

and had rapidly become involved in its budding labour movement and the ILP. He was well liked

and considered a generally appealing candidate for the ILP. His record as a politician was also

impeccable. As the Labor News proclaimed, “Regardless of some of the fairy tales and election

canards that are being whispered by… Conservative electioneers in the East Hamilton riding, the

fact remains that the finger of scorn cannot be pointed at Candidate Mitchell. He is the people’s

candidate and outspoken exponent of the toilers.”141

He was exceptionally focused on the creation

of a respectable, and thus perhaps respected, working-class movement. Influenced by the ideals of

respectability and decorum characteristic of many unions in Britain, Mitchell recognized that an

open, legitimate movement was greatly to be preferred to one content to “hide away in any old

ramshackle place.”142

Mitchell exemplified respectability by refusing to play the same political game that was

the style of his opponent, M.M. Robinson. As Mitchell’s political record was blameless, both as a

labour organizer and a city councillor, Robinson often resorted to personal attacks, implying that

a dishonest and unprincipled Mitchell was incompetent to stand for federal office. Mitchell wisely

recognized that openly stating he would not engage in name-calling was easier than slinging mud

himself.143

He further used the opportunity to point out another desired character trait he

possessed: Britishness. He responded that he “was reared where good sportsmanship was

taught… The British Empire.”144

Thus he sportingly disdained to mention even his opponent’s

name in his campaign material. The Spectator printed this high-minded declaration alongside two

141 Labor News, “Victory for Candidate Mitchell in Hamilton East Seems Certain,” 31 July 1931.

142 Labor News, “Hamilton Laborites Addressed the Newly Organized Brantford Labor Party,” 28 April

1929. 143

While Mitchell himself avoided mentioning Robinson, he hardly had to. He often shared the bill with

politicians known to be bad-tempered, such as Sam Lawrence, Jack O’Reilly (a member of the ILP), and

John Mitchell (no relation). Either following or preceding Mitchell, they freely insulted Robinson, calling

him “the ‘Judas Iscariot of Hamilton,” or a traitor to his fellow pressmen. While on the same bill at

campaign meetings, this allowed Mitchell to come away looking even calmer and cleaner when compared

to ‘real’ radicals. Unlike Mitchell, Lawrence struggled continually to distance himself from claims he had a

“red tint” to his politics. Hamilton Spectator, “Trades Council Giving Support,” 1 August 1931. Hamilton

Spectator, “Bitter Words Mark Speeches of Laborites,” 5 August 1931. 144

Hamilton Spectator, “Three candidates to Contest Riding,” 4 August 1931.

84

columns of Robinson’s vitriolic attack on Mitchell. To add further insult to injury, Mitchell also

mentioned that he, unlike Robinson, was a veteran accustomed to serving his country.

The few insults hurled at Mitchell during his candidacy by outside bodies were reflective

of those hurled at other labour politicians at the time. Because of his self-created image as the

reasonable labour politician, such mud did not stick. His detractors were, in fact, immediately

rebuked by factual reports in his campaign ads. It was suggested that he was a radical, possibly

with “Communistic views,” and not really attached to “Old Country folk, in whom the sense of

British fair play is inherent.” 145

Both allegations were countered by evidence of Mitchell’s

military service, British heritage, and moderation. His voting record as a city councillor was that

of a middle-of-the-road labourite. In one of the lowest moments of the campaign, a Spectator

reporter attributed to Mitchell the comment: “If he [Premier Henry] strains the patience of the

working class, will he be able to deal with them by machine guns?” Here, the paper implied, was

the radical, Labourite firebrand everyone so feared, a man so fanatical that he conflated the

Conservatives with criminals or fascists.146

The comment had actually been made by John

Mitchell, a radical Scottish immigrant politician, at the HDLC meeting after Humphrey Mitchell

had left the building. The Spectator’s retraction appeared on the front page of the local news

section.147

The ILP, through its experience as a major player in civic election campaigns, knew what

to tell the electorate in a campaign. The “People’s Candidate” emphasized his “[proud] record in

the International Trade Union movement,” his practical work as a councillor to “Cure

Unemployment,” and his sweeping platform on social security reforms for workers, the aged and

145 Hamilton Spectator, “Three Candidates, 4 Aug 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Choice Simplified,” 7

August 1931. 146

Hamilton Spectator, “Statement Not Made by Candidate,” 8 August 1931. 147

The problem of the two labour-affiliated Mitchells continued to haunt him when they both ran for

election as councillors and controllers in Hamilton East. Perhaps half-seriously the Spectator joked that it

was unlikely the population would remember which one to choose.

85

sick, the permanently disabled, and ex-servicemen.148

These promises were supported by his

ongoing involvement with Hamilton’s TLC and his actions during his admittedly short time on

council. Mitchell’s platform appealed to many outside the working class, as the party newspaper

noted:

He… is meeting with the hearty approval of all classes regardless of political

affiliation. He is regarded as one of the best standard bearers chosen to carry

Labor’s banner in Hamilton’s long political history. From the time he donned

political armour and entered the City Council as Labor Alderman… he has

endeared himself to civic representatives and municipal officials.149

A likeable war veteran, Mitchell could flourish his record of service to the public as further

evidence of his commitment to the people: “During the Great War he did his bit for democracy.

He can be relied upon to do his duty for democracy at Ottawa.”150

Despite the ongoing opposition to and vehement campaigns against Mitchell by the

editors of the politically conservative Spectator, after his victory even they conceded his virtues

as one of the more liberally-minded labour politicians in Hamilton:

[he] fought a clean campaign and was at pains to repudiate any suggestion of

radical tendencies. He promises to uphold the highest constitutional standards

and to work for the best interests not only of the constituency he represent, but

the Empire at large. His successful career in local administrative circles gives

promise of useful service in the wider political sphere which he has attained…

What is good for industry as a whole is obviously good for the workers who are

dependent upon industrial prosperity for their comfort and prosperity… The

entire world is suffering from an acute industrial slump, which demands heroic

measures and the co-operation of all classes for its remedy.151

The first person to defeat a Conservative in a federal election in Hamilton since 1898, Mitchell

was given the backhanded praise that he was probably the right man for the times. Even

Hamilton’s Conservatives had not been sufficiently alarmed by Mitchell to turn out in requisite

148 Labor News, “Chances Bright for Mitchell,” 22 May 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Labor Forces Won

Decisive Victory,” 11 August 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Vote for Humanity,”8 August 1931. 149

Labor News, “Chances Bright for Mitchell,” 22 May 1931. 150

Labor News, “A Splendid Triumph,” 28 August 1931. 151

Hamilton Spectator, “Mitchell Wins,” 11 August 1931.

86

numbers to the polls.152

For once the usually apathetic north and east ends, where workers lived

primarily, had far outvoted south and central Hamilton, the area closer to the escarpment and the

downtown business areas.

Upon arriving in Ottawa, Mitchell was immediately more active than many of his

predecessors had been. Mitchell dove right in, giving his maiden speech after less than six months

in parliament.153

He spoke often, largely on issues of labour, electoral and Senate reform,

unemployment relief and insurance, and the granting of titles within Canada. His speeches reflect

the importance he personally attached to moderation and reform through organized means. While

he noted that over 15,000 Hamiltonians were out of work, he also echoed the Conservative Party

in suggesting that through careful use of appropriate tariffs and the wise application of

apprenticeship programs, Canada’s wealth and prosperity could be restored.154

He also continued

to rail against communism, which he described as counter to the “democratic institutions” of

Canada and “absolutely foreign to the mental make-up of Canadians and the Anglo-Saxon

people.”155

Even his controversial contributions to debates on Senate reform and unemployment

insurance were well-framed, impeccably researched, and praised by the opposition for their

clarity and moderation.156

152 Hamilton Spectator, “Labor Forces Won Decisive Victory,” 11 August 1931.

153 Both the leader of the Opposition, then William Lyon Mackenzie King of the Liberals, and the Prime

Minister, R.B. Bennett, remarked that he had delivered the speech earlier than usual. While Mackenzie

King chastised him but praised the motion he put forth on monitoring election funds spending, Bennett

warmly congratulated him, telling the House, “It is quite clear that he is a skilled public speaker and a

debater of large experience. His performance was most creditable and I trust will be repeated often in this

chamber.” Canada, House of Commons Debates (11 February 1932), the Election Act, (Right Hon. R.B.

Bennett, Prime Minister). Mitchell supported many Conservative motions, especially on extending relief to

municipalities. 154

Canada, House of Commons Debates (2 March 1933), Relief Act of 1933, (Humphrey Mitchell,

Hamilton East); Canada, House of Commons Debates (5 February 1934), Unemployment Relief,

(Humphrey Mitchell, Hamilton East). 155

Canada, House of Commons Debates (16 February 1933), Criminal Code-Unlawful Associations,

(Humphrey Mitchell, Hamilton East). 156

Canada, House of Commons Debates (25 April 1932), The Budget, (Humphrey Mitchell, Hamilton

East); Canada, House of Commons Debates (21 February 1934), Unemployment Insurance, (Humphrey

Mitchell, Hamilton East).

87

Recognizing that as a one-man party he held little sway, he appealed to values he knew

that no politician could disagree with on either side of the House, such as British fair play,

honesty in disclosure of campaign funding, and the forthright defence of British liberty (which

fuelled his opposition to Section 98.)157

His interventions sometimes sparked long sympathetic

discussions on topics generally unnoticed in the House, such as injuries on the job in relief work

camps and the plight of hotel and restaurant employees. He sympathized with average Canadians

as they wrestled with concrete problems. He did not urge them to revolt. After his 1935 defeat in

the Hamilton East riding, he continued his political career in Hamilton for a few years, then on

the offer of King himself ran in 1942 for the Liberal Party in a by-election held in Welland that

year, returning in the winter as a Liberal from a rural riding. Serving as Minister of Labour, he

was on the wrong side of many wartime and post-war reforms and incurred the ire of his former

labourite supporters. However, for Mitchell and the ILP, his values of public service, liberal

constitutionalist political views, clean campaigning and political behaviour, and staunch advocacy

of industry as a boon to the workers, all embodied the pre-1933 ILP before its affiliation with the

CCF. Mitchell, in his moderation and his liberalism, testified to the very resilience of the liberal

order he sought to modify but not to overthrow.

Mitchell’s electoral success in the otherwise largely Conservative city of Hamilton

reinforces rather than contradicts the thesis that conservative liberal values were central to the

city’s political culture. Mitchell was an ideal liberal political candidate who followed the political

order, reinforced the importance of British values, and devoted his life to serving the public. The

strength of a liberal such as Mitchell within the city’s alternative labour party suggests that

conservative liberalism could even permeate movements whose class interests might have

conflicted with them. Hamilton’s predominant political culture, conservative liberalism, was such

157 Canada, House of Commons Debates (11 February 1932), the Election Act, (Right Hon. R.B. Bennett,

Prime Minister); Canada, House of Commons Debates (16 February 1933), Criminal Code-Unlawful

Associations, (Humphrey Mitchell, Hamilton East).

88

that even those who wanted to champion the workers’ cause often found themselves using a

language of politics shared by many of their middle-class fellow citizens.

89

Chapter 4: “Keeping Up a Progressive Programme”: Sam Lawrence,

the Co-operative Commonwealth Federation, and the Splintering of

Hamilton’s Left-Wing Political Movements

On 5 December 1921 Sam Lawrence ran for alderman in Hamilton. Uncharacteristically

for the charismatic Lawrence – especially when viewed against his later successes – he lost.1 But

this was not an outcome he would suffer again. Lawrence, a trade union man and stone cutter by

trade who had emigrated from England with his family in 1912, had shown a keen interest in the

politics of the working class, even before his migration. One loss was not about to deter him.2

Lawrence was a labour man through and through, having carried his experience with the British

Labour Party over to his life in Hamilton. At the time of his death, he had been an active member

of his union for over 52 years, an accomplishment which earned him a gold medal from the

Stonecutters Union of America.3 His main goal as a politician was to advance the cause of the

working man, even if this came at the expense of a harmonious political landscape. Lawrence ran

again for alderman in 1922. He not only won but headed the polls.4 This was a feat he would

repeat for seven more years as an alderman, and then for six as a controller before turning to

provincial politics. The only perceptible dip in his popularity was a 1930 drop from first place in

the polls to fourth in the controller race, attributed to his radicalism (the “ruddy tint in his record,”

in one Herald description).5

1 Hamilton Herald, “Sam Lawrence Follows Keir Hardie’s Pathway,” 16 February 1935. Keir Hardie was a

Scottish Socialist Labour politician in Great Britain in 1898. The founder of the British Independent Labour

Party, he was the only Labour politician in the House of Commons during his eight-year tenure there.

Lawrence felt some affinity for Hardie when he found himself in much the similar position in the Ontario

Legislature. 2 Ibid. Hamilton Herald, “Who’s Who of Local Winners,” 20 June 1934.

3 Toronto Star, “Hamilton Labor Leader, Sam Lawrence, 80, Dies,” 26 October 1959.

4 Hamilton Herald, “Sam Lawrence Follows Keir Hardie’s Pathway,” 16 February 1935.

5 Hamilton Herald, “The Elections,” 2 December 1930.

90

Figure 3: Lawrence (right), during his time as mayor, pictured with then-Governor General Viscount

Alexander (left), inspecting the troops during the Hamilton centennial, Hamilton, 1946. Source: Black

Mount collection, PreView image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Local History and Archives,

Hamilton Public Library.

The Herald’s evaluation suggests much about Lawrence’s experiences in local politics

and of Hamiltonians’ relationships with labour, politics, and radicalism. While the working class,

the basis of his support, was willing to support him as its representative in the city and the

province, this support had its limits. While some workers supported his turn towards overt

socialist politics and the CCF, others viewed his political transformation as a rejection of the

city’s conservative liberalism and a turn towards radicalism. Even among Hamilton’s working-

class voters such a decision was divisive.

Lawrence’s activities during the Depression indicated the labour movement’s general

shift in this period. While some Hamilton workers were content to stick with the old ways of the

craft unions, the growing number of workers employed in semi- or unskilled jobs found them

frustrating. The growth of the CCF and of CIO-affiliated unions in the latter half of the 1930s

speaks to the growing divide between labourites and socialists. This split suggests that within the

91

working class there existed a number of conceptions of what being a worker meant and where

workers’ loyalties properly resided. The ideals of independence and political respectability were

as deeply cherished by some of these working-class voters as they were by those who supported

the Conservative Party. The split between the ILP and the CCF demonstrates the firmly-held

nature of these convictions and their lasting effect on the city’s political landscape.

As the effects of the Depression became more evident, Lawrence’s militancy became

ever more pronounced. It scared off some voters, in an age when Communism was very much a

dirty word.6 Bolshevism had previously been violently repressed in its early years in the city.

7

Even the more liberally minded Herald warned against the dangers of being perceived as a leftist:

“Controller Lawrence does not favour the red element in civic politics, but his position has not

been made clear and in consequence his vote suffered.”8 The ILP and Lawrence, the Hamilton

Herald warned, should follow the level-headed example of Allan Studholme:

There is nothing to be alarmed about if Labor keeps in mind the ideal that the

best Labor leaders have always followed, and which the late honored and

respected Allan Studholme so admirably embodied. Labor can be as

impersonal, as devoted to public service, as intelligent, as well-informed, as

6 The CPC in Hamilton was very small, likely amounting to fewer than 600 members for the entire Greater

Hamilton Area, stretching from Grimsby in the east to Burlington in the north, and Dundas to the west. The

party was never seen as a serious threat to the city’s political order, but seen more as an ongoing

annoyance. The menace of invading Toronto Communists, such as Annie Buller, who would sometimes

come down and support unemployed men’s demonstrations and other activities was seen as a much larger

difficulty than the city’s own small and extremely close knit party. While the party grew and gained

strength in communities such as the Hungarian and Canadian immigrant populations, this did not grant it

political credibility among the largely British population. Archibald, 26. It is difficult to find exact numbers

for the party in the city due to the secrecy of Hamilton’s CPC. However, the Party did promote the idea of

an ethnically inclusive membership, especially in light of the city’s own ethnically diverse population and

highlighted these groups at CPC meetings. Compared to cities of comparable size, Ottawa and Quebec

City, these populations were much larger and more varied, and only much smaller Windsor boasted a

proportionally larger population of non-British immigrants. Archibald, 26; Dominion Bureau of Statistics,

Census of Canada, 1931: Cross-Classification, 900-912. The CPC’s own papers complained frequently that

the Hamilton party was very small indeed, numbering between 500 and 600 members and that it was made

up of the foreign-born, which disappointed the party. “The Road To Unity: Representative from Southern

Ontario,” Towards a Canadian People’s Front: Reports and Speeches from the Ninth Plenum of the Central

Committee, November 1935, box 11, file 39, Tim Buck Fonds, LAC. 7 William Rodney, Soldiers of the International: a History of the Communist Party of Canada, 1919-1929

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1968); Gerry Van Houten, Canada’s Party of Socialism: History of

the Communist Party of Canada, 1921—1976 (Toronto: Progress Books, 1982), 92-4. 8 Hamilton Herald, “The Elections,” 2 December 1930.

92

unselfish as any other party, and considering its experience in life, it ought to be

even more so than the other parties.9

Communism was largely an imagined spectre on Hamilton’s political landscape. Allusions to

“red politics” were frequently used against left and labour politicians who were out of favour,

rather than against the city’s very few card-carrying Communists. Hamilton’s CPC

representatives actually saw Lawrence as a weak-willed middle-of-the-road politician. They

insulted him in the 26 November 1932 issue of The Worker for flip-flopping on the issue of

whether or not to cooperate with the relief office. “The position of the ILP among the workers

must be very shaky,” the article cautioned, “to resort to such cheap tricks as this!”10

This election-

time issue labelled the ILP “‘Labor’ Misleaders,” “who enabled the city fathers to carry out the

policies of hunger and terror.”11

“The ILP with its cry that: ‘All must sacrifice,’ that a ‘half a loaf

is better than none,’ that ‘you must not strike against wage cuts in these hard times,’ is delivering

the working class to the mercy of the bosses,” the CPC warned the paper’s readers, “ thus being

the agents of the bosses in the ranks of the workers.”12

It would have been hard for the CPC to

find a friend in Lawrence in the 1930s. However, such friendship was nonetheless continually

insinuated by Lawrence’s less scrupulous foes.13

While an acceptable amount of dissent was

permissible, a left politician in Hamilton walked a fine line between legitimate advocacy and

illegitimate rabble-rousing. Radicalism aside, during these years on council, Lawrence was able

to implement many policies for both Hamilton’s workers and unemployed. “Keeping up a

progressive programme that must be faced if [the] city is to expand,” Lawrence fought for

improvements in wages, work place conditions, and employee exploitation on council, in “the

9 Hamilton Herald, “The Election,” 3 December 1929.

10 The Worker, “Lawrence Uses an Old Trick,” 26 November 1932, box 1, file 2, Charles Pollicott fonds,

QUA. This position towards the ILP was in line with the party’s Third Period ideology, during which the

CPC had rejected all left alternatives as “social fascists” and refused to cooperate or work with them. Ian

Angus, Canadian Bolsheviks: The Early Years of the Communist Party of Canada, second edition

(Victoria, British Columbia: Trafford Publishing, 2004), 233-7. 11

The Worker, “Manifesto Issued by the Workers’ Municipal Election Committee,” 26 November 1932,

box 1, file 2, Charles Pollicott fonds, QUA. 12

Ibid. 13

Hamilton Spectator, “Communists Met,” 11 June 1934.

93

true spirit of service to the community.”14

Though he flitted among other city committees, such as

the relief and health committees, “his first love” was the city’s works department, where he put

his trade union background to work to “do the most good for the city,” in his words.15

“Splendid services rendered:” Lawrence Confronts the Depression in Hamilton

Even before the Depression shook the Hamilton workforce, Lawrence was staunchly in

favour of practical policies that favoured working people. On civic labour issues, Lawrence

continually advocated solutions that, no matter their cost, would improve the lives of the

workers.16

When the contractors working on the city’s Home for the Aged and Infirm hired

underage workers at sub-par wages, it was Lawrence who took the mayor to task and demanded

fair pay for all, shaming the city into spending more.17

This sympathy extended to all those working in the city. During a 1929 strike of

workmen from the city’s National Steel Car plant, it was Lawrence who showed them the most

support and pressured the city to do so as well. While council and the mayor were initially

generally sympathetic with the strikers, as the dispute wore on council lost its patience. Mayor

William Burton accused the strikers of being in league with the Communists, who “had already

planned to ferment trouble in another large local industrial plant if successful in the Steel Car

company lockout.”18

While Lawrence denied he was supporting Communists, he “took issue with

Mayor Burton’s statement.”19

Lawrence suggested that the city should think twice about giving

up on the strikers so soon. Hamilton’s economic well-being was at stake, “as there could be no

14 Hamilton Spectator, “Acclamation for the Mayor’s Chair,” 25 November 1929.

15 Hamilton Spectator, “Old Records Smashed in Civic Election,” 3 December 1929.

16 Some, in fact, worried that Controller Lawrence was perhaps too involved in hiring, and was using his

position to hire his friends, even if they were “incompetent workmen…. [w]recking valuable machinery.”

Lawrence of course refuted these charges and they were dropped, to be dealt with by McFaul, the chief city

engineer. Hamilton Spectator, “Says Controllers Run Works Office,” 5 October 1931. 17

Hamilton Spectator, “Dispute Over Rate of Wages,” 7 February 1929. 18

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Burton Says Reds Are Menace to City,” 7 October 1929. 19

Ibid.

94

prosperity when many men were working for 25 cents an hour.”20

He continued to express his

Labourite sympathies, and at one point even suggested that the city bring in the Communist-

associated Canadian Labour Defence League (CLDL) on behalf of the strikers.21

This

identification with municipal workers was an extension of Lawrence’s ongoing sympathy with

the city’s working classes, whom he represented.

In addition to being a keen participant in municipal affairs, Lawrence was also an active

member of Hamilton’s TLC. While Hamilton had had a labour council since the 1860s, the

current TLC, an AFL-affiliated body, had been founded in 1888. It became a more powerful

organizational body after 1930.22

The TLC provided a recognized body through which the city’s

diverse workers could have an advocate. While the TLC’s demands could often seem radical, it

respected the political order of the city and was respected and legitimized in return. Its demands

also provide interesting insight into what actually concerned Hamilton’s more conservative

unionists and those they represented as the Depression continued. For example, the TLC joined

other Hamiltonians in sending numerous letters to the City Council regarding pedestrian safety.

20 Ibid.

21 Hamilton Spectator, “Strikers Ask Permission to Hold Tag Day,” 27 September 1929; Hamilton

Spectator, “Board of Control Will Meet Heenan,” 7 October 1929. Lawrence himself had a rather rocky

relationship with the CLDL. Though he was listed as one of the group’s founding members in the League’s

annual report, and A.E. Smith described him as an active member in his reminiscences of the group in

1945, Lawrence himself frequently disowned the group, stating in the case of this strike, “I have never

expressed any sympathy for [the CLDL and] the leaders.” As, by 1929, the group was prominently and

publicly associated with the CPC, at least in the minds of the members of the Hamilton City Council who

described it as “run by Communists,” it is possible that Lawrence had in reality dropped his affiliation, or

that he had chosen to continue it more quietly after joining the Board of Control. In any case, he never

published in the CLDL paper and does not seem to have been willing to speak at their public events in the

city, though the group remained active in Hamilton throughout the 1930s. A.E. Smith, rough draft of

column, “My Column,” for the Canadian Tribune, 29 March 1945, box 34, file 48, Robert S. Kenney

Collection, Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario (TFRBL);

Canadian Labor Defense League Report of Annual District Convention, Toronto, Ontario, Report of John

Hunter, Toronto District Annual Convention Report 1935, 14-to 15 September 1935, box 39, file 20,

Robert S. Kenney collection, TFRBL. As Stephen Endicott’s book on the WUL observess, Communists

may have imagined themselves to be the centre of the labour movement at this time in Canada, but their

spin-off organizations attracted a broader range of political idealists who participated in these organizations

but had no intention of joining the party in some cases, as it seems to be with Lawrence. Stephen Endicott,

Raising the Workers’ Flag: The Workers’ Unity League of Canada, 1930-1936 (Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 2012). 22

Hamilton Labour Review and Union Buyers’ Guide, June 1952, box 34, file 5, HDLC fonds, WRDARC.

95

Hamiltonians had struggled, like city dwellers everywhere, to adapt to the rules of the modernized

road. Thus, the TLC, along with an unlikely collection of allies – the Chamber of Commerce, the

Local Women’s Council, the Women’s Institute of Hamilton, and sundry other groups – worked

to protect pedestrians from speeding motorists and lumbering street cars.23

One of the chief roles of the Depression-era TLC was to act as an informal but influential

liaison with City Council and the Board of Control for raising concerns about municipal problems

of unemployment and working conditions. It lobbied to ensure that shelter relief was equally

distributed, relief work hours were shared among the unemployed, shoddy housing was dealt with

by the public health board, and wages correlated with skill levels and the cost of living.24

It also

worked to ensure that municipal employees were not fired in order to be replaced by cheaper

relief labour, especially as relief works were often paid for by the province and were used by

some municipalities as a belt-tightening tool.25

Its work as a semi-governmental liaison could

even include intervening in non-municipal issues, as when it called upon the federal and

provincial government to treat their employees more equitably. When the Dominion Power and

Transmission Company laid off a majority of its employees, those unemployed were forced to

take temporary relief jobs, also funded by the provincial government, and the TLC held an

emergency meeting in which it forwarded a formal complaint to Mayor Peebles, who then

supported its appeal to the Ontario Hydro Electric Power Commission.26

This case demonstrated

the respect that the city council and the mayor had for this organization’s role in employment

matters. Given the power-balancing role of ILP politicians on the board, these official (and not

entirely non-threatening) appeals were often used to tip the balance on issues that were being

debated on council.

23 Hamilton Spectator, “Greater Safety for Pedestrians Will be Sought,” 20 April 1929.

24 Hamilton Spectator, “Say Aldermen Have Ignored Orders Given,” 5 May 1934; Hamilton Spectator,

“Higher Wages on Relief Work Sought,” 7 November 1934. 25

Hamilton Spectator, “Trades, Labour Will Take Part in Celebration,” 6 April 1935. 26

Hamilton Spectator, “Trades Council Scores Actions of Hydro Board,” 2 May 1931.

96

As a member of the city’s TLC and a former activist in the local stone cutter’s union,

Lawrence, like other members on the ILP ticket in the city, remained active on the council after

his election as an alderman and controller. In fact, he claimed that serving on council “has

enabled me to bring those talents I possess by practical experience [to] work while being a public

service [which] has been a source of pleasure to me.”27

During strikes or labour disputes,

Lawrence often sided with the workers, even when the rest of the council pushed them to go back

to work to return “prosperity [to] the city of Hamilton.”28

Lawrence argued that prosperity and

progress meant nothing to the city if its workers were still struggling to get by on less than 25

cents a day.29

In addition to the direct work he carried out for the working classes, Lawrence also

immersed himself in the organizational life of the city’s unions and labour councils. He

frequently attended events at the city’s Labour Temple, including meetings of such organizations

as the machinists’ union and the building trades unions.30

He was widely recognized for his

“splendid services rendered” to the city’s working classes, though he himself “said that while

some headway is being made... he is not altogether satisfied [with] the way things are going.”31

He even had a street named after him in order to honour “the dean of the city council in length of

service,” so dedicated was he to his job in the works department.32

His allegiances still lay chiefly

27 Hamilton Spectator, “Acclamation for the Mayor’s Chair,” 25 November 1929. A very similar article

was run in the Herald that same day. Hamilton Herald, “Mayoralty and Controller Candidates Speak,” 25

November 1929. During Lawrence’s early years on council he drew upon his knowledge and skills as a

labourer and labour advocate. He guided his work on council to this strength as well, working mostly with

the public works board and later relief board prior to becoming mayor. He recognized that this was the

main way through which he could provide service to the city, and also a unique strength he could play to.

On a council slate that included merchants, doctors, and lawyers he certainly stood out. The closest thing to

a “worker” on 1929’s council was John Peebles, who had worked as a jeweller prior to his election. 28

Hamilton Spectator, “Board of Control Will Meet Heenan,” 27 October 1929. 29

Ibid. 30

Hamilton Spectator, “Social Evening for Machinists,” 21 September 1929; Hamilton Spectator,

“Controller is Given Suitcase at Labor Meet,” 15 April 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Communists Barred

From Labor Temple,” 19 January 1929. 31

Hamilton Spectator, “Controller is Given Suitcase at Labor Meet,” 15 April 1930. 32

Hamilton Spectator, “Alderman Plan to Rename New Mountain Road,” 30 April 1929.

97

with the city’s own workers, for whom he sought labour equality and parity with private

industry.33

Lawrence persisted in his labour advocacy into the Great Depression. Through his work

with the works department he tried to keep people employed. Hamilton’s rate of unemployment

had skyrocketed, and people who had moved to the city for high-paying jobs in the prosperous

twenties were suddenly stuck there, often with no jobs at all.34

Lawrence began a fight in the

works department to find jobs for men out of work.35

As Lawrence noted, “civic undertakings are

absolutely essential… [when] faced with the necessity of caring for… our fellow citizens, who

through no fault of their own are unable to provide for themselves.”36

He advocated repairs to the

only access road to the mountain, new buildings for the city, and the completion of McMaster

University.37

Many of his causes did make a difference. The construction of a west end high

school alone, though a costly project, provided ten weeks work to 2,000 men each, in addition to

other rotating crews elsewhere in the city, which in turn generated tax revenues and stimulated

local businesses.38

Lawrence fought against the use of machines, such as a steam shovel on the

high-level bridge, on these jobs. He wanted as many jobs for workers as possible.39

In the case of

Hamilton’s high-level bridge, he favoured practical benefits to employ workers over aesthetic

niceties. In the end, although its decorative pillars and cornices were built, though the niches

meant to house four statues of prominent Ontarians remained empty.40

The Chamber of

33 Hamilton Spectator, “Laborers Upon Civic Jobs to be Protected,” 23 January 1930.

34 Hamilton Spectator, “Uneasiness is Expressed Over the Unemployed,” 19 June 1930.

35 Ibid.

36 Labor News, “Controller Lawrence’s Nomination Address Makes Hit With the Electors,” 28 October

1930. 37

Hamilton Spectator, “City to Rush Its Relief Work Ahead,” 25 October 1930; Hamilton Herald,

“Controllers Seek Meaning of Relief Plan,” 15 October 1934; Hamilton Spectator, “Uneasiness is

Expressed Over the Unemployed,” 19 June 1930. 38

Hamilton Spectator, “‘Work’,” 9 November 1932. 39

Hamilton Herald, “Lack of Relief Work Feared in City,” 23 October 1931. 40

Ibid. As discussions never progressed beyond the ideas phase, it is unknown who these statues were

meant to depict, though the Spectator later suggested they would have been chosen by the entrance’s key

visionary, T.B. McQuesten. Hamilton Spectator, “T.B. McQuesten Dies; Leaves Lasting Monument,” 13

January 1948.

98

Commerce supported the original plan, both the Liberal and Conservative party organizations

endorsed it, the public works board spoke on the value of the masonry skills learned on the job

that would be transferable to profitable work later on, and the Spectator dramatically claimed

“there is a considerable feeling upon the subject in all classes. Trade union organizations have

passed resolutions, private citizens have written to the press, and a deputation of influential public

men and women have waited upon the controllers, all in support of the policy of making the new

bridge a thing of beauty.”41

It is telling, therefore, that Lawrence prevailed.

Figure 4: Current photograph of the decorative cornices on the high-level bridge and their empty statue

niches, Hamilton, 2014. Source: Author's collection.

41 Hamilton Spectator, “High Level Bridge,” 1 April 1931.

99

Lawrence promoted the idea that relief jobs should prepare men for work once the

Depression was over. He preferred the provision of skilled work over such tasks as snow

shoveling and sewer digging. Not only did he want workers to have jobs, he thought they should

also be remunerated at dignity-preserving levels.42

He also suggested staggering relief work

through the year, to mitigate the hardship of seasonal unemployment. Especially in the early years

of the Depression, when the unemployment crisis still might have been a temporary one, he

worried that work would be “speeded up to such an extent that we [will be] compelled to lay off

gangs and will shortly have to lay off more.”43

Lawrence was the only man willing to hear from

and advocate on behalf of delegations of workers who came to the Board of Control. While they

were often unsuccessful, Lawrence nonetheless provided them with a voice.44

Through his

dedication, he earned the respect of the city’s labour elites, and was constantly lauded in the ILP’s

Labor News as a man who was “on the job for Labor and the citizens of Hamilton 365 days a

year.”45

He was truly Hamilton’s golden boy for labour on the civic scene, even when his “ruddy

hue” made him unpopular with the city’s conservative council.

While his chief mandate was to deal with finding jobs for the unemployed at a fair wage

through the works department, Lawrence was not unsympathetic to those who suffered from

persistent unemployment, often through no fault of their own. He served on the city’s welfare

board at the Depression’s peak and was shocked by the neglect confronting the city’s poor and by

42 Hamilton Herald, “Controllers Study Relief Work Policy But Delay Decision,” 27 October 1934.

43 Hamilton Spectator, “Uneasiness is Expressed Over the Unemployed,” 19 June 1930.

44 Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1929, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1929

(Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 29 September 1929; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1930,

Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1930 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1931), 3 October 1930; Meeting of City

of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1931, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1931 (Hamilton, Ontario:

1932), 20 June 1931; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1931, Minutes of Hamilton Board of

Control, 1931 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1932), 25 June 1931; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control,

1932, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 8 May 1932; Meeting of

City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1932 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1933), 15 August 1932. 45

Labor News, “Candidate Lawrence,” 28 October 1930. During his election campaign, Lawrence often

bragged he had “never missed a day at the council with the exception of… two days… spent in Ottawa on

city business.” Hamilton Spectator, “Beer Cannot Win Election,” 5 June 1934.

100

their perceived harassment by city officials.46

The city, like many municipalities in Canada,

struggled to provide for the extremely impoverished. Hamilton’s unemployed also became

increasingly visibly agitated with the system as the Depression progressed, mounting large

demonstrations to draw attention to their neediness.47

The city’s difficulty, as Lawrence saw it,

was that the “rate of relief was a starvation one [and] the unfortunate… were threatened with

eviction from their homes… and [were] turned out on the sidewalks to sleep in the parks.”48

Lawrence advocated extending shelter, food, and medical relief to larger numbers of the city’s

unemployed. As evictions of the unemployed increased, Lawrence and the ILP fought

homelessness by adopting some of the approaches – such as eviction protests – of Communist

politicians in other urban centres.49

While the city contended that there was relief housing enough for everyone, in July of

1934 Lawrence brought forward three cases of evictions of whole families, who were now living

on the streets, in one case for as long as two weeks.50

The problem of housing was made more

desperate by the decaying state of houses in the city, as landlords allowed their properties to fall,

in the opinion of the Department of Health, into “‘slum’ houses… unfit as they stood for human

habitation.”51

Lawrence demanded that such cases be recognized, but the Mayor said that, like all

others, the people involved would have to apply for relief housing.52

This bureaucracy frustrated

Lawrence who thought that “needy families in the city ‘were being investigated to death.’… there

46 Hamilton Spectator, “Temper of Council Decidedly on Edge,” 2 July 1931. In this situation he meant

“death” literally, as he feared, though he presented no evidence, that relief recipients might starve or freeze

to death while waiting for the help they needed from the city. 47

Hamilton Spectator, “Police Clash With Unemployed,” 7 November 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Parade

Held by Unemployed to City Hall,” 1 May 1933; Hamilton Spectator, “Homeless Single Men Paraded City

Streets,” 3 September 1935. 48

Hamilton Spectator, “Welfare Board Should Conform,” 3 February 1934. 49

See Magda Fahrni, Household Politics: Montreal Families and Postwar Reconstruction (Toronto:

University of Toronto Press, 2005); Mark Naison, Communists in Harlem during the Depression. (New

York: Grove Press, 1984), 40-43. 50

Hamilton Herald, “Labour Forces Lose Struggle on Relief Rent,” 11 July 1934. 51

Hamilton Spectator, “Building Program Urged as Many Houses in Dangerous Conditions,” 21 April

1934. 52

Hamilton Herald, “Labour Forces Lose Struggle on Relief Rent,” 11 July 1934.

101

was too much overlapping of interests, with nurses of the health department, the school health

department and the council of social agencies involved.”53

Lawrence had a short temper when confronted with seemingly futile legislation impeding

relief. This generosity of spirit typified his policies. It made him a hero of labour and

simultaneously made him something of a public enemy in the eyes of middle-class Hamilton. His

resolutions were often successful after some debate, as they often fell under the purview of his

own Works Committee. Inefficiencies of capitalist bureaucracy frustrated Lawrence, who

questioned why it was necessary for people to fight for the right to live with dignity. Fighting

against liberal notions of lesser eligibility and heavily statistical approaches to social work,

Lawrence sought an alternative.

As mentioned in the last chapter, Lawrence was successfully elected to the legislature in

1934 with the support of an Anything But Conservative platform and support team.54

This

carefully crafted alliance had been momentarily consolidated after CCF supporters had initially

reacted quite harshly to suggestions that they should be the ones to step down in this contest.55

While “Great Enthusiasm” was seen and “Hamilton streets ran riot” after Lawrence’s election, the

Spectator was quick to publish some discouraging words. It noted that first of all, Lawrence’s

polls were not overwhelmingly strong, and secondly, that he “got a majority of his votes from the

Labour electorate,” as opposed to the CCF camp. Elected thanks to a delicate political alliance of

53 Hamilton Spectator, “Temper of Council Decidedly on Edge,” 2 July 1931.

54 The ILP and Conservative party, despite a shared discourse of political propriety and behaviour, often

butted heads in issues such as advancing people to promotions or chairmanships on city council, and

political one-upmanship. Indeed, following a 1932 ousting of all ILP politicians and friendlies from civic

offices by a group centred on a group of Conservatives who were all members of the Olympic sporting

club, the ILP-affiliated Labor News threatened that “Sportsmen and politicians who live by the sword

invariably die in the same process.” Labor News, “Labor Elects Officers,” 29 January 1932. 55

Hamilton Spectator, “Three Political Parties List Candidates,” 30 April 1934. Such political alliances

were not entirely uncommon in the 1930s, when party lines, especially among the groups of fragmented

more reform-minded parties that popped up regionally, and often temporarily, like the ILP, CCF and

regional farmer’s parties. This move was attempted again by a group known as the “Progressive United

Front,” but since it lacked the support of the Liberals, who had been the turning point in the success of the

1934 alliance, it ultimately collapsed. Hamilton Spectator, “‘United Front’ Candidates May Enter Political

Arena,” 10 September 1937; Hamilton Spectator, “Liberal-CCF Alliance in Hamilton Centre Denied,” 20

August 1937.

102

anti-Conservative parties, Lawrence was likely to last only as long as this alliance lasted. Once

the parties’ respective interests diverged, Lawrence would become one of the radical “them.”

Lawrence’s support of radical socialism at times had already alienated him from the ILP. When in

1929 the TLC voted against allowing Communists use of the labour hall, for example, it was only

Lawrence who had said they should be admitted, a position strongly diverging from the good-old-

fashioned trade union tradition the Council embodied.56

While certainly Lawrence won one

election, he was never elected to the provincial legislature again and had to return to civic

elections. That both the ILP and the CCF were present as left parties resulted in disastrous vote-

splitting. Socialism, in the eyes of its detractors, was akin to Communism. It was a stance the

ILPers worked hard to rebut, especially in the labour council.57

Many Hamiltonians, even

working-class Hamiltonians were not swayed by them.

The Early Years of the CCF in Hamilton

Notwithstanding Lawrence’s early success, the CCF was slow to grow in Hamilton.

Founded in 1932, the party only opened a CCF Club in Hamilton in the winter of 1933, and by

May of that year its meetings were actively attracting around 150 attendees, including local

notables like Lawrence and former Liberal MLA hopeful Captain Elmore Philpott, a member of

an established Hamilton family known for their charitable nature and public service.58

Many

feared the party’s platform. It seemed to call for changes unheard of in liberal Ontario. Here, said

the Spectator, was “a brutally frank declaration of class warfare… it is certainly… Marxian in this

56 Hamilton Herald, “Communists Barred from Labor Temple,” 19 January 1929.

57 Ibid.

58 Hamilton Herald, “Capt. Philpott Addressed CCF Club,” 6 May 1933. Much like the records of all local

political parties in the city, CCF records, especially for these early years, range from spotty mentions in

larger convention reports to no records at all. Thus newspaper reports are the most accurate way of

recreating the mood of the CCF during this time. Where records from unions and the HDLC’s thoughts on

the party have survived, they have been included. By 1933, the curious crowds had allegedly grew to over

2,000 attendees. Labor News, “Captain Philpott Denounces Low Wages and Hours,” 29 September 1933.

103

respect.”59

The only nice thing the newspaper could find to say about the party was that “the CCF

is opposed to violence,” though the paper cautioned readers, “it took a heated debate before its

opposition could be registered.”60

The vocal electoral hopefuls, Lawrence and Philpott, did little

to assuage the fears of Hamilton’s middle-class and middle-of-the-road voters through their

increasingly vocal stances on controversial issues of the day such as a minimum wage,

unemployment insurance, and freeing Tim Buck from prison.61

This was especially the case when

Hamilton’s most vocal socialist, John Mitchell who had previously suggested Ontario was a

Fascist state, was elected president of the party’s Ontario section.62

For a city where capitalism

and industrial progress had been earlier approved by the somewhat successful ILP, this party’s

seemingly radical platform proved hard for moderates to swallow, especially as the Labor News

seemed to indicate this radical shift in print when it called for the end to the “evils of the present

capitalistic system.”63

In April 1933 the Ontario Labour Party, with which the ILP was affiliated, voted at its

annual convention in favour of “unconditional affiliation with the CCF.”64

To most in attendance

it seemed like a good idea. After all, the new party’s proposed aims included “the creation of a

new social order where human needs displaced the making of profits, an order based on fraternity

59 Hamilton Spectator. “CCF Manifesto,” 20 July 1933.

60 Ibid.

61 Labor News, “Capt. Philpott Denounces Low Wages and Hours,” 29 September 1933; Hamilton

Spectator, “Shorter Hour Plea Heard in the House,” 6 February 1934. Philpott Resigned from the CCF prior

to Lawrence’s election in 1934 and will be discussed more extensively later when discussing the ILP and

CCF split. Hamilton Spectator, “Philpott Resigns from Ontario CCF,” 12 March 1934. 62

Hamilton Spectator, “New Constitution for Ontario CCF,” 16 April 1934. Unlike Lawrence, Mitchell

was unable to forge an alliance among the local parties in his ridings and lost. He also faced much censure

and accusations of radicalism, even though his use of the CCF Manifesto echoed Lawrence’s use of it.

Perhaps tellingly, he was never the front page news item that Lawrence was, not even in the Labor News.

Hamilton Spectator, “Declares Ills Need Redress,” 9 June 1934. Mitchell was more radical than Lawrence.

He was unable to market himself as successfully as a people’s candidate and was remembered, unlike

Lawrence, as brash, loud, and angry. 63

Hamilton Spectator, “The Capitalist,” 24 September 1935; Labor News, “CCF Issues its Election

Manifesto,” 25 May 1934. 64

Labor News “Ontario Labor Party Affiliated with Co-operative Commonwealth Federation,” 29 April

1933. Despite the Hamilton organization’s own more homogenous views, the Ontario Labor Party was a

fractured entity and had an on-and-off relationship with the CPC and the CCF. Ian Angus, Canadian

Bolsheviks.

104

– not on competitive struggle,” which seemed in accordance with the OLP’s own aims to

represent and improve the lot of the workingman.65

While the Dominion Trades and Labor

Congress later withdrew its resolution endorsing the CCF and reconsidered giving the new party

money, the ILP and CCF in Hamilton proceeded along amicably, for the most part, for the

remainder of 1933 and early 1934.66

The 1933 panel of electoral candidates was well thought out

and boasted “a record that will go down in the history of our city in bold relief when compared

with the actions of the elected members sponsored by those same self-appointed dictators [in the

Communist and Conservative parties] of other years.”67

The two parties successfully and

peaceably ran jointly in the 1933 municipal elections. Six ILP-CCF members were successfully

elected to the council.68

To settle the fears of the ILP, the CCF even began purging its ranks of all

of its “communistic elements,” part of a larger effort by the CCF during this period.69

When

Lawrence ran, he did so on a joint CCF and ILP ticket. He was supported by the city’s eight

ward-based CCF clubs and five ILP branches by an overwhelming majority.70

Even Humphrey

Mitchell told an assembled CCF meeting that “There is no one now in provincial government

who understands the troubles of the working class, nor one who could do so much for them, as

65 Ibid. One of the hardest questions that the ILP had to resolve was what to do about the singing of “God

Save the King” at the opening of every ILP meeting. Ultimately it was decided that though singing the

royal anthem might be an offense to some party members, it could be balanced out through the singing of

“The Internationale” or “The Red Flag” at the closing of meetings. Labor News, “Ontario Labor Party

Affiliated with Co-operative Commonwealth Federation,” 29 April 1933. 66

Labor News, “CCF Resolution was Withdrawn at Closing Session of Congress,” 27 October 1933. 67

Hamilton Spectator, election advertisement “CCF ILP Reply,” 2 December 1933. 68

Hamilton Herald, “Length of Service Blamed for Mayor’s Defeat,” 5 December 1933. 69

Hamilton Spectator, “Purging the Ranks,” 26 February 1934. Organizationally and ideologically,

Communists and the CCF were never close bed fellows. Norman Penner, From Protest to Power: Social

Democracy in Canada, 1900 to Present (Toronto: James Lorimer and Company, Publishers, 1992), 65-68.

However, as their respective members coexistence within the CLDL and some of Hamilton’s unions

indicated, they were willing to work towards similar aims at times. However, they remained publicly

separate. Even in allegedly praising the CCF for separating themselves from the CPC, the Spectator was

short on other compliments, acknowledging only that the CCFers were less radical than communists: “Far-

reaching, even revolutionary, as the aspirations of the CCF are, they do not go the length of recognizing the

destructive activities of the communistic elements at their favourite game of ‘boring from within.’ We hold

no brief for the CCF: on the contrary, we are convinced that its platform is as ill-advised as it is unpractical.

But by the process of purgation which it is undertaking it will undoubtedly gain respect and prestige with

the public.” 70

Labor News, “CCF-Labor Decides to Contest Four Ridings Here,” 27 April 1934.

105

Sam Lawrence.”71

It was telling that Mitchell referred in his speech to Lawrence as a “Labor”

politician and did not mention the CCF at all.

As early as this election some, even Humphrey Mitchell among them, had begun to

express concerns that the CCF’s sweeping social agenda would never fit with Hamilton labour’s

distinct political identity.72

The party’s ambitious decision to run four federal candidates was

“bitterly opposed by most of the old straight-line ILP members and by no small number of CCF

candidates,” who felt it was wiser to invest resources in the potentially successful and more

working-class ridings of Hamilton East and Hamilton West. While the CCF would later recognize

the wisdom of running fewer, more successful candidates, this election was seen as an

opportunity to make a first federal statement.73

These initial concerns were brushed aside quickly

by Lawrence as nonsense. By all appearances, it seemed the two parties were getting along, in

spite of the acknowledged discomfort of the ILP over the potential radicalism of the CCF.

The happy jointure of the Hamilton ILP and CCF was short-lived. Disappointment was

acute over the failure of the CCF to garner popular support in the provincial elections, as the ILP

had not perceived the CCF to be so dramatically unpopular. At the June meeting of the ILP, its

members’ shock over the failure to elect anyone except Lawrence was a chief topic of discussion,

leading to the resolution that “the question of affiliation should be settled without further delay.”74

Members “voiced disappointment at the miserable showing made by CCF candidates at the

provincial level.”75

Further, it was thought that the CCF central organization had treated Hamilton

rather dismissively, apparently insulting popular party member and MP Humphrey Mitchell by

treating him as an ignorant old-fashioned politician. It evidently planned on running “no more

than two candidates in Hamilton and Wentworth [which] CCF officers withheld… from the

71 Hamilton Spectator, “Lawrence Asks Supporters to Battle Fairly,” 29 May 1934.

72 Hamilton Spectator, “Rift Seen in the Ranks of Labour Group,” 7 April 1934.

73 Hamilton Spectator, “CCF Decides to Contest all Local Ridings,” 23 April 1934.

74 Labor News, “ILP Central Branch Severs Its Connection with CCF,” 27 July 1934.

75 Ibid.

106

delegates at the nominating convention.”76

This decision was significant because while it

concentrated efforts to improve success, it also meant fewer chances at success and constituted a

sharp turnaround from ILP policy. While signs of a crack had begun to show earlier, when

Philpott split with the party to rejoin the Liberals, this split between the ILP and the CCF

demonstrated a much more deep-seated debate over approaches to labour politics than this earlier

division.77

At the heart of later discussions of the parties’ differences were monumental variations

in their ideological perceptions of Hamilton’s working classes that resulted in “considerable hard

feeling [among] old party stalwarts of the ILP who thought that labour would lose its identity

in… the new party.”78

While the ILP was not part of Hamilton’s conservative vanguard, it

represented political views with which the public was more comfortable, ones that valued

negotiation and organization over radicalism and revolution, and thus were more easily

reconciled with conservative liberalism

“Had Labour stuck to sound traditional policies… it would not have to deplore the check it

has received:” The Results of a Split Labour Vote on Hamilton Politics

Following the ILP/CCF split, both parties continued to run in municipal and federal

elections held in Hamilton and thus effectively divided the anti-Conservative vote. Disagreements

between the parties also surfaced in city council. Former political collaborators became directly

opposed rivals. The most dramatic of these debates occurred over the sale of coal to Hamiltonians

from the city’s coal yards, a debate that raged in council for nearly a week in September. It was a

76 Ibid.

77 Hamilton Spectator, “Ontario CCF,” 12 March 1934; Hamilton Spectator, “E. Philpottt Resigns from

Ontario CCF,” 12 March 1934. Philpott’s split from the party had come about over disagreements about the

role of farmers in the CCF. The United Farmers of Ontario officially left the party in March and Philpott

went with them. Later on Philpott would state that he had actually abandoned the party because it was an

electoral failure and that furthermore it had not met its goal of serving the working classes and farmers. It

had “failed to give the people a program which they believed would be of benefit to them during the

present distress.” Hamilton Spectator, “Philpott says CCF Failure,” 17 November 1934.

78 Hamilton Spectator, “CCF Link is Under Ban by Labour Party,” 25 August 1934.

107

public highlighting of the split.79

The “old line party” of labour had by this period officially voted

to separate from the CCF and the debate in council raged to the extent that the council’s

discussions were weighed down by the “strain of so much political eloquence – or nonsense – as

the case may be.”80

Aldermen John Mitchell and CCFer J.F. Reed were both in favour of opening

the city’s coal yard to the public, arguing “that the citizens of Hamilton in whom ownership of the

yard was vested had a right to benefit from cheaper prices,” unlike those charged by private coal

sellers trying to rake in huge profits.81

However, ILP Alderman R.R. Evans suggested that this

language of public ownership was all talk, meant to veil the untrustworthy CCFers’ own interest

as supposed players in the city’s underground coal ring. He even presented a supposed letter on

CCF letterhead outlining their nefarious plans.82

Though Alderman Mitchell tried to defend

himself, the ILPers succeeded in presenting themselves as level-headed men of politics, with the

Spectator concluding that the CCF was not to be trusted. Unlike Alderman Pollock, who was “a

member of the Labour party, [against whom] no such accusation could be made,” Mitchell and

Reed seemed to be masking their true CCF intentions.83

They were viewed as untrustworthy by

their fellow councillors who wanted firmer capital projections and ownership agreements. This

suggestion that the two politicians and the CCF were untrustworthy resonated with labour

supporters. Unlike the solid, traditional ILP, the CCF had not proven itself a friend to the worker.

In the civic elections of 1934, the ILP made it clear to its reading public that it was still

the same party as before and had recognized the error of its ways. It told its voters that “[t]he

Labor Party should never have linked up with the CCF. But it is no use crying over spilt milk…

the political Labor movement here should make the grade. The ILP slate deserves the support of

79 Hamilton Spectator, “CCF and Labour Factions at Odds,” 26 September 1934.

80 Ibid.

81 Ibid.

82 Ibid.

83 Ibid.

108

the electors.”84

It boasted of increased membership levels, unexpected reappearances of absent

followers, and a “good team” of candidates.85

However, this confidence was short-lived. Not even

two months later, the party lost in a devastating fashion. While the ILP and the CCF had jointly

secured six seats in the 1933 election the two could not, working separately, achieve such success

in 1934. They collectively won two seats, one seat each for CCF Alderman Agnes Sharpe and

ILP Alderman William Harrison.86

Fourteen Conservative-leaning councilmen formed a solid

majority in council, with four Liberals rounding the numbers out. What could explain this loss,

especially in a year that saw the largest ever number of votes? The ILP had one answer only: the

CCF and its dirty political tactics. Henry Penton, spokesman for the ILP, told the Spectator, “Our

position in the circumstances was impossible, being split as we were and with our former nominal

leader, Controller Sam Lawrence… aligning himself with the mayoralty candidate endorsed by

the Communist Party.”87

Communism had long been a dirty word, both for the ILP and

Hamilton’s press, so Lawrence’s desertion and the assertion of such an affiliation was certainly a

damning one, and noted as such by both of Hamilton’s major papers.88

However, it was not

Communism alone that was to blame. The candidates themselves had broken an unspoken rule in

84 Labor News, “ILP Civic Slate,” 26 October 1934.

85 Ibid.

86 Hamilton Spectator, “Conservatives Hold Council Majority,”4 December 1934.

87 Ibid.

88 Hamilton Herald, “Mitchell Say Labour was ‘Crucified’,” 4 December 1934. The potential alliance

between the CCF and the Communists was constantly batted around by the press, no matter how many

denials each published. Whenever the idea was brought up, it had to be promptly and clearly denied by the

CCF to prevent rumours from spreading. Hamilton Spectator, “Local Ministers Against Co-operation,” 24

June 1935. This became especially problematic when the Communist leader Tim Buck, whom many CCF

members in Hamilton had supported in his fight against Section 98 on principle but not politically, ran for

the Hamilton East riding seat in the 1935 federal election. The papers immediately jumped all over the

situation. The CCF was ultimately forced to pull in all its members to make denials that there was any

involvement between the Communists and the CCF. Hamilton Spectator, “CCF Could not Back

Communist, Declares Peebles,” 6 July 1939. This distaste for extremism went both ways though, as

Fascists were equally reviled for their extremism, especially as the drums of war from Germany were heard

across the Atlantic Ocean. Quite decidedly, it was stated that “The Canadian People will not welcome such

solicitation, finding it wholly unnecessary and viewing it as a serious threat to, rather than a guarantee of,

their birthright. Liberty is still prized in this Dominion, including the liberty to do what one likes with one’s

own.” Hamilton Spectator, “Ontario’s Fascists,” 17 March 1937; Hamilton Spectator, “Canadian Fascism,”

22 October 1933.

109

Hamilton civic politics by bringing partisan politics to the table, and thus were to blame for their

own suffering.

“Politics seldom enters into council matters,” wrote the Spectator alongside its report on

the election results, “except for the Labour and CCF election slates.”89

Even Lawrence, former

nominal leader of the ILP, new MPP for the CCF, and trade union golden boy could not escape

the mire of politics. He was criticized by the more traditional Humphrey Mitchell, still firmly and

clearly a Labour politician, who berated Lawrence’s playing at politics, a position not seen as

fitting for civic elections meant to promote service, not mudslinging. Humphrey Mitchell, who

described the defeat as “an avalanche,” feared that Lawrence would apparently throw away the

workingman, whom he had supposedly represented, in favour of partisan politics. “[N]o man

recognized as a leader in the labor movement can publicly crucify prominent and faithful workers

in the party without forfeiting all right to public confidence,” he proclaimed.90

Lawrence, in a

radio broadcast the Saturday before the election, had allegedly “repudiated Aldermen Aitchison

and Pollock, and claimed that the only real labour representatives ‘were [CCF members] Mitchell

and Reed.’”91

This statement and separation of the CCF from “real” labour politics emphasized a

further divide between the two parties. In opposition, the ILP portrayed itself as having striven

hard to win “by conducting a dignified and clean campaign… Defeat of Labor will be felt by the

industrial labor movement and the public at large during the coming year.”92

The party split was

deeply felt in the city. Some supporters bemoaned the dismal outcome the elections had brought

about: “Never before have so many aldermen sought seats upon the higher dais; never before

have so many been defeated.”93

Deeply embedded civic values seemed at stake.

89 Hamilton Spectator, “Labour-CCF Hostility is Given Airing,” 2 February 1935.

90 Hamilton Herald, “Mitchell Say Labour was ‘Crucified’,” 4 December 1934.

91 Ibid.

92 Labor World, “The Civic Elections,” 21 December 1934.

93 Hamilton Spectator, “Labour Forces Suffer Defeat at the Polls,” 4 December 1934.

110

This division continued to resonate well after the election, as was demonstrated at a

meeting of the TLC, which both CCF and ILP members attended. Humphrey Mitchell, discussing

a strike of civic employees, criticized CCF members for assailing his supposed distance from the

workers’ struggle. The division between Lawrence’s radical leanings and Mitchell’s supposed

old-fashioned labour politics was pointed to again as the real reason for such insults.94

This focus

on the workers highlighted a key part of ILP rhetoric. In its eyes, the ILP was for the workers,

whereas the CCFers were depicted as standing for their party and their platform alone. It was “as

good an example as any of the type of political strategy which is wrecking the Left Wing

movement in Canadian politics,” intoned the ILP-sympathetic Herald.95

The challenges of the

Depression amplified this division. With relief camp strikes, unemployed protests, and new

union-organizing drives, the CCF had moved further away in some eyes, from labourite

respectability. Of their support for relief camp strikes, the Spectator’s editor wrote, “these CCF

officials… little realize what the effect of their action may be; but that does not make it less

dangerous and reprehensible.”96

These CCF officials may have been the Spectator’s villains, but plainly the ILP leaders

also exercised some agency in this moment of division. In the words of the Herald, “It is the

appalling political strategy of that movement’s supporters in Canada. In their enthusiasm for the

cause, they have disregarded the simple truth that a team cannot win a tug-of-war if its members

are pulling in opposite directions… it is time they thought more of the movement and less of

themselves.”97

The Spectator echoed these concerns:

Had Labour stuck to sound traditional policies, as exemplified by former

stalwarts like Allan Studholme, and in the Present day by leaders of Mr.

94 Hamilton Spectator, “Labour-CCF Hostility is Given Airing,” 2 February 1935.

95 Hamilton Herald, “Labour Strategy,”4 December 1934.

96 Hamilton Spectator, “Red Challenge Met,” 2 July 1935. Again in this article, which was about a move

the paper did not support, the CCFers were assailed as “reds.” This shifting definition of the party allowed

the press and public to draw the alleged Communism of the CCF out at any moment as an insult, should

one be needed. Hamilton Spectator, “Charges CCF Hand in Glove with Communism,” 30 September 1935. 97

Hamilton Herald, “Labour Strategy,”4 December 1934.

111

Humphrey Mitchell’s type, it would not have to deplore the check it has

received from the electors of Hamilton. The candidates who survived the test

are of the moderate constitutional school of thought; the workers have shown

that ruddy political hues, of whatever shade, are not to their taste.98

The overt politicization of the party, its separation from its traditional working-class roots, its

murky relations with the despised Communists: in its three-part indictment of the ILP, the

Spectator also captured the constitutional, conservative and ethical world from which the party

had allegedly departed. Mitchell lost his seat in October 1935, and “the bitter strife in the ranks of

East Hamilton Labour” was considered the major cause of the return of the Conservative Party in

that riding.99

While Anything But Conservative campaigns had helped see him in, an electoral

struggle that included Liberal, Reconstruction, CCF, and Conservative candidates overwhelmed

him by splitting his vote among three other candidates.100

The seemingly final nail in the coffin of

the party was the 1935 civic elections which saw the defeat of every single ILP candidate and

only Agnes Sharpe’s repeat victory for the CCF side. The Labor News suggested that “One of

these fine days the Canadian workers might realize the error that has been made and endeavour to

build the Labor Party.”101

However, for the ILP its 1930s boom was all but done. Never again

would it re-experience earlier successes. While the CCF would eventually rebuild some of its

core support, many more like Humphrey Mitchell would turn away to a more liberal alternative.

For the rest of the Depression, such divisions did not help labour. Rather than resulting in a more

radical CCF alternative, it resulted in a retrenchment of the traditional conservative liberal order.

Ultimately this perceived division between “good” and “bad” labour politics would have

a lasting effect on Hamilton’s political scene at all levels. The losses suffered by both parties

were not redeemed in the 1935 council elections. In the federal election the following fall, even

Humphrey Mitchell himself fell victim to the left’s divisions. He lost his federal seat to a

98 Hamilton Spectator, “The New Council,” 4 December 1934.

99 Hamilton Spectator, “Well, That’s That!” 15 October 1935.

100 Ibid.

101 Labor News, “Not So Good,” 21 December 1935.

112

Conservative, even though the Liberal Party had again decided not to run a candidate in hopes

that Mitchell would be victorious.102

Among the parties running in that riding were the CCF and

former Conservative Minister of Trade H.H. Stevens’s Reconstruction Party, a totally new party

on the Canadian scene in the 1935 election.103

The CCF candidate questioned Mitchell’s

dedication to the labour movement and the unemployed. It hinted that he did not know or care

about the unemployed workers’ strike because he was too involved with Ottawa politics and not

enough with working-class concerns.104

His setback was reportedly due to “the bitter strife in the

ranks of East Hamilton… [which] accounted for the Conservative victory… Mr. Humphrey

Mitchell, the organized Labour candidate [who] ran true to form in the sporting, clean and above-

board manner in which he conducted his campaign… [and] defeated both the Reconstructionist

and CCF candidates,” ultimately could not overcome what was seen as a now three-way divided

working class and radical vote.105

The ILP held on to its love for him and believed that he had

“lost none of his popularity and unquestionably stands stronger in the minds of the people of

Hamilton than had he won.”106

“A victim of… the split between the Labor party and CCF,”

Mitchell had maintained in every way the values of the party, but nonetheless fell in spite of his

“clean campaign.”107

Similarly, Lawrence too would lose his seat after the tentative political alliance that had

pulled together to get him elected in 1934 had collapsed into its original pieces by the 1937

provincial election. Unfortunately, as the Ontario Legislature did not keep consolidated debate

102 Hamilton Spectator, “Well, That’s That,” 15 October 1935. The CCF candidate in the riding, John

Mitchell, was also unsuccessful and was described frequently as being part of and supported by the CPC,

by way of insulting him. Hamilton Spectator, “The Two Mitchells,” 10 October 1935. 103

Relatively little work has been done on the Reconstruction Party, likely because the party ran only in the

1935 election and was able to elect only one of their candidates successfully. For a deeper view of the

evolution of the party than is possible here, see the following research on the topic: Gary Howard Joel

Cwitco, “H.H. Stevens and the Reconstruction Party: a Conservative Revolt,” (M.A. Thesis, University of

Western Ontario, 1973); John Richard Humphrey Wilbur, H.H. Stevens, 1878-1973 (Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 1977). 104

Trade Unionist, letter to the editor “Consistency,” Hamilton Spectator, 16 February 1935. 105

Hamilton Spectator, “Well, That’s That,” 15 October 1935. 106

Labor News, “A Victim of Circumstances,” 31 October 1935. 107

Ibid.

113

records, little can be told about his time there, except that he “criticize[d] the capitalist system,

advocate[d] a socialized economy, through constitutional methods, and predict[ed] a continuance

of hard times unless the present economic machines were scrapped.”108

So after October 1937,

Lawrence returned to his first political home, city council and the Board of Control and

accordingly was welcomed back to municipal politics. Losing his seat just in time to run for

council, in which election he finished first, Lawrence had clearly maintained his base. “The

strength of Controller Lawrence’s support was impressive, particularly in Ward Eight where he

polled more than 1,000 votes over his nearest competitor.”109

Then Mayor Morrison welcomed

back a “genuinely delighted” Lawrence as “a man of valuable experience and one with whom I

have sat in council in the most satisfactory and harmonious relationships.” 110

As Lawrence and Mitchell’s respective paths through Depression-era politics

demonstrate, the 1930s remained an age of liberal political values in Hamilton. The ILP’s

concerns for trade unionism, constitutional politics, moderate reforms for workers and the

unemployed were of a piece with the city’s political climate. Such moderate labourism continued

to win the acceptance of the Hamilton press, even after the ILP’s decline in popularity.

Indeed, Hamiltonians were thoroughly divided on what to think about the CCF,

socialism, trade unionism, and labour conditions in the city.111

There was no one-to-one

correspondence linking working-class and socialist politics. While the city’s political leaders and

the discourse that surrounded their political service and identity had incorporated, and indeed

often idealized, the city’s last labour politician, Allan Studholme, they often used Studholme as a

rhetorical device to denounce radicalism. Despite the fact that such an unbroken rule of

108 Hamilton Spectator, “Lawrence Flays Capitalism and Attacks Relief,” 13 March 1935

109 Hamilton Spectator, “The New Council,” 7 December 1937. Ward Eight was the most eastern ward, and

included much of the harbour front property the Steel Company of Canada and the Dominion Foundry and

Steel Corporation works were located. It was the most recently developed working-class neighbourhood,

formed out of former townships that had bordered the city’s eastern end. While it included some of the

city’s more rural land, the bulk of its population worked at the nearby plants, choosing the region for its

proximity to their workplaces. 110

Ibid. 111

Hamilton Spectator, “Letters to the Editor,” 16 March 1932.

114

Conservative politicians could itself be described as an undemocratic dictatorship, many

Hamiltonians seemingly endorsed these critiques of the CCF, socialism, and trade unionism. In

their understanding of CCF-style public ownership, it would not increase public control and

decrease prices but rather remove consumer choice and eliminate competition. While industries

were in reality under the control of the few, writers expressed concerns about “open[ing] the door

wider still for the curse of political interference and patronage in commercial enterprises. Those

who have studied the complicated set-up of the present government will welcome the day when

the slogan of the people will be ‘get the government out of business and keep them out.’”112

Such

classical liberal arguments seemingly still swayed many Hamiltonians.

Part of the concern about the CCF was that the party was anti-religious and would draw

members away from the church to the party, which was claimed to require utter devotion to itself

alone.113

Fed by misrepresentations and unclear public statements from the party itself, it was not

until the late 1930s that people began to view the CCF as a legitimate political party and not some

sort of foreign conspiracy. As one writer put it, “This new menace must be exposed. Those who

have strayed will re-enter the fold. Wake up young Canadians, you have yet time to avert a

dictatorship.”114

These fears about the unchristian nature of the party were those of a minority,

112 An Interested Observer, Letter to the editor, “CCF and Coal Prices,” Hamilton Spectator, 15 February

1939. 113

Seymour Martin Lipset, Agrarian Socialism: The Cooperative Commonwealth Federation in

Saskatchewan (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971) Chapter 7; David Quiring, CCF

Colonialism in Northern Saskatchewan: Battling Parish Priests, Bootleggers, and Fur Sharks (Vancouver:

University of British Columbia Press, 2004). 114

Epworth Leaguer, letter to the editor, “Calls CCF Menace,” Hamilton Spectator, 28 January 1935. The

Epworth League was a transnational Methodist youth group. Unfortunately, records for church youth

groups are sparse for Hamilton. However, each Anglican and United church for which records, such as

service records and organizational memorandum, exist did host at least one and from existing records it is

evident that they did serve as an important outlet for Hamiltonians, especially young people and young

married couples. Young People's Union minutes 1938-1941, Calvary United Church, 17 October 1938, box

5, file 3, Calvary United Church Collection, UCCA. Phyllis D. Airhart, Serving the Present Age:

Revivalism, Progressivism and the Methodist Tradition in Canada (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-

Queen’s University Press, 1992). Opinions on the Christian nature of socialism went both ways as well,

with many writers claiming that socialism was what Jesus would have supported and that while “historical

materialism according to Karl Marx is one way” to find socialism, “The social implications of Christ’s

teachings is another.” Social Justice, letter to the editor “Christianity and Socialism,” Hamilton Spectator,

115

though a very vocal one whose anti-socialist fervour was not theirs alone. They expressed a

common fear that the CCF posed a threat to British-Canadian values. Sometimes letters

expressing these fears demonstrated an extremely unchristian view themselves, with one anti-

socialist writer passing on some “gardening advice” for politics: “Dick the amateur gardener says

arsenate of lead is a good antidote for destructive parasites: let us feed our human worms a few

pounds of it and rid ourselves of the worst pests that ever sponged upon a fellow-being. Free

speech, yes; but not free and unbridled agitation against the well-being of our country, our

families, and our homes.”115

The CCF’s “stupid approach to Canadian conditions” was seen to be

based on misunderstandings of principles as fundamental as those of the British constitution.

Some in Hamilton struggled to see how the CCF could ever fit in.116

To many in the public, this

unfamiliar “Socialism” logically meant “communism.” And communism meant the collapse of

society itself, especially the much-cherished family.117

19 July 1932. However, one reverend felt that he had to resign his post because he became the president of

the local CCF club and felt the two together formed a conflict of interest for him. Hamilton Spectator,

“Minister Resigns,” 3 April 1934. Hamilton’s United Churches were sometimes seen as in fact being too

friendly towards labour. Reverend Norman Rawson, of one of the city’s wealthiest and largest churches

received a letter from a former friend in the mining town of Cobalt cautioning him that through involving

itself with labour, “the united [sic] Church is playing with dynamite and that a continuance along the same

lines will bust our church wide open.” Letter to Rev. Norman Rawson from R.S. Taylor, New Liskeard,

Ontario, dated 13 September 1942 regarding labour, box 28, file 5, Centenary United Church collection,

UCCA. For further information on the evolution of this debate see Ramsay Cook, The Regenerators: Social

Criticism in Late Victorian English Canada, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985); Robert H.

Dennis, "Beginning to Restructure the Institutional Church: Canadian Social Catholics and the CCF, 1931-

1944," Historical Studies, 74 (2008): 51-71; Michel Horn, The League for Social Reconstruction:

Intellectual Origins of the Democratic Left in Canada 1930-1942 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,

1980); Ian McKay, Reasoning Otherwise: Leftists and the People’s Enlightenment in Canada, 1890-1920

(Toronto: Between the Lines, 2008). 115

Charles B. Stebbing, letter to the editor “A Toast to ‘Anti-Socialist’,” Hamilton Spectator, 14 December

1931. 116

Native Born, letter to the editor “CCF’s ‘Stupid’ Approach,” Hamilton Spectator, 14 January 1935. A

response to this letter pointed out that Canadians were free to insult each other along whatever divisions

they wished, so long as they did not insult the idea of Canadianism itself. A Native Daughter, letter to the

Editor “Self-Criticism,” Hamilton Spectator, 17 January 1935. 117

Much like those focused on Communism and the CPC, discussions of socialism could often devolve to

its alleged foreign roots, especially as Germany’s National Socialists became increasingly viewed with

pessimism. Thus socialist-friendly letter writers tried to tie the CCF to Canadian things exactly like

Christianity. As one writer wrote, “Why Blame Russia [for hating the excesses of capitalism]? There is one

religion that teaches that ‘there is no better way of serving God than being kind and merciful to the things

116

The actions of some CCF members in Hamilton did not help with the public’s perception

that they did not care for the fabric of Canadian society. When Alderman Sharpe, then the sole

representative of the CCF on Hamilton’s City Council, refused to sign a letter of condolence to

Queen Mary following the death of King George V, it caused controversy, not because her anti-

militaristic stance was necessarily unpopular among the groups that sometimes shared her views,

but rather because not to mourn the King was to be unCanadian. And as the only CCF

representative on council, her views were equated with those of the whole party. “At last,” wrote

one United Empire Loyalist (UEL) to the Spectator, which in this case whole-heartedly shared a

writer’s view, “my suspicions concerning the CCF have been adequately confirmed… Even the

Communists showed reverence for our late monarch and sent a representative from bolshevik

Russia to attend his funeral.”118

The views expressed about the CCF were part of broader concerns expressed by the

Spectator’s readers about the state of labour and labour organization in the city. The Depression

had brought to the forefront concerns about the sustainability of current capitalism and the trade

and craft union system that had been delicately fostered in Hamilton since the nineteenth century.

The newly burgeoning system of unionizing everyone and anyone threatened this order. It also

menaced the traditional protective and conservative role that craft unions had played in

Hamilton’s industrial landscape. As one reader wrote, it was not unions they were concerned

about but rather what were seen as unrealistic demands on the system by catch-all unions that

combined farmers, unskilled labourers, and tradesmen under the one label of “workers.” A good

trade unionist would not, the reader postulated, “mix with those that are prostituting our noble

trade union ethics that men have fought for and starved through strikes and some have died.”119

Self-described traditional unionists, often identified as coming from Scotland and England, wrote

he has created.’” W.H. Moore, letter to the editor “The Golden Rule,” Hamilton Spectator, 28 January

1935. 118

United Empire Loyalist, letter to the editor “CCF’s Loyalty,” Hamilton Spectator, 21 February 1936. 119

Charles A. Ricketts, letter to the editor, “Critic of Unions,” Hamilton Spectator, 23 February 1933.

117

in complaining of everything from radical sit-down strikes, the alleged ignorance of young labour

leaders and especially politicians who were seen as falsely donning the mantle of labour for their

own purposes, and the new upstart unions’ insulting critique of craft unionism.120

These angry,

anxious letters spoke to the deep insecurity that these trade unionists, and others within the

movement, felt about the declining status of skilled workers in the mechanized age. While these

workers insulted the new unions, their own organizations discussed what their future was to be in

the rapidly changing job market.121

Many of the letter writers were as much mourning the demise

of what had been as they were rallying against what was to come.

Rabid anti-CCF and anti-socialist tirades voiced by those who wrote in to the Spectator

were rarely focused just on what they wrote about directly. In these pages, self-identified workers

used this opportunity to discuss deeper questions about life in the modern city and workplace and

the perceived disconnect between improving productivity and devolving living conditions for its

workers. These letters demonstrated obvious sympathies with the need for more radical change.

As one writer postulated, “Canada, while boasting of her wonderful resources and productive

abilities reverts back to medieval law and customs, when it comes to providing and caring for the

120 O. Bayliffe, letter to the editor “Criticizes Labour Leader,” Hamilton Spectator, 12 March 1937; J.

Lovell, letter to the editor “Mr. Lovell Replies,” Hamilton Spectator, 22 February 1937; J. Lovell, letter to

the editor “Sit-Down Strikes,” Hamilton Spectator, 19 March 1937. 121

The International Pressman’s and Assistant’s Union (IPAU) Local 205’s records express this discomfort

clearly. As more transnational workplace-focused unions moved on to the Hamilton scene, the union

debated back and forth what “bona-fide” unions such as themselves should do. The insecurity created by

the depression amplified these feelings of uncertainty, even though the organized nature of the IPAU did

allow it to exert some power over the city’s own publications and printing presses within the region.

Minutes of the IPAU 176, 14 August 1936, box 1, file 5, IPAU Local 176 fonds, WRDARC; Minutes of

the IPAU 176, 9 April 1937, box 1, file 4, IPAU Local 176 fonds, WRDARC. This debate was constantly

raised at the District TLC, where what constituted membership was under ongoing debate. Minutes of

regular meeting of the AFL-affiliated HDLC, 18 November 1937, HDLC fonds, unboxed minute book,

WRDARC. This debate was ultimately settled when industrial unions were expelled from the Canadian

Trades and Labour Congress in 1939, with the resulting split creating the Canadian Congress of Labour in

1940 and the retention of Trades and Labour Congress, containing older trade and craft-based unions. Peter

McInnis, Harnessing Labour Confrontation: Shaping the Postwar Settlement in Canada, 1943-1950

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), 31-3.

118

unfortunate unemployed… Is it not time for Canada to move forward… or will it be necessary for

Canada to await the birth of a Cromwell or a Lenin?”122

Some were inspired by a growing movement in the city to educate workers, fed by

Humphrey Mitchell’s inspirational speeches about libraries serving as the universities of the

working class. Workers were cautioned that “many unskilled people try to adjust the mechanism

[of capitalism] without first arriving at a proper understanding of what made the wheels go

around before.”123

Such brash souls were encouraged to first understand the principles of labour

policy in Hamilton before trying to overthrow them. McMaster University, the University of

Toronto, the Hamilton and District TLC, and even the CPC ran educational workshops on diverse

topics such as an early form of labour history, economics, organizing, legal rights of workers, and

more radical options as well.124

The issue of mechanization had become a big one on the Board of

Control, whose members frequently argued about whether machines should be used on public

works during the Depression, when men were available to do the work.125

Opinions were divided

between those who thought labour-saving machines were a great tool to create leisure for the

working classes and those who felt that leisure, as evidenced by the Depression, could hardly be

enjoyed by those whose jobs had disappeared thanks to the machines.

The Spectator published many letters which were critical of the CCF, but surprisingly it

also published many from its defenders. Interestingly, many speak to the state of denial that those

122 A.C. Avery, letter to the editor “Labour and Social System,” Hamilton Spectator, 9 April 1934.

123 Letter to the editor “Labour Leadership,” Hamilton Spectator, 4 November 1937

124 Minutes of the Regular Meeting of the AFL-affiliated HDLC, 18 November 1937, Unboxed Minutes

Book, HDLC fonds, WRDARC; Pamphlet “Let us Learn from the First of May,” early 1930s, box1, file 3,

Hamilton Labor-Progressive Party fonds, WRDARC; Draft Resolution for the Movement for Civic

Progress, Communist Party of Canada Convention 1937, box 2, file 6, Robert S. Kenney Collection,

TFRBL 125

William Cox, letter to the editor, “Machine and Labor,” Hamilton Spectator, 3 February 1931; A.

Johnson, letter to the editor, “Machine and Labor,” Hamilton Spectator, 12 February 1931. These

complaints about machine work were not supported by the International Association of Machinists (IAM)

Local 414 which had provided most of the city’s machine work and thus suffered when the city transferred

away from machine works. Eventually with larger scale projects, they were needed again, but not after a

troubling atmosphere of uncertainty had been created. Minutes of the IAM 414, 6 August 1930, IAM Local

414 fonds, file 6, box 1, WRDARC.

119

attacking the CCF often adopted in their epistles. The CCF, they claimed, was only considered

radical because it spoke the truth about the conditions of the country. Hamiltonians, rather than

hiding from reality, “must face these facts squarely and not try to make [themselves] believe that

things will right themselves. What we must do is change our system and adopt the CCF plan of

nationalization.”126

As many of Hamilton’s formerly reliable ILP politicians had overnight

become embattled CCF candidates, this new reality was even easier for some to accept.127

For

others, these new CCFers, having abandoned what was seen as a respected political movement

with historical roots in the city and an integrated place in its political discourses for a party that

was new, unknown, and perhaps even faddish, showed what dismal specimens they were. Often

the CCFers’ communications sought to assuage middle-class worries about the party’s platform.

For example, one CCF member wrote in a detailed, two-column-long response explaining the

party’s stance on religion, noting that CCFers were mostly Christians, that their membership

included a number of “clergymen of different denominations,” and one could even count a

number of devout Catholics within their ranks.128

This letter clearly stated that the party was not

what everyone feared, namely a group “associated with the anti-religious doctrines of the Russian

Communists,” who had lately been in the news for their ongoing purges of religious leaders, but

rather a group of well-educated Christians looking to emulate Christ’s thoughts and actions.129

Other letters worked on clarifying specific points of the CCF platform, such as its plans for

126 F.E.W., letter to the editor “CCF Enthusiast,” Hamilton Spectator, 10 August 1935.

127 Co-operator, letter to the editor, “Ald. Pollock and CCF,” Hamilton Spectator, 18 September 1934. As

mentioned above, this divide proved a constant challenge for the Hamilton CCF, especially as both parties

continued to run often confusingly similar candidates. However, as one letter writer noted, though they had

been elected under the joint CCF/ ILP banner, “we would like to point out that in the year 1934 the CCF

members then serving in the City Council proved beyond contradiction that… the CCF has a definite

program of which the above [plans to economize municipal government through socialized relief] is one

plank, [and] that it appeals to the electorate as a political party.” William Dodge, CCF Secretary Ontario

Section, letter to the editor, “CCF and Civic Elections,” Hamilton Spectator, 9 February 1939. 128

CCF Member, letter to the Editor, “CCF and Religion,” Hamilton Spectator, 18 November 1938. 129

Ibid.

120

providing relief, its internationalism, and its plans for the economy.130

These letters often ran

alongside the front page of high-circulation Spectator, otherwise disinclined to run stories about

the party except at election time. The hope was that through these letters more people would

come to understand the CCF’s plainly written platform. Through such education, “a man or

woman holding a membership card in the CCF movement will not be stigmatized or branded as a

wide-eyed red, etc. because they hold advanced social views.”131

Similar hopes for re-educating

the population of Hamilton were echoed by those who welcomed the expanding industrial labour

movement in the city.

A Fear of American-style Organizing: Old Labour Versus New in the Late Depression

The split between the CCF and the ILP was part of a transformation in the consensus

across the continent about what labour was and who deserved a union. In Hamilton, the first and

largest unions had been formed by its craft workers.132

These unions continued to exert power in

the 1930s through their traditional employer-employee networks, as was demonstrated by the

city’s numerous back-and-forth exchanges with type-setters, painters, machinists, and other

skilled-workers unions dealing with municipal departments.133

Yet numbered among the

130Scottie, Letter to the Editor, “CCF’s Position,” Hamilton Spectator, 23 June 1934; Bill Paterson, letter to

the editor, “Praises Young CCFers,” Hamilton Spectator, 12 November 1935; J. Lloyd Harrington, letter to

the editor, “CCYM Resolution,” Hamilton Spectator, 12 November 1935; Member of the CCF, letter to the

editor, “CCF and Confiscation,” Hamilton Spectator, 7 June 1934. 131

A Native Born CCF’er, letter to the Editor, “CCF Leadership,” Hamilton Spectator, 21 January 1935.

Unfortunately for the CCF membership, these letters to the editor were one of the ways their messages

were communicated. They struggled well into the 1950s to get people to even read their literature. Minutes

of the Hamilton-Wentworth CCF Council, 10 September 1951, Box 14, file 1, HDLC fonds, WRDARC. 132

For a detailed study of the evolution and creation of these unions, see Heron, “Working-Class

Hamilton”; Kristofferson, Craft Capitalism; Palmer, A Culture in Conflict. 133

Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1933, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1933

(Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 8 May 1933; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1935, Minutes of

Hamilton Board of Control, 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1936), 3 October 1935; Meeting of City of Hamilton,

Board of Control, 1938, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1938 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1939), 28

January 1938; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1938, Minutes of Hamilton Board of

Control, 1938 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1939), 10 February 1938; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of

Control, 1938, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1938 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1939), 21 April 1938;

121

manufactories attracted to Hamilton in the 1920s were many whose labour processes and

hierarchies did not fit traditional craft boundaries. This new situation posed a growing conundrum

for craft unionists who confronted labour processes to which their age-old definitions did not

readily correspond. These new enterprises posed an equally profound problem for the ILP, so

intricately interwoven as it was with the traditional craft unions. This had not been an issue

during years of relative prosperity in the 1920s. Yet once the Depression hit, and jobs and hours

were cut, Hamilton and Canada as a whole began to see radical changes in workers’

organizations.134

In addition to job cuts, Hamilton’s local industries had begun to suffer from an

increasingly noticeable shortage of supplies and tools which made work more difficult and

dangerous for remaining workers.135

Such shortages put pressure on craft boundaries. Industrial

workers began to question the existing order and organize accordingly. These new unions

reflected the new style of the CCF, in that rather than accommodating conservative liberal

traditions in the industrial order, they sought to overturn that order and restructure relationships

so that they could exert more power in what they saw as an increasingly monopolized and top-

heavy industrial capitalism.

As Charles Millard, the first head of the Steel Workers Organizing Committee (SWOC)

in Canada which was based in Hamilton in 1939, told Morden Lazarus in 1975, Hamilton’s

industrial unions in the 1930s, even the most radical ones led by Thomas McClure, “were simply

standing still.”136

McClure, a born-and-bred Hamiltonian steel worker was among the founding

members of the SWOC and served on the Stelco Works Committee, even as he pushed for its

replacement with a USWA Local to serve its workers. Perhaps this assessment may have been a

Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1939, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1939

(Hamilton, Ontario: 1940), 20 January 1939. 134

For more information on the growth of CIO-affiliated unions see Wendy Cuthbertson, Labour Goes to

War: The CIO and the Construction of a New Social Order, 1939-45 (Vancouver: University of British

Columbia Press, 2012); Penner, From Protest to Power. 135

Hamilton Spectator, “Scarcity of Materials, Skilled Labour Developing,” 23 June 1937. 136

Transcript of Interview between Morden Lazarus and Charles Millard, box 129, file 1, USWA fonds,

LAC.

122

little harsh, as while the newly organizing CIO-affiliated unions may not have done much in

terms of striking or collective bargaining, their numbers and their reputations were growing.137

One of the largest industries to come to Hamilton was the Westinghouse Company,

which had built its first Hamilton factory in 1896. It had grown significantly since, and its

expansion to the lamp plant in 1925 suggested how advantageous the company found its

Hamilton location.138

However, declining profits meant declining employment and increased

interest in unionizing. As a result, in 1937 the Hamilton workers at Canadian Westinghouse

began to organize. While previously some workers within the plant had created craft unions, this

time a group of workers decided to organize through the CIO-affiliated United Electrical, Radio

and Machine Workers (UEW), with the designation of Local 504.139

Local 504 publication The

Union Light claimed that these new industrial unions would lead to plant-wide prosperity and

cited the American example: “The workers must follow the examples of their brothers on the

other side of the border who are gaining increases wherever they have begun to organize… In

some plants they have had several increases, the Westinghouse workers can anticipate a similar

experience in the very near future.”140

However, the road was not smooth to plant-wide

affiliation, in spite of numerous membership drives. Only war-time labour legislation would

enable the union to sign its first agreement with management in 1941. Unlike the craft unions of

Hamilton’s past, this union spoke of appropriating CEO wages, restructuring plant ownership to

137 This fear of American-style organization and the CIO was felt throughout Ontario’s political ranks.

Mitchell Hepburn kept a file of Anti-CIO source material to draw on in his speeches on the subject that

included a confidential memorandum stating, “We resent, as Canadians, and properly so, the intrusion into

our midst of American labor leaders seeking to thrust their political and economic views and ambitions

upon not only Canadian industry, but upon the Canadian people.” Memorandum, “Just Another

Memorandum,” 1930s, RG-3-9-0-9, Mitchell Hepburn Speech Material fonds, AofO. 138

Employee written history “A Chronicle of Who Did What When Where and Why at the Hoose,” early

1970s, box 10, file 12, Westinghouse Canada Fonds, WRDARC. 139

Due to the fear of being fired for starting a union, the early records of the UEW Local 504 rarely

mention names, except for larger organizational presidents and external organizers, who often did not

actually work at the plant, or politicians, such as the predictably sympathetic Sam Lawrence. Thus, it is

impossible to tell specific names until the union was secure and shop stewards and Local presidents were

named. Circular, “Mass Protest Meet,” regarding alleged union-related firings, April 1937, UEW Local

504/550 fonds, file 1, box 1, WRDARC. 140

The Union Light, vol. 1, no. 2, April 1937, UEW Local 504/550 fonds, file 1, box 1, WRDARC.

123

save money, and “Americanizing” its negotiating process.141

These changing ideals spoke to the

increasing radicalization of Hamilton’s workers through the introduction of CIO-affiliated unions.

CIO-affiliated unions were also often linked, sometimes even publicly, with the CPC, which

pointed to a shift in political orientation as well.142

While many workers in this period remained

aloof, that so many others chose to attend affiliation meetings speaks to a growing mood of

radicalism. Many craft unionists did not agree with the adoption of new, American-style – i.e.

industrial – organizing.

The CIO’s growing strength was demonstrated by Thomas McClure’s success as a union

organizer. These unions demonstrated notable signs of growth and activity, especially when

compared with their inert craft competitors. In the latter half of the 1930s union activity spread to

one of the city’s largest employers, when McClure and the SWOC began efforts in earnest to

have a union recognized as the official bargaining unit for the Stelco’s Hamilton Works.143

Organization of a Steelworkers Union began slowly, with limited membership drives beginning

in 1934 and a charter finally signed in 1935. After a brief strike for recognition, Stelco agreed that

some form of representation was acceptable, though through an employee representation system

headed by the company. It then organized an internal employee works council “on the British

Model,” which dealt with many issues that would later engage the union, such as production and

141 The Union Light, UEW Local 504/550 fonds, file 1, box 1, WRDARC. “American-Style” unions and

references to “Americanizing” organizations were popular terms for the industrial unionization process, as

led by the CIO which were gaining most of their popularity, and notoriety, south of the border at this early

point. The reference to American-style organizing was used by both critics and joiners of these

organizations. While to one group it meant potential success in advancing the cause of the working class,

the ongoing fears of American domination of Canada were already carrying powerful connotations in pre-

war Canada and this term was used negatively by groups who worried about its implications for Canadian

capital. 142

The CIO relied on Communist organizers in its formative years in the late-1930s. Irving Abella,

Nationalism, Communism, and Canadian Labour: the CIO, the Communist Party, and the Canadian

Congress of Labour, 1935-1956 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1973). Both Thomas and Robert

McClure would go on to run for the CPC provincially, so their affiliation with the party was hardly a secret.

Robert McClure was also interned during the Second World War for his subversive activities, which will be

discussed later. 143

Thomas McClure’s memoirs of Local 1005 certification, undated, Thomas McClure sub-fonds, USWA

Local 1005 fonds, file 12, box 1, WRDARC.

124

employment levels, lay-offs, wages, pensions, holidays, seniority, familial hires, firings, and

accidents and plant safety. It hoped to see a new regime “established by agreement with our

employees [and] elected by secret ballot [to] represent the interests of the employees in…

negotiations affecting our joint interests.”144

McClure sat on this council prior to beginning to

organize a union, and was among its most active members, inquiring after and following up with

many of the cases brought before the board.145

The industrial union movement grew slowly. McClure tried to work on its behalf within

his workplace. Eventually deciding on the CIO-affiliated SWOC, the former Stelco Union

became the Amalgamated Association of Iron, Steel and Tin Workers of North America Lodge

1005 in 1938. Its organizing was stepped up with SWOC’s support.146

McClure proposed that the

workers at the Hamilton Stelco, Algoma Steel, and Sydney Dosco workers all unionize to better

“conditions throughout the industry.”147

Recognition drives were held throughout 1939. The

company slammed the union as an attempt “to undermine the relations of this company with its

employees… [through] false statements and misrepresentations.”148

H.G. Hilton, then the vice-

president of Stelco and McClure’s most visible opponent, echoed the conservative belief that

negotiations should be conducted directly between like groups of employees and the employer –

the old works model – and not through a foreign “organization with communistic associations and

supported by US funds.”149

144 Letter to Thomas McClure from H.G. Hilton, vice-president of Stelco, regarding industrial relations, 30

November 1939, box 1, file 11, USWA Local 1005 fonds, , WRDARC; Thomas McClure’s memoirs of

Local 1005 certification, undated, Thomas McClure sub-fonds, box 1, file 12, USWA Local 1005 fonds,

WRDARC. 145

Minutes of the Stelco Hamilton Works Council, 15 December 1936, box 1, file 2, USWA Local 1005

fonds, WRDARC. 146

Letter to Thomas McClure, President of Local 1005, from J.F. March, Deputy Minister of Labour,

regarding union activities, 10 October 1938, box 25, file 10, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 147

Pamphlet “Men of Stelco, Local 1005 Authorization Day,” 1939, box 25, file 11, USWA Local 1005

fonds, WRDARC. 148

Letter to Thomas McClure from H.G. Hilton, vice-president of Stelco, regarding industrial relations, 30

November 1939, box 1, file 11, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 149

Letter to McClure from Hilton, 30 November 1939, box 1, file 11, USWA Local 1005 fonds,

WRDARC.

125

This new form of labour organizing became especially public after news spread of

American style sit-down strikes. Though Hamilton did not see one of these strikes, the fear of

them became front page news.150

“Any Workers who might attempt a sit-down strike would have

scant sympathy from Mayor William Morrison, K.C., who looks on this form of protest as an

illegal occupation of another person’s public property that should be handled by the police as

would any other breech of the law,” the Spectator observed.151

While strikes themselves were not

uncommon in Hamilton, this new form of organization did not seem to follow familiar rules and

allegedly indicated little concern for employer-employee harmony.152

These new organizations

also led to increased friction within Hamilton’s TLC. As Lawrence told the Trades and Labour

Congress of Canada, the labour movement in Hamilton was irretrievably split. “Instead of

progress in our movement there has been disintegration. You can’t organize unorganized labour

without unity. This movement is too great for personal recrimination… So long as we in Canada

can preserve unity in Canada so much more chance is there of conserving unity in the United

States.”153

The TLC would not remain united for long. It split into the AFL-affiliated TLC and the

CIO-affiliated HDLC. Just as the mid-1930s split of the ILP and CCF suggested the old

conservative liberal framework was eroding, so too did this even more consequential division

with the house of labour foreshadow a new, more conflictual era in the industrial world.

As Hamilton’s workplaces became more diverse and massive, they also became

increasingly foreign entities, and became ever further removed from the structures approved by

the AFL-affiliated TLC and the trade-union-oriented ILP. These differences deepened the split

150 Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Sees No Danger of Labour Shortage,” 12 March 1937.

151 Ibid.

152 In addition to what employers being a more tense time for employer/ employee relations, this era also

saw a shift in tone towards strike-breakers. Vilified in union newsletters, one letter to the editor in the

Spectator proclaimed them to be “an anti-social member of the community… he has no political or

economic philosophy whatsoever but in any case in which he became articulate he would be forced by the

logic of the circumstance to assert his temporary gain should be protected even at the expense of the

calamity of the many.” V.J. Baldarassi, letter to the editor, “Strike-Breakers,” Hamilton Spectator, 24

September 1934. 153

Hamilton Spectator, “Trades Congress Avoids Split on CIO Question,” 15 September 1938.

126

between old and new labour. A younger generation of union organizers firmly rejected the liberal

ideals that Hamilton’s founding political, cultural, and labour organizations had cherished and

nurtured under former co-operative paternalistic (“British”) systems of decision making and

contract negotiating. These new unions opted instead for the oft-critiqued “American style” of

organizing, based on an oppositional relationship between employer and employee. As

workplaces and the labour council itself split, the opposing sides continued to express themselves

using or rejecting the language of liberalism that had permeated the older generations’ vision of a

progressive future for labour. This division, seen both through the formation of new unions and

the CCF-ILP split, would have serious consequences for the perceived stability of these liberal

traditions in the city.

127

Chapter 5: “[Coming] Home Again to be Replenished with Mother’s

Ideals”: Women’s Roles in the Public Sphere, Politics, and Personal

Activism During the Great Depression

The Proper Role of a Woman: Mothering, Marrying, and Volunteering in Depression-Era

Hamilton

In the past, historians have often described Hamilton as a starkly divided city, with its

businessmen and political elites on the one side and its proletarians on the other. Earlier chapters

have qualified this interpretation by outlining the extent to which a civic ideal of service, duly

promoted by its press, could be put to work to soften stark class divisions – a move whose

effectiveness was affirmed in the recurring success of emphatically non-proletarian political

candidates, even those running for labour, in such a supposedly proletarian city. This chapter

traces this same theme with respect to interwar gender politics in the city. It demonstrates that

middle-class wives, mothers, and daughters achieved considerable power within civil society – in

paid and volunteer social welfare work, in patriotic organizations such as the IODE, and in

professions such as journalism. To a lesser extent, they even made their presence felt within

political society through election to city council and in federal electoral contests. Such women’s

activism effectively challenged any simple two-class model of Hamilton. Not only did it provide

an alternative reading of the social order, but it also spoke to the daily preoccupations of working

people, who could find in the birth-control clinic, the maternal health campaigns, or struggles

over unemployment relief a selective confirmation of their own identities and concerns. The

career of Nora-Frances Henderson suggests the extent to which a consideration of gender ideals

and politics can complicate any notion of Hamilton as an archetypically proletarian city; and that

of Agnes Sharpe, her radical counterpart, can be read as one which, in suggesting that Hamilton

had room for a dissenting view of a women’s place in politics, also confirms the capacity of an

interwar hegemonic liberal order to marginalize its radical critics.

128

Hamilton’s middle- and upper-class wives and mothers, most of them related in some

fashion to the city’s “wealthiest and most influential men,” had been involved in formal,

organized, mostly Christian charitable endeavours for at least a century by the time of the

Depression.1 Women’s involvement in the public sphere, and their creation of an informal but

vital welfare state supported by largely civic charitable organizations, had long been legitimized

and welcomed. It was also confined to spheres traditionally viewed as ones in which women were

expected to perform maternal roles.2 The main sectors in which women participated – child care,

maternal health provision, and social work – played off what were seen as natural extensions of

women’s characters and were also placed in the context of Christian good works. They did not

detract from their duties as wives and mothers.

Health care was largely the domain of trained doctors and nurses and the rich wives of

society magnates. Women had served prominently on the board of the city’s noted Mountain

Sanatorium, which cared for as many as 500 of the province’s worst tubercular cases.3 These

women took great joy in reporting on their roles there as board members, cheer-bringers, crafts

teachers, and classroom instructors, roles they often filled for free. They were similarly present on

the boards and in the hallways of the private hospital’s organizations, a position that was

eventually legitimized by their addition to the city’s own hospital board.4 Whether it was through

their work in the Red Cross, the Victorian Order of Nurses (VON), or the city’s Local Mental

Hygiene Clinic, women were praised for their “expression of a desire… to see further

improvement of health condition.” They had “only gone astray when they allowed their hearts

rather than their minds to dictate health programs,” intoned the Spectator.5 Women’s natural

1 Nielson-Varty, “A ‘Laudable Undertaking’,” 1-3.

2 Ibid., 228-229.

3 Hamilton Spectator, “Great Burden Lifted by Community Effort,” 23 January 1929. About 50 of these

patients were outpatients. 4 Hamilton Herald, “Mayor Approves of Women on Boards,” 19 December 1930; Nora-Frances

Henderson, “The Mayor is With Us!,” Hamilton Herald, 20 December 1930. 5 Hamilton Spectator, “VON Does Nobel Work for Mothers,” 16 January 1929.

129

nurturing skills meant, on this reading, that they had an equally natural role in public health care.

While these women were not recognized as the equals of doctors or other professionals in any

sense, their skills in providing sympathetic care were noted as at least complementary to these

professionals’ work. “By mutual confidence and mutual aid, great deeds are done and great

discoveries are made,” proclaimed one celebration of women in health care. 6

Similarly, women participated in the provision of social welfare, serving as its primary

proponents and more active workers. Social workers usually responded to “Domestic

Difficulties,” and their primary work was in redeeming children and educating mothers.7 This

work was primarily carried out through such organizations as the Children’s Aid Society of

Hamilton and the Family Welfare Bureau, which allowed women to serve those less fortunate

than themselves. While this work was primarily carried out by lower-middle class women

working for actual wages, upper-middle-class women were equally encouraged to participate. At

a fundraising dinner Claire Tousley of the Family Welfare Association of America advised the

assembled funders: “‘Don’t be a chandelier shining brightly on the ceiling, but having no relation

to the floor.’”8 On this reading of the proper role of middle-class women, they should be in the

midst of the nitty-gritty details of daily life, teaching working-class women about the precepts of

proper mothering, providing homes or orphanages to the children of women who fell short of

such ideals, and providing common sense and compassion within institutions designed to shore

up families and individuals in tough times.9

6 Margaret Rhynas, Pamphlet, “Summary of Address Given on Public Relations in the Ontario Hospital

Auxiliaries Association,” mid-1930s, box 4, Women’s Hospital Auxiliary Association fonds, AofO. 7 Hamilton Spectator, “Many Home Improved By Family Welfare Bureau,” 20 October 1930.

8 Hamilton Spectator, “Individuality in Social Work is Advocated,” 31 May 1934. For background on the

growth of social work: Julie Berebitsky, Like Our Very Own: Adoption and the Changing Culture of

Motherhood, 1851-1950 (Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 2000); Patricia Rooke, and R.L.

Schnell, No Bleeding Heart: Charlotte Whitton, a Feminist on the Right (Vancouver: University of British

Columbia Press, 1987); James Struthers, “A Profession in Crisis: Charlotte Whitton and the Canadian

Social Work in the 1930s,” Canadian Historical Review 62, no. 2 (June 1981): 169-185; Daniel Walkowitz,

“The Making of a Feminine Professional Identity: Social Workers in the 1920s,” American Historical

Review 95, no. 4 (Oct. 1990): 1051-1075. 9 Hamilton Spectator, “Many Homes Improved by Family Welfare Bureau,” 20 October 1930.

130

Among the most popular organizations in which women served, and one that afforded

great prestige and access to society’s inner circles, was the Imperial Order Daughters of the

Empire (IODE). The IODE appealed to the notions of British respectability constantly echoed by

the city’s political and cultural bodies.10

Service in this organization allowed middle-class

women to mix with some of the oldest and most noteworthy families in the city while also

establishing their own good repute, as can be seen in the obituary for Mrs. S.O. Greening, whose

husband ran the Greening Wire Company,

Her long association with the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire is

particularly well known and equally noteworthy has been her valuable work for

the Hamilton Health Association, by which the Mountain has so greatly

profited. There are only two out of the long list of unselfish activities which

testify to the kind heart and loyal devotion of this worthy Christian Lady, whose

contribution to the cultural life of her native city has been equally important.

Her useful life has come to an end, but she will live on in the thankful

remembrance of its citizens and remain an inspiring example of noble service.11

Not every woman in Hamilton could aspire to the wealth of Mrs. Greening. Her husband had

predeceased her and she left her estate, including the family mansion, to the IODE. Similarly,

Mrs. Stanley Mills’s husband paid for a statue to commemorate the UELs in Hamilton.12

The

Order’s aims of “education and unification [of the Empire]” provided the city’s women with

many ceremonial and practical opportunities to demonstrate their loyalty to the Empire, service to

the city, and Christian propriety.13

Whether it was through Empire Day classes in the local

schools, organizing integrative opportunities for newcomers, opening and cleaning war

memorials, planning welcoming services for new Canadians, or providing gifts of history books,

flags, and pictures of monarchs to school children, the IODE was almost constantly in the public

10 Katie Pickles, Female Imperialism and National Identity: Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire

(Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002). 11

Hamilton Spectator, “A Gracious Lady,” 20 September 1937; Hamilton Spectator, “Generous Gift is

Made to the IODE of Hamilton,” 20 September 1937. 12

Hamilton Spectator, “Great Spirit Lives Again in Hamilton,” 25 May 1929. 13

Hamilton Spectator, “Pays Tribute to the Patriotism of Order,” 11 April 1929.

131

eye, and consistently praised as a proper, charitable organization.14

Women’s conspicuous

activity in organizations such as the IODE demonstrated that Hamiltonians were becoming more

comfortable with women’s involvement in the public sphere. However, these activities were

consistently confined to a limited sphere. Much like their male counterparts, women were

expected to live a life of service to the city. Women were still not seen as political beings nor as

free-standing liberal individuals but instead as wives, mothers, and nurturers.

The ‘private’ sphere traditionally assigned to women – the home – was increasingly the

subject of ‘public’ discourse. Home, home making, and budgeting were front page items in a way

that they had not been in times of plenty. The National Council of Women formed budgeting and

unemployment committees, experiments followed at the local level.15

In Hamilton this was

supplemented by women’s consumer lobbies such as the Women’s Fair Price Committee, the

Housewives’ Association, and the Women’s Branch of the Ontario Agricultural Association, all

of which shared common goals: “To reduce the high cost of living in all commodities such as

milk, bread, butter, fuel, rent, clothing, etc.”16

Composed of self-identified middle-class wives

and mothers, who were not themselves employed, these groups represented the increased

recognition of the power women possessed as household consumers in the twentieth-century

home. As the Spectator explained, in a bid to recruit advertisers, the woman consumer was a

powerful figure in the economy: “This woman is ready to buy. Advertisers have served her by

taking news of their value to her, instead of forcing her to play hide-and-seek among the stores.

Her list is made up and now she will go to the store which has won her approval with this offering

14 Hamilton Spectator, “Pays Tribute to the Patriotism of Order,” 11 April 1929; Hamilton Spectator,

“Varied Activities Reach all Phases of Welfare,” 15 July 1936; Hamilton Spectator, “IODE President to

Remain in Office,” 22 April 1938. 15

National Council of Women of Canada Address of the National President, May 1933, volume 60, file 2,

National Council of Women fonds, LAC; Resolution on Relief Distribution and Families, 16 January 1933,

volume 60, file 1, National Council of Women fonds, LAC. 16

Janet Inman, letter to the editor “Women’s Fair Price Committee,” Hamilton Spectator, 1 December

1937. Similar contemporary contributors included Isbael Malloy, letter to the editor, “Housewives’

Association,” Hamilton Spectator, 5 May 1938; Hamilton Spectator, “Farm Women’s Steps,” 26 August

1935.

132

and probably she will buy many other items than those she had listed.”17

These campaigns and

organizations recognized that while a man’s domain might be making the money, a woman’s was

in spending it. This extended the sphere for women’s activism and volunteerism into the market.

While local Women’s Institutes had long advocated economy and proper household management,

this positioning of women within the market economy potentially extended their agency beyond

management and into activism.18

Women’s consumer power was not something of interest only to their families. In the

hard times of the Depression it was reframed by local boosters and businessmen as a crucial

component of the local economy itself. “Confidence and normal buying will bring back

prosperity,” a little man posed on the shoulder of the housewife whispered in her ear.19

He was

part of a long-running buy-local campaign supported by approximately 40 mostly downtown

businesses. This was reinforced nationally through federal trade and purchasing policy as well as

in H.H. Stevens’s letters to the public on spending during the Depression. Acknowledging the

hardships faced by Canadians, Stevens suggested that “[w]ith unemployment so prevalent in all

parts of the country, with so many fellow Canadians dependent upon charity even for the bare

necessities of life… the moral obligation rests heavily on all of us to govern our Christmas gift

buying by the ‘Produced-in-Canada’ policy.”20

Stevens repeated these lessons in numerous

subsequent effusions. His opinion was echoed by the Spectator’s editorial board. It was noted that

17 Hamilton Spectator, “She shops at home before she buys,” 14 December 1930. For discussion of the

female consumer see Carolyn M. Goldstein, Creating Consumers: Home Economists in Twentieth-Century

America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012), 1-20; Russell Johnston, Selling

Themselves: The Emergence of Canadian Advertising (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001), 270-

274; David Monod, Store Wars: Shopkeepers and the Culture of Mass Marketing, 1890-1939 (Toronto:

University of Toronto Press, 1996), 196-200. 18

“Handbook for the Use of Women’s Institutes of Ontario,” 1927, box 1, file 2, Hamilton Women’s

Institute papers, HPL; “Women’s Institute: Golden Anniversary Edition,” 1947, box 1, file 2, Women’s

Institute papers, HPL. 19

Hamilton Herald, “ACT! A message for the ear of the housewife,” 19 November 1930; Hamilton

Spectator, “ACT! A message for the ear of the housewife,” 20 November 1930. A similar half-page ad ran

on 3 December as well, which read “We’ll work for prosperity!” and featured a burly looking workman

with a wrench in his hands and his sleeves rolled up. Hamilton Herald, “We’ll work for prosperity!,” 3

December 1930. 20

Hamilton Spectator, “Choose Gifts that Give Canadians Jobs!,” 1 December 1930.

133

with the “[c]hoice, variety, and quality… to be found in the gifts produced in Canadian factories –

all that is necessary is to make sure that… we give them the preference.”21

This call for increased

spending was framed not as support for capital, but rather for industry, workers, and employers.

Even the lowliest of housewives could help Hamilton fight the Depression.

Home to the first women’s branch of the Canadian Club (and the first men’s branch as

well), and its own exclusive women’s group, the Thirteen Club, Hamilton offered middle-class

women a panoply of clubs and organizations. As did their men folk, women often mixed and

mingled in gender-specific social spheres. The wives of business owners like John Hendrie,

professionals like Sydney Mewburn and Dr. W.H. McNairn, and politicians like Charles

McCullough and Colin Gibson, mixed together in social circles reminiscent of those of their

husbands.22

Groups like the Thirteen Club, a literary discussion group consisting only of thirteen

members, all of whose husbands filled important roles within the city, church or university, and

whose replacements were voted in by the current members, spoke to the tightly constricted nature

of social mobility in Hamilton.23

While one could move up to a certain extent, to become truly

accepted one had to fit into the proper social circles as well. They had strict rules and certain

expectations for members. For example, most people still solidified their friendships through

church and professional affiliations, meaning that most of Hamilton’s political and cultural

classes were socially connected and Christian. Many middle-class women belonged to a variety

of groups and they brought the same virtues of respectability and order to all of them. In

extending themselves beyond the private sphere of the home, they came to be seen as emblems of

propriety and progress – figures who combined the public and the private in new, often very

persuasive ways. Class was constructed financially but experienced socially. This hierarchical

21 Hamilton Spectator, “Canadian Gifts,” 1 December 1930.

22 Nina L. Edward, Story of the First Canadian Club Told on the occasion of Its Diamond Jubilee, 1893-

1953 (Hamilton: 1953), Women’s Canadian Club collection, HPL; Membership lists, 1928-1953, Thirteen

Club Collection, HPL. 23

Membership lists, 1928-1953, Thirteen Club Collection, HPL.

134

group only admitted those who truly fit its ideals, whether this was through monetary means, a

good Hamiltonian heritage, or through demonstrably leading a good Christian life as a wife,

mother and citizen. It helped to have a good Ontario lineage – as in the case of Eugenia Mary

Spark MacPherson, who could trace her ancestry back to Laura Secord.

Marriage and courtship remained an important part of the social lives of Hamiltonian

women, especially the middle-class women who increasingly had more choice and autonomy in

choosing their husbands.24

It was understood that there were virtues to married life for both

partners beyond social acceptance. As the Spectator’s women’s editor advised its readers, “A

married person’s life is better ordered, with more regularity in the hours of sleeping, proper

meals, recreation, etc... [with] the mutual solicitude shared by husbands and wives with each

other’s health.”25

While the Depression had admittedly caused many to delay marriage,

matrimony was still held up as a good option for those who could afford it.26

As the number of

husband and wife teams that jointly made up the city’s powerful middle-class ring of charities,

professionals, and politicians could testify, their strengths originated in companionate marriages

and happy homes. The happily married J.M. Pigott testified throughout his diary that his business

and life were only made richer by his fully-reciprocated devotion to his wife Yvonne.27

While not

all the city’s men spoke as literally as Pigott about their wives’ contributions, it was a middle-

class truth that a good wife was among a successful man’s most valuable assets. “Home

wreckers” might transgress these norms; respectable women publicly abided by them.28

Given the

importance of women and the home to shaping families, maintaining a happy one was one of the

best things a woman could do, even as her public role expanded.

24 For more on the changing social contract of marriage and romance in Canada, see Dan Azoulay, Hearts

and Minds: Canadian Romance at the Dawn of the Modern Era, 1900-1930 (Calgary: University of Calgary

Press, 2011); Karen Dubinsky, Improper Advances: Rape and Heterosexual Conflict in Ontario, 1880-1929

(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993) Chapter Five; Peter Ward, Courtship, Love, and Marriage in

Nineteenth-Century English Canada (Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1990). 25

Hamilton Spectator, “Married Bliss,” 8 June 1936. 26

Hamilton Spectator, “Fewer Weddings,” 21 June 1932. 27

J.M. Pigott, condensed diaries, page 282-284, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds, WRDARC. 28

Hamilton Spectator, “Home Wreckers,” 15 September 1938.

135

“It is impossible,” reflected the editor of the Spectator, “to overestimate the influence of

the home on character.”29

And for once, the Herald could agree: “No child can ever receive the

sympathy from a state institution that can alone be furnished by its parents... The heart of a child

is a delicate flower, and it must have the opportunity to open its petals normally, or its fruitage

may never be reached.”30

While Hamilton’s voluntary organizations worked to provide home-like

environments for children to prevent them becoming “sly and furtive, with inferiority complexes

which would make abnormal psychologists leap for sheer joy,” all involved agreed that bringing

up children was first of all a mother’s job.31

In Hamilton, as in much of Anglo-Canada in the

1930s, being a mother was still supposed to be a woman’s primary role, not just because of her

“nature” but because women were expected to inculcate in their children things only a mother

could teach. Echoing the long-held ideas of the Cult of True Womanhood and evoking the image

of the Holy Mother Mary, one Hilda Philip advised Spectator readers that mothers alone were

responsible for both causing and curing Hamilton’s problems with juvenile delinquency: “the

onus [for raising proper children] rests almost entirely upon the mothers.” 32

This attitude was reflected in practice, suggested the many letter writers who wrote in to

the Spectator’s women’s column, “A Woman’s Philosophy.” This column advised women “who

unquestionably work 12 and 15 hours a day struggling… to keep up standards against heavy

odds,” that raising children provided its own rewards, like those showered upon the farm mother

of five whose children went on to university and “didn’t have to wait for a heavenly crown, but

[is] reaping an earthly reward for [a mother’s] spirit and courage.”33

Conversely, a negligent

mother could see in her offspring the results of her own shortcomings, as in the case of an ill,

29 Hamilton Spectator, “Better Homes,” 5 November 1936.

30 Hamilton Herald, “Is Family Life to Go?,” 7 January 1931.

31 Hamilton Spectator, “Frank, Happy Faces Adorning Home for Girls,” 8 October 1936.

32 Hilda Philip, letter to the editor, “Mother’s Responsibility,” Hamilton Spectator, 9 March 1935.

33 Ruth Cameron, “Page ‘One Who Knows!’,” “A Woman’s Philosophy,” Hamilton Spectator, 3 January

1929. This theme was carried over to the next day’s article as well, which told the story of another mother

of five blessed with her own mother’s tender care. Thanks to her hard work, she was now a grandmother

through her hard work in raising good daughters. Ruth Cameron, “No Such Thing as Class,” “A Woman’s

Philosophy,” Hamilton Spectator, 4 January 1929.

136

impoverished mother of six who was arrested and sentenced to three days in jail for contributing

to the delinquency of her children after they stole coke to heat the family’s furnace.34

While the

family’s impoverished state was lamentable, the Spectator and the attorney general agreed, the

mother should have accepted relief rather than lead her children down a path of theft and

dependency: “it was necessary to impress upon the parent that even more serious than stealing is

to encourage a child to be dishonest.”35

The ideal woman was a wife, mother, church supporter, and active volunteer.36

When

Conservative MLA John Marsh hailed his wife’s homemaking as an essential ingredient of his

political success, he was but paying homage to this generally-sustained conception of the proper

woman.37

This was the case even for the city’s suffering Depression-era mothers. There was a

pervading fear among city officials that the prolonged periods of unemployment would increase

delinquency. Children, lacking the guidance of the male, property-holding individual were

thought to have no one on which to model the responsible employment behaviours so valued by

Hamilton’s political and cultural elites.38

Efforts aimed at supporting youth were often led by the

youth themselves. Junior League volunteers led sewing circles for young women, headed a

children’s shelter, mentored the children of families on relief, led classes for them at the YMCA

and YWCA and generally provided programs meant to supplement school activities, all in order

to keep children on relief active, engaged, and out of trouble.39

Additionally, the city’s

playgrounds program extended programming to teenagers and young adults and worked

34 Hamilton Spectator, “Difficult Case,” 14 January 1929.

35 Ibid.

36 For texts on the evolving roles of mothers and wives in Canada during the depression please see:

Baillargeon, Making Do; Lara Campbell, Respectable Citizens: Gender, Family, and Unemployment in

Ontario’s Great Depression (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009); Little, No Car, No Radio, No

Liquor Permit. 36

Christie, Engendering the State, 3-7. 37

Hamilton Spectator, “Happy Family is Background of New Member,” 23 March 1937. Mrs. Marsh told

reporters she had no time for organization work and, while interested in politics, was too busy raising five

children to become too involved herself. 38

Smye, Hamilton Playground Commission Annual Report, 1933, 1-3, Hamilton Playgrounds Commission

papers, HRCH, HPL. 39

Hamilton Spectator, “Preserve Vital Link in Welfare of City’s Life,” 15 April 1935.

137

desperately to keep parks open to the youth. Here was another effort to support unemployed

mothers in the “fuller provision for the intelligent and wholesome employment of the increasing

amount of spare time,” shepherding their children away from the vaguely described “streets.”40

Though programs were officially launched mid-depression to provide “guidance for the young,”

families often struggled, especially to keep a roof over their heads.41

Through the hardest days of the Depression, mothers whose difficulties were

authenticated by the state – as deserted wives and widowed women – could access Mother’s

Allowance. However, the program remained inaccessible for many. As Margaret Little suggests

in her work on Ontario’s mothers during this period, rather than being nurtured, applicants were

bureaucratized by a system primarily run and overseen by men.42

The office was “swamped” with

applications, especially after the two-child limit was lifted to allow for greater eligibility.43

Further, Mother’s Allowance was not always sufficient to cover the costs of raising a family. As

Mrs. L. McCoy, a Hamilton single mother of three, wrote to Mitchell Hepburn in 1934, “we, a

family of 4, are actually starving… we have been living as cheap as was to be got.”44

Mrs. S.

Nicholson, who had two children but lost her Mother’s Allowance after her eldest turned sixteen,

told the premier, “I do not know how to pay my rent or buy food and clothes. My time is up in the

house I am in next week and where to get the money to pay for another house I do not know.”45

On 20 July 1938, a family, including a small child and pregnant mother, came in front of

the Board of Control. They had been camping in Dundurn Park after their eviction from their

40 Smye, Hamilton Playground Commission Annual Report, 1933, 1-3, Hamilton Playgrounds Commission

papers, HRCH, HPL; 41

Hamilton Spectator, “Relief Methods,” 29 April 1935. 42

Little, No Car, No Radio, No Liquor Permit, 51-4. 43

Letter from Mitchell Hepburn’s Secretary to Mrs. S. Nicholson of Hamilton, 5 September 1935, RG 3-9-

0-185, Mitchell Hepburn Correspondence files, AofO. 44

Letter to Mitchell Hepburn from Mrs. L. McCoy of Hamilton, 20 July 1934, RG 3-9-0-105.1, Mitchell

Hepburn Correspondence files, AofO. No return letter survives, though in most cases Mitchell redirected

such letter writers to local relief agencies or the Mother’s Allowance office. 45

Letter to Mitchell Hepburn from Mrs. S. Nicholson of Hamilton, 3 September 1935, RG 3-9-0-185,

Mitchell Hepburn Correspondence files, AofO.

138

house, having left their furniture on the lawn of their house in the rain.46

Controller Treleaven told

his fellow board members, who all heartily agreed, “‘There is something wrong with conditions

when a man and his family, too, have to see their possessions out on the street.’”47

Housing and

eviction had troubled Hamiltonians since the beginning of the Depression. Homeless single men

were one thing. Homeless families another. The latter posed a far greater threat to the security and

stability of the social order. The home was seen to serve a vital role in allowing children to

develop properly and safely without the ill influences associated with institutional care.48

Similar

concerns were voiced when the city was faced with dozens of derelict houses, “which even

endanger health of neighbours as well as tenants.”49

“Hamilton always [had] taken a pardonable

pride in its homes and residential thoroughfares,” in part because the safe streetscapes and

friendly neighbourhoods created spaces believed to prevent juvenile delinquency and stimulate

economic growth.50

The Depression placed this reputation at risk.

“If public opinion were roused to help the needs of mothers and their unborn babies [they]

might all live… and become part of its future:”51

Henderson and The Local Council of

Women Present an Attempt to Raise Awareness

Motherhood was, throughout the Depression, publicly praised in Hamilton’s press and

public health literature. Many local women began to push for increased efforts to decrease infant

and maternal mortality.52

While the issue had been drawing more and more attention throughout

the wealthier 1920s in Canada, in spring 1930 it literally took centre stage when the city’s Local

46 Hamilton Spectator, “Camp in Dundurn Park; Family Without Shelter,” 21 July 1938.

47 Ibid.

48 Hamilton Spectator, “Plight of the Evicted,” 11 May 1938.

49 Hamilton Spectator, “No Homes Available for Evicted Relief Recipients,” 8 April 1933.

50 Hamilton Spectator, “Houses Condemned,” 20 April 1934.

51 Nora-Frances Henderson, A Pageant of Motherhood: An Allegorical Drama in Five Scenes (Hamilton,

Ontario: Local Council of Women, April 1931), Dr. Sarah McVean Collection, HPL. 52

These concentrated efforts saw significant improvements in infant, maternal, and neo-natal health, even

as the city saw funding restricted by the Depression. Health Survey Report as presented by Dr. Grant

Fleming to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1933 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1934), 13 September 1933.

139

Council of Women staged a play entitled “A Pageant of Motherhood.”53

This play, written by

Nora-Frances Henderson (1897-1949) – herself unmarried and with no children – touched on the

challenges and rewards of mothering in mid-century Anglo-Canada.

Figure 5: Nora-Frances Henderson photographed at home for a Spectator article, Hamilton, 5 October

1946. Source: PreView image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Hamilton Spectator Collection,

Hamilton Public Library.

Henderson judged a play about maternal mortality would have a greater “effect on the

mind of our citizens if these were put forward in an artistic rather than a purely scientific way.”54

53 Hamilton Spectator, “Local Council Head Was Heard,” 16 April 1930.

54 Henderson, A Pageant of Motherhood, Dr. Sarah McVean Collection, HPL. By this time acting,

especially in all-female, non-profit productions for charitable or educational purposes, and not

professionally, were considered acceptable for women. Amateur productions provided a common way for

women’s organizations to raise funds, though specifically writing plays for the purpose was uncommon.

Women acted in the annual productions of the Dickens Fellowships Dickens’ adaptations, plays put on by

the local Gaelic society, and participated in educational re-enactments for the UEL Association. General

letter to the Hamilton membership from the organization’s president regarding the 100th anniversary of

Dickens Fellowship, 1 April 1936, Box 1, file 1, Dickens’ Fellowship of Hamilton fonds, WRDARC;

Minute Books, April 1929, box 1, file 7, Gaelic Society Collection, HPL; Minute Books, 19 January 1943,

UEL Collection, HPL.

140

Therefore the Local Council called upon its artistically-gifted members to come forward.

Consisting of five scenes and including allegorical characters such as Time, Progress, Destiny,

Science, Humanity, Ignorance, Selfishness, “Acceptivity,” and, naturally, Canada, “A Pageant of

Motherhood” was written to “[embody] the tragic facts [about maternal mortality rates] and

extend a challenge to the public to face the problem.”55

It did so by discussing historical case

studies of women who had been great mothers or maternal figures, especially ones who were

either saints or powerful figures in maternal feminist groups (though it also included, of course,

figures from the Canadian canon such as Loyalist hero Laura Secord and author Susanna

Moodie). Henderson dwelled on the more disturbing stories – tales of children orphaned because

their ill mother perished in childbirth, and others dying young from preventable diseases.56

Conversations among the allegorical characters demonstrated the moral value of funding health

care for mothers and children, even if that meant spending tax dollars. The play heavy-handedly

conveyed the message that mothers were to be valued separately and specially for their

contributions to the health of the country, leaving the audience with a message of hope from “The

Mother of the Future:” “I am freed from the old evils because I am enlightened; I am enlightened

because I have opened my mind to receive commonsense and truth; I have opened my mind

because the world has taken thought for me and has insisted I shall be protected.”57

Such

maternalist reveries were soon matched by practical programs.

The Baby’s Dispensary Guild had operated as a voluntary body run by a “Ladies’

Board,” and provided infant care services to Hamiltonians, including anyone who made less than

$25 a week. Since 1909, it had covered check-ups by nurses, provided supplies, gave basic

55 Henderson, A Pageant of Motherhood, Dr. Sarah McVean Collection, HPL.

56 According to Henderson’s notes these scenes should use real children to maximize the effect of the

stories. Ibid. 57

Ibid.

141

parenting classes, and organized doctors’ visits from pre-natal ages through toddlerhood.58

However, with the Depression putting increased pressure on the organization, the Board of

Control and City Council launched an investigation to reduce duplication of services and also

relieve some of the burdens experienced by voluntary organizations.59

This initiative

demonstrated the progressive push for providing public health services, but also a desire for fiscal

prudence, since many of its suggestions focused on merging public and private initiatives together

to save on operational costs. Ultimately, it was decided the dispensary would remain independent

but receive greater public funding – to the tune of $16,000, a significant increase over the $7,000

it had received in 1931 – to reach new areas of greater need.60

This increased funding, and other advances in public health, contributed to keeping

Hamilton’s maternal death rates down. They dropped two percent over five years, with neo-natal

mortality dropping a stunning thirteen percent in the same period.61

In 1932 the city reached a

record low, with only nine women dying in or as a result of childbirth from the delivery of the

2,893 babies born in a city whose total population of women was then over 78,000.62

Of those

1932 babies, 83 died within the first month of life and, including that number, 167 died within

their first year. These statistics amounted to 50 lives saved through public health advancements in

58 Report on The Baby Dispensary Guild of Hamilton Inc., by J. Edgar Davey, School Medical Officer to

City of Hamilton, City Council, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933),

4 November 1932. 59

Ibid. 60

Health Survey Report as presented by Dr. Grant Fleming to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933,

Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 13 September 1933. The Survey’s

authors recognized “in making their recommendations… that we are passing through difficult times and

that the realization of some desirable objective may have to be deferred until financial conditions will have

become more normal. It is, however, the opinion of the Survey that it is neither safe nor wise to curtail

public health expenditures if the result of so doing would be a let down in the control of disease or a

lowering of health standards. The health conditions which have been maintained throughout the depression

speak well for the value of public health services.” 61

Ibid. 62

Ibid.; W. Burton Hurd for the Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Racial Origins

and Nativity of the Canadian People, Monograph No. 4 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1937),

204-5.

142

the first month of life alone for 1932.63

The city’s Maternal Hygiene Department scored 100% in

the Hamilton-wide health survey completed in 1933, the only department to do so. This

department provided out-patient obstetrical care at several branch clinics across the city, both pre-

and post-natal.64

Direct care was provided by the Department of Health, the Babies’ Dispensary

Guild, the VON, and the Saint Elizabeth Visiting Nurses.

Also, under the organization of Dr. J. Edgar Davey, the School Medical Officer and later

noted for his extensive contributions to the city’s health services, city council was encouraged to

launch the extensive School Medical Service, meant to begin where the Baby’s Dispensary left

off.65

This early intervention program placed medical professionals in schools to ensure that

pupils found to have “physical and mental defects or disorders” would receive corrective

treatment.66

It also promised to train students in healthy living and hygiene. These advancements

in maternal health and the extensive advocacy work that fed their success demonstrated the value

that the city placed both fiscally and morally on protecting its mothers and their future offspring.

It also allowed women an accessible way to participate in the public sphere. Most of this work,

from the Local Council to the Babies’ Dispensary, continued to be overseen by women in this

period, allowing them to play their perceived natural role in civic life. Healthy, happy children,

63 Health Survey Report as presented by Dr. Grant Fleming to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933,

Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 13 September 1933. This decline was

mirrored across much of Canada during this period. While there had been some decreases each year,

between 1931 and 1932, infant mortality dropped from 86 to 75 per 1,000 live births. R.D. Fraser, “Section

B: Vital Statistics and Health,” in Historical Statistics of Canada (Ottawa: Queen’s Printer, 1983), table

B51-58. 64

Health Survey Report as presented by Dr. Grant Fleming to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933,

Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 13 September 1933. 65

Trained at the University of Toronto, Dr. Davey immediately set up practice in Hamilton after graduating

and with the exception of his time in military service in the First World War, for which he was awarded a

Distinguished Service Order, he continued to practice there until retiring at the age of 86. During this time,

he worked his way up from being a family doctor to chief medical officer for the city and was widely

credited with such public health advancements as a reduction in the spread of tuberculosis and polio, and

the elimination of diphtheria from the city. A.G. McGhie, “An Appreciation of Dr. J. Edgar Davey,”

Canadian Medical Association Journal 101, no. 8 (18 October 1969): 114. 66

Report on The Baby Dispensary Guild of Hamilton Inc., by J. Edgar Davey, School Medical Officer to

City of Hamilton, City Council, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933),

4 November 1932.

143

well-positioned to become useful citizens of the nation, were foreseen in Henderson’s play, the

literature surrounding health services, and in countless pronouncements in the press. They were

often juxtaposed with unhealthy, unhappy children inclined to juvenile delinquency and bound

for careers in crime.

Hamilton’s women were working hard for their children during this period, both on an

individual and organizational level. The city’s playground program, one of the first and

purportedly best-developed in the country, ensured that children were shielded through a system

of supervised parks from a life afflicted by the dangers of crime and modernity.67

Founded by

Frances Woolverton, and maintained by a largely female group until it was incorporated by the

city and replaced with a nearly all-male board, the program offered the city’s parents a chance to

do their work, whether it was inside or outside the home, without worrying about their children

making bad choices.68

The answer to juvenile delinquency was organization: “it is also well

known that children got into trouble because of lack of proper supervision during their leisure

hours.”69

The program was explicitly intended to be for children of all classes, but especially those

in un- or ill-supervised environments. Its proponents thus saw their duties as being very different

67 J.J. Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds’ Association Annual Report, 1929 (Hamilton: City of Hamilton, 1929),

8-9. Hamilton Playgrounds Association Papers, HRCH, HPL. For context see Shirley Tillotson, The Public

at Play: Gender and the Politics of Recreation in Post-War Ontario (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,

2000). 68

J.J. Smye, Souvenir Number of the Hamilton Playgrounds Association (Hamilton: City of Hamilton,

1931), 1-3, Hamilton Playgrounds Association Papers, HRCH, HPL. The fear of car accidents pervaded the

literature on parks in Hamilton. The Playgrounds Association appealed to the Board of Control,

deliberating on a bylaw affecting its funding, by remarking: “The number of little children killed on the

streets of the City is appalling. Think of the tragedy it records - ! Any effort to safeguard the children is

made imperative and justifiable and ought to be aided to the utmost. If the opponents of the by-law were

fully cognizant of the above and of the values of supervised play; if they realized it is not possible for

children to play in the safety of the City streets; that it is not possible in the congestion of the City to give

the children the breadth of experience, the taste of freedom their natures crave, there is every reason to

believe, were it possible that they would more to make the proposition unanimous.” J.J. Smye, Hamilton

Playgrounds’ Association Annual Report, 1930 (Hamilton: City of Hamilton, 1930), 10, Hamilton

Playgrounds Association Papers, HRCH, HPL. 69

J.J. Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds’ Association Annual Report, 1938 (Hamilton: City of Hamilton, 1939),

8-9. Hamilton Playgrounds Association Papers, HRCH, HPL.

144

from those of middle-class groups like the Boy Scouts, which charged fees often beyond the

reach of Hamilton’s working families.70

Its programming drew as many as 300 children to each

park to get involved in a mix of activities – fun runs, tennis classes, and field days – meant to

keep them fit, healthy, and active. Others – woodworking, quilting, sewing, and knitting – were

designed to improve their skills.71

The program’s remit even extended to training the children in

imperial citizenship, with lessons on Empire offered by the local IODE.72

Additionally, leadership

training courses were offered, especially aimed at playgrounds in lower-class areas. These

courses aimed to train playground attendees, with the hopes that they would one day become

playground supervisors themselves, allowing them to “meet the great opportunity for public

service… and make a contribution to the lives of the children using the grounds commensurate

with the value and the investment already made in them.” 73

City officials and private donors

aimed to create adult citizens by training responsible and busy children free from the environs

that bred juvenile delinquency, listlessness, and crime. The city’s fathers, and their wives,

invested considerable money and time in shaping these young adults. They were convinced as

were many contemporaries, that through judicious care children could enjoy productive and

happy futures. Through indoctrinating them early in the ideals of citizenship in particular and

civic life in general, the city’s wives, councillors, and committee men saw themselves as the

responsible guardians of the city’s future.

70 Minutes of the Board of Commissioners Meeting, July 31st 1934, Hamilton Playgrounds Commission

Papers, HRCH, HPL. 71

Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds’ Association Annual Report, 1929, 14-18. Hamilton Playgrounds

Association Papers, HRCH, HPL. 72

J.J. Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds’ Association Annual Report, 1931 (Hamilton: City of Hamilton, 1932),

1, Hamilton Playgrounds Association Papers, HRCH, HPL. 73

Smye, Hamilton Playgrounds’ Association Annual Report, 1938, 8-9, Hamilton Playgrounds Association

Papers, HRCH, HPL

145

Progress and Reproduction: Canada’s First Birth Control Clinic

Perhaps one of the most surprising bastions of this kind of liberal, middle-class maternal

feminism was the founding committee of the city’s Birth Control Clinic. The clinic was a first for

the country. Its founders included Mary Elizabeth Chamber Hawkins, a woman noted for her

good Christian spirit and knack for organization and public service. They took great care to

ensure that the clinic was above all placed in a good position legally through extensive

correspondence with then Member of Parliament, C.W. Bell (providing or promoting birth

control was nonetheless in open violation of the Criminal Code).74

While that status could not be

obtained in time for the clinic’s opening, the group remained free to practice without the restraints

of law enforcement.75

From its charter meeting held in December 1931 onwards, the organization

was headed by an illustrious board that included, at various times, the wealthy wives of most of

the city’s notables, themselves powerful figures in their own social circles. They included Mrs.

Colin Gibson who also served as the current president of the Samaritan Club; Mrs. William

Hendrie, who was the secretary of the Canadian Club; Mrs. L. Stephens, Past President of the

Local Council of Women; Mrs. R.L. Innes, President of the VON; and Mrs. J. Roberts, Treasurer

of the National Council of Women and wife of Hamilton’s then Medical Health Officer.76

Its

annual meetings were held over afternoon teas open to the public, and the organization remained

74 Letter to Mr. C.W. Bell from Mrs. Hawkins regarding legality of birth control clinic, 3 March 1932,

Planned Parenthood Society of Hamilton (PPSH) papers, HPL; Letter to Mrs. Hawkins from E Bayly

regarding legality of birth control clinic, 3 March 1932, PPSH papers, HPL; Letter to Mr. Bell from the

Ministry of justice regarding legality of birth control clinic, 8 March 1932, PPSH papers, HPL; Letter to

Mrs. Hawkins from C.W. Bell regarding legality of birth control clinic, 23 March 1932, PPSH papers,

HPL. 75

Birth control in general and the clinic in particular have featured in recent historiography. For more

detailed histories of the clinic itself, see Catherine Annau, “Canada’s First Birth Control Clinic: The Birth

Control Society of Hamilton, 1931-1940,” (M.A. Thesis, McGill University, 1992). For broader histories of

contraception and legality in Canada, see Brenda Margaret Appleby, Responsible Parenthood:

Decriminalizing Contraception in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999); Angus McLaren

and Arlene Tigar McLaren, The Bedroom and the State: the Changing Practices and Politics of

Contraception and Abortion in Canada, 1880-1980 (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1986). 76

“For the Public Good: A History of the Birth Control Clinic and the Planned Parenthood Society of

Hamilton, Ontario, Canada,” 1970, PPSH papers, HPL.

146

in a financially sound position over the course of its first decade.77

After its initial meeting

Hawkins put her plan in to action and began work in earnest to open up a Birth Control Clinic in

the city.

The clinic first opened at 42 Walnut Street South, where Conservative politician George

Septimus Rennie had once had his medical practice. A doctor for the clinic was secured in the

person of Dr. Elizabeth Bagshaw, one of Hamilton’s few female doctors and an early pioneer in

women’s medicine.78

The clinics, hosted on Friday afternoons, “endeavoured to promote as

friendly an atmosphere as possible. Tea and cookies were served to help the patients feel

relaxed.”79

The clinic’s operations spoke again to the deference that this women’s organization

showed to the constructs of Hamilton’s conservative social strata. Clients needed to be married

and had to be referred by a qualified doctor. Only then were they instructed in “proper”

contraceptive methods, in keeping with “the true aims of the Birth Control movement and its

beneficial effects upon the race.”80

In keeping with this eugenic theme, the efforts of the clinic focused on a few groups

within the city, namely tubercular women, those with inherited illnesses of the mind or the body,

women on city relief, and lower working-class women, especially those with too many children.81

Among the focus cases provided for the society’s annual report, to demonstrate its invaluable

work, were the following: Mrs. S who was on relief and had had thirteen pregnancies in fourteen

years with eight surviving children and one abortion; another Mrs. S. who was on relief and had

had nine pregnancies in thirteen years, including two sets of twins within a year of each other,

with nine surviving children; the tubercular and equally relief-dependant Mrs. N, who had

77 Hamilton Spectator, “Birth Control Society Reports Progress Made,” 13 September 1943.

78 “For the Public Good,” PPSH papers, HPL

79 Ibid.

80 Mrs. W.C. Hawkins, “An Outline of the Work and Aims of the Birth Control Society of Hamilton,

indicating the Social Economic, Political and Religious Aspects of the Subject,” (Hamilton, Ontario:

Hamilton Birth Control Society, n.d.), 1., mid 1930s, PPSH papers, HPL 81

Ibid, 4. While Catholicism was mentioned for its traditional restrictions on birth control that often

resulted in overly large families, the society asserted that as Hamilton was part of a majority Protestant

community, they were welcome to administer advice to anyone they pleased, including Catholics.

147

endured sixteen pregnancies and six abortions, with only seven remaining living children; and a

Mrs. R. who had undergone ten pregnancies and four abortions in twelve years.82

This class-based

approach became clearer as the clinic expanded to include auxiliary contraceptive jelly supply

stations, all located in the predominantly working-class east end.83

While this facilitated access to

the clinic for women unable to afford taxi or bus rides to the main branch, and certainly eased the

burdens of some of Hamilton’s most impoverished mothers, it also said much about the clinic’s

initial focus. By 1934, the society was able to count almost 1,000 women on its books. Some

came from as far away as Guelph and Toronto, “many of [them] pathetic cases suffering from

definite diseases, as well as women afflicted with blindness, mental deficiency, under-

nourishment and exhaustion.”84

The work of the society was also quite public, with annual reports published in the

Spectator that recounted the “excellent work [that] has been done, so much so that the society

feels greatly encouraged as to the future and its ever-widening activities.”85

This was in part done

deliberately to attract new clients to the clinic, as “many who might profit by or be in sympathy

with the work of the society know little concerning its activities.”86

The Spectator was anchored

securely in middle-class and upper-working-class Hamilton and articulated a conservative view

of society. This thus afforded the birth control movement a degree of respectability. As

Hamilton’s most widely-circulated newspaper, the Spectator also ensured the birth control clinic

was widely-known.

82 Ibid., 4-8.

83 “For the Public Good,” 1970, PPSH papers, HPL. The society also published their informational

pamphlets in Polish and Ukrainian, which allowed the predominantly Anglo-Hamiltonian doctors and

nurses to communicate their message more widely. While Italians were numerous by this point in

Hamilton, the city’s Catholic leadership was among the clinic’s fiercest opponents and records note that

resultantly some sectors of Hamilton’s population could not be approached directly, likely precluding the

publication of pamphlets in other foreign languages. 84

Hamilton Spectator, “Many Patients are Given Care,” 28 September 1934. 85

Hamilton Spectator, “Birth Control,” 30 September 1933. 86

Ibid.

148

The Society itself was ideologically in keeping with the growing trend of studying

eugenics as a cure to the social ills of the city. McMaster’s own chancellor, H.P. Whidden, wrote

the introduction to Constructive Eugenics and Rational Marriage, in 1934.87

A then popular text

on the subject, it was written in simple language and intended to “prevent in the future many of

the tragedies of human mating.”88

While the Birth Control Society’s eugenicist philosophy was

hardly shared by every middle-class woman in the city, it did correspond to many widely-shared

concerns: being a good mother (by devoting yourself to a limited number of children), being a

good wife (by not being too anxious and overworked to take care of the house and the cooking),

and being a good citizen (by maintaining an active involvement in your church and community).

Women’s Involvement in Public Life: Politics and Professionalism

“Why do we permit [women] to still usurp all the positions that should be held by men?

It is not because of their superior intellect… we murmur to ourselves: ‘So this is what Eve had

done for the present generation and this is how she is destroying the prospects of the coming

generation.’” wrote one dissatisfied unemployed man the Spectator.89

He was by no means alone,

as many male Hamiltonians voiced a similar critique of women’s employment in the Depression-

ridden years. Yet Hamilton’s women had been increasingly present in the city’s workforce well

before the Depression.90

In 1921, 9,745 women were working for wages, 8.5% of the city’s

overall population.91

In spite of Depression lay-offs, which affected women more severely than

87 H.P. Whidden, Introduction to Constructive Eugenics an Rational Marriage, by Morris Seigel, M.D.

(Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1934), v-vi. 88

Hamilton Spectator, “Constructive Eugenics,” 14 May 1934. Tommy Douglas’ Master’s thesis on

eugenics is often invoked as a way to slight the otherwise revered socialist. However, it is important to note

that it too was completed at McMaster University in 1933, in the department of sociology. Many of the

families described in his case studies bear more than a passing resemblance to the cases invoked by the

Birth Control Society of families that need of birth control. Rev. T.C. Douglas, “The Problems of the

Subnormal Family,” (M.A. Thesis, McMaster University, 1933). 89

T.C.W., letter to the editor, “Woman’s Place,” Hamilton Spectator, 14 November 1934. 90

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Cross-Classification, 4-5 91

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1921: Occupations, Vol. 4 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau

of Statistics, 1929), Table 40.

149

their male counterparts, that number had risen to 14,439 by 1931, 9.4% of the city’s population.92

Women mainly worked in traditionally feminine industries, such as in the city’s textile industry;

as shopkeepers and sales girls in everything from family stores to Eaton’s; and as domestic

servants. Some women joined more heavily industrialized workplaces in the city, such as the

Westinghouse manufactory.93

Domestic work also continued to provide a living for the single

girl, especially those who had only recently arrived from Britain or Southern Europe.94

However,

women were also serving in increasingly professionalized jobs, such as in nursing and teaching,

which were beginning to require increased training and were recognized as valuable occupations

suitable for women.95

The social status of women workers was not clear cut. Some of these

positions were receiving greater public recognition, yet were prone to be pruned if the fiscal

situation so warranted, and many more were poorly remunerated and temporary. Women were

even beginning to attend McMaster University on scholarship.96

The vast majority of these working women in Hamilton were young and single. The

financial hardships of the Depression had meant delayed marriages and thus extended the length

of time during which single women worked. The perception remained that these women were

only working until they left their parents’ homes and found husbands. In spite of this view of

women as temporary workers, pressure from the Local Council of Women did cause City Hall

and the mayor to pay some attention to their plight.97

The women’s division of the city’s

92 Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Occupations, Vol. 7 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau

of Statistics, 1936), Table 41. By 1951, 29,044 women were working in the city, 13% of its overall

population and evidence of this slow but perceptible rise in women’s employment. Dominion Bureau of

Statistics, Census of Canada, 1951: Labour Force – Earning and Employment of Wage-Earners, Vol. 5.

(Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1953), Table 40. 93

For broader information on women’s increasing financial independence in Hamilton in the late

nineteenth-century see Baskerville, A Silent Revolution?. 94

Hamilton Herald, “Domestic Workers Here are not Discontented,” 10 May 1930. 95

Hamilton Spectator, “Too Many Nurses,” 4 June 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Nurses’ Wages,” 19

October 1933; Hamilton Spectator, “Staff at Library is Overworked,” 1 March 1933; Hamilton Spectator,

“Women are dominating Teaching Profession,” 8 November 1935. 96

Hamilton Spectator, “Women Students at M’Master Lead Full, Active, Life,” 23 November 1939. 97

Hamilton Spectator, “Single Women’s Plight Will Be Closely Heeded,” 5 Se3ptember 1931.

150

employment services worked to place unemployed women in “work of a household nature.”98

While the city recognized that this work could be demeaning and provided little scope for the

enhancement of skills, the division’s very existence suggested that on some level the city

recognized that women were working for more than “pin money.”

The question of married woman – especially “married women whose husbands were

holding good jobs… while the unemployment office registered 160 young women out of work” –

caused even more contention.99

The Spectator noted: “Young women, naturally enough, are

incensed at their inability to secure work because, as they sometimes find, desirable positions in

offices and factories have been given to married women. In instances where a husband has steady

employment, the charge of selfishness may not be unjustified.”100

The issue sparked significant

discussion in both the Hamilton women’s and labour movements, with little clear-cut

resolution.101

Married working women were seen to be selfish and vain, especially if it was

supposed their husbands held equally good jobs. Some even suggested, on the question of

encouraging the free-standing male individual, that “Manufacturers should cooperate to build up

a code that will force a man to be a man and not a fop.” 102

They went so far as to suggest married

women should be reported to the government in order that single girls or unemployed men could

take their jobs. While “in the old days it was considered a moral obligation by the employer that

he should pay his married worker enough to keep a family,” those days had passed. Now – one

correspondent proclaimed – a “great change will have to come over our thinking here before we

can deal with the problem [of married women working].”103

98 Hamilton Spectator, “Unemployed Women,” 6 January 1933.

99 Minutes of the Regular Meeting of the HDLC (AFL), 5 November 1937, Unboxed Minutes Books,

HDLC fonds, WRDARC. 100

Hamilton Spectator, “Married Women Employees,” 30 March 1938. 101

Minutes of the Regular Meeting of the HDLC (AFL), 19 December 1937, Unboxed Minutes Books,

HDLC fonds, WRDARC. 102

Affa Dey, Letter to the editor, “Working Women,” Hamilton Spectator, “18 September 1938. 103

Hamilton Spectator, “Women in Industry,” 23 March 1934.

151

Proponents of married women workers were quick to note that married women often

sought employment “to support a husband who is disabled or absolutely unable to obtain any kind

of work.”104

The Hamilton Spectator turned to Miss Frances Perkins, Secretary of Labour for the

United States under Franklin Roosevelt, who authoritatively observed that, “Each individual case

must be judged on its own merits; to make a sweeping pronouncement one way or the other is not

only unfair, but foolish.”105

Even the city and the mayor refused to condemn outright the

employment of married women.106

In spite of such hesitant encouragement, no social support or employment solutions were

offered with respect for facilitating married women’s paid work. Despite cautious support for the

one-bread-earner female family, overall discussions of Hamilton’s women workers, both married

and single, pointed to the entrenchment of traditional marital values. Jobs were not needed for

women, husbands were. And if jobs were indeed needed, they were for husbands, not their

wives.107

Despite the passage of national and provincial suffrage laws over a decade prior to the

Depression, women politicians were far from welcomed with open arms into formal politics.

Criticized for their ignorance of fiscal policy, and accused of “neglecting [their] home and

children,” women who got involved in politics were accused of “centre[ing] their thoughts on

window shopping, afternoon shows and lodges, when they would better be at home.”108

With

these opinions against them, Hamilton’s female politicians had to work hard to incorporate

104 Hamilton Spectator, “Married Women Employees,” 30 March 1938; Ibid.

105 Hamilton Spectator, “Employed Married Women,” 10 November 1937.

106 A Constant Reader, letter to the editor, “Employed Married Women,” Hamilton Spectator, 25 September

1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Women and Employment,” 5 February 1931. 107

This view was dominant even in much of the contemporary male labour organizations. See Nancy

Christie and Michael Gauvreau, Cultures of Citizenship in Post-war Canada, 1940-1955 (Montreal and

Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2004), 11-12; Ruth Frager, Sweatshop: Class, Ethnicity, and

Gender in the Jewish Labour Movement of Toronto, 1900-1939 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,

1992), 111-118; Janice Newton, The Feminist Challenge to the Canadian Left, 1900-1918 (Montreal and

Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1995), Chapter Five. 108

Mrs. Jean Inglis, letter to the editor, “No Politics, Ladies!,” Hamilton Spectator, 1 June 1934; Mrs. L.S.,

Letter to the editor, “Women in Politics,” Hamilton Spectator, 23 November 1934; R. Gillespie, letter to the

editor, “A Word to the Ladies,” Hamilton Spectator, 19 November 1934.

152

maternal feminist politics into their platforms. They had to work hard to make it clear that they

would not cast aside their homes, but could instead be wife, mother, and politician, all at the same

time.

Nora-Frances Henderson’s successful election demonstrated the importance of an

adherence to ideas of the slow, step-by-step expansion of women’s public culture.109

Henderson’s

campaigns relied strongly on the language of maternal feminism and the unique virtues that she

could bring to the council as a woman and for women. While maternal feminism is a contested

term, in the case of Henderson her ongoing dedication to women’s special role as nurturers,

peace-creators and well-ordered people demonstrate many of the key tenets of maternal feminist

ideology.110

Additionally, her work specifically for women’s, families’ and children’s rights

aligned with maternal feminist advocacy on these topics. 111

She relied on the notion that women

should have a role in public service and charity. She thus put to work an idea, nurtured in civil

society – respecting the internal “private” sphere of women’s organizations – that was now

increasingly significant in discourse about the state. Henderson’s own status as a single woman

109 Sklar, Florence Kelley and the Nation’s Work, xii-xvi. While based in a much earlier time and in

American culture, Sklar’s description of the informal world of women’s political culture has obvious

parallels in Canada, where a similar comprehensive study of women’s organizing is largely missing. The

role of this informal organizing has been studied in depth in Hamilton as well by Nielson-Varty in her

doctoral dissertation on the topic: Nielson-Varty, “A ‘Laudable Undertaking.’” 110

As Molly Ladd-Taylor wrote, maternal feminism is a difficult label to apply because its definition can

encompass groups of women who may not have identified themselves as feminists or even particularly

maternal. The goals of maternalists were often at odds with those of contemporary feminists, so there is

some debate about whether the term can be applied at all. Molly Ladd-Taylor, “Toward Defining

Maternalism in U.S. History,” Journal of Women’s History 5, no. 2 (Fall 1993): 110-113. 111

As acknowledged by Wayne Roberts, it was also through this uniquely womanly language that many

women, like Henderson, gained political acceptance: “This notion of a female ‘mission’ transformed the

old concept of dependent womanhood and expanded it beyond the domestic realm.” As Peter Campbell

notes, during the Depression, the private sphere increasingly overlapped with the public interest and

brought so-called “women’s politics” into mainstream relief debates, thus explaining how Rose Henderson

was so able to integrate her ‘private’ role into a ‘public’ sphere. As Campbell writes, Henderson articulated

her concerns for wider society through specific solutions to women’s problems, and viewed society’s ills as

part of this gendered inequality. It is important to note that Rose Henderson and Nora-Frances Henderson,

despite their parallel lives, were not related to each other, either in their partisan politics or through family.

Peter Campbell, Rose Henderson: A Woman for the People (Toronto: University of Toronto, 2010), 6-8;

Wayne Roberts, “‘Rocking the Cradle for the World’: The New Woman and Maternal Feminism, Toronto

1877-1914,” in A Not Unreasonable Claim: Women and Reform in Canada, 1880s-1920s, Linda Kealey ed.

(Toronto: The Women’s Press, 1979):15.

153

likely aided her ability to have a political career, one that meshed well with liberal notions of

civic service to one’s community. Henderson’s larger work as a candidate, councillor and

controller also gave shape to these values so popular with Hamilton’s political elite.

A Woman in a Man’s World: Newspaperwoman Nora-Frances Henderson Faces Election

Electing a woman, even a decade after they were able to vote in Canadian elections, was

a newsworthy event. In fact, Nora-Frances Henderson’s 1934 election to the 1935 Board of

Control in Hamilton was a first for the entire country, much as her earlier election as alderman

had been a first for the city. Rather than radical breakthroughs, both events reflected the tenacious

hold of conservative liberal ideals in the city. Henderson spoke to these traditional values through

her campaign, newspaper column, and work on council. A close reading of her work as a

journalist, a candidate and a politician revealed that in some ways, Henderson’s election was not

surprising at all. By emphasizing maternal feminist values in her work, she fed into notions that

she was adding another voice to, rather than threatening to undermine, a male-dominated liberal

order.

Henderson’s job at the Herald gave her a platform from which to voice her concern for

Hamilton’s disenfranchised, in this case not male workers but women and children of the city.

Like Lawrence, Henderson had moved with her family to Hamilton from England when she was a

child. In 1917, Henderson began work at the Herald as a reporter to help support her needy

family, a position which eventually led to her career as women’s editor at the paper. Her positions

allowed her to broadcast her opinions about necessary changes in Hamilton, Canada, and the

Empire.112

In her own words,

the women’s page of the most progressive type of daily newspaper now serves a

diversity of needs and interests, and this evolution from the old time society

column marks the changed attitude toward woman’s part and place in the

community as an intelligent responsible being… The serious and engrossing

112 Leone Kennedy, “Never Kick a Lady,” Maclean’s, 1 February 1947.

154

affairs as they concern women all over the world are rendered up for the

feminine eye, and on many women’s pages editorial comment which voices the

woman’s viewpoint is often valuable as a means of supplying a community self-

expression which… is very needed.113

Using her column to view these interests with a “feminine eye,” she often discussed social

welfare issues, especially as they affected women and children. For her, such issues were more

important than the “pink teas” social writers most often talked about in their pages.

The women’s page in the Herald was filled with news of the problems faced by women

around the world, whether these pertained to restricted voting rights or limited job opportunities

in feminized spheres. Henderson spoke out on the inequities that women faced, both as mothers

and workers, in Canadian society. One of the main focuses of her writing was maternal health.

She believed that maternal mortality in Canada was far too high for a developed nation and, most

importantly, could easily be reduced with very few changes to the Canadian health care system.114

She believed that extending maternal benefits to those who “were unable to afford medical

attention and supervision during pregnancy” would help fulfill “the city’s ambition… to lose no

mothers from unnecessary causes in childbirth; it considers such accidents as a blight on its

life.”115

Furthermore, she saw a dual advantage in using female doctors for maternal health care

specifically. Not only would this allow women to serve as doctors in a way uniquely suited to

them, it would also “lessen the dangers of childbirth” by allowing women greater access to

doctors with whom they felt more comfortable.116

She was also able to extend this compassion to

the female unemployed. Henderson reminded the public that the female unemployed, silent

victims in the Great Depression, were most certainly not the cause of the financial crisis but

rather among its most acutely suffering victims.

113 Nora-Frances Henderson, “A Peep Behind the Scenes!,” Hamilton Herald, 9 March 1931.

114 Nora-Frances Henderson, “Attraction of Women!,” Hamilton Herald, 12 October 1930; Nora-Frances

Henderson, “Maternal Mortality Problems,” Hamilton Herald, 23 January 1929. 115

Henderson, “Attraction of Women!,” 12 October 1930. 116

Henderson, “Maternal Mortality Problems,” 23 January 1929.

155

“The belief [was] that the encroachment by women on occupational fields formerly

sacred to men had done much to cause the unemployment problem,” Henderson told her

readers.117

However, as any regular reader of Henderson’s column knew, this was not the case.

Single women suffered alongside the male unemployed. Their plight was all the worse because,

as public spending declined, so did many fields reserved for women. Teachers and nurses were

among the hardest hit. Henderson pointed out that politicians such as Montreal Mayor Camillien

Houde were cutting teachers’ salaries to save money.118

While Hamilton’s mayor did not follow

suit, he did begin requiring Bachelor degrees for teaching positions, leaving many female

teachers ineligible.119

Similar problems were faced by nurses, whose jobs were cut from city

budgets and lost private sector positions as families faced tough, cost-cutting decisions.120

While

some suggested that these unemployed women had fathers and husbands who could provide for

them, such was rarely the case. These women had often taken up jobs to help support their

families. The problem of unemployment was, Henderson argued, even more severe among

women as they were less likely to seek official help: “[I]t is only once in a long while that a

woman will ask for something to eat or for some money [though there are] pitiable conditions

existing today in Hamilton as regards women who cannot find enough work to keep body and

soul together.”121

Henderson suggested that society was called upon to reject its traditional

stereotypes about women employees seeking relief. The examples of maternal health and

women’s unemployment demonstrated the ways in which Henderson used her column and the

page in general to discuss these problems, otherwise absent from both the Herald and Spectator.

To her, women were ignored and neglected people that only she as a woman could understand

and address.

117 Nora-Frances Henderson, “Women Not to Blame… See Facts!,” Hamilton Herald, 19 July 1933.

118 Nora-Frances Henderson, “A Poor Comparison,” Hamilton Herald, 24 February 1932.

119 Ibid.

120 Nora-Frances Henderson, “Jobless Women.. Nurses,” Hamilton Herald, 15 March 1932.

121 Nora-Frances Henderson, “The Feminine Focus,” Hamilton Herald, 4 December 1930.

156

She also heavily promoted development in children’s services across the city, especially

through the increasingly popular school of social work. As the Depression intensified and

Hamilton saw more children who “came under the notice and protection of the Children’s Aid

society,” Henderson publicized their plight.122

Some, she said, were near starvation. That many

children remained unprotected was “so appalling… in a Christian community,” a “hideous and

revolting injustice.”123

They needed adequate oversight by professionals to survive this rough

period. In this context she saw Hamilton’s social workers as near-saints, possessed of “ingenuity

and tact and simple human understanding.”124

Henderson was also an active supporter of Charlotte Whitton’s approach to increasing

families’ well-being, especially with regard to advancing relief for “worthy” families. In

reference to Whitton’s role on the Canadian Council on Child and Family Welfare, Henderson

remarked it was “the greatest source of satisfaction to Canadian people that there is at the head of

this national body a woman of the mental and spiritual calibre of Miss Charlotte Whitton…

whose knowledge covers a vast field, whose head is screwed on firmly and who heart has never

ceased to beat responsibly to all human needs.”125

In spite of her role as director of the Canadian

Council on Child and Family Welfare, Whitton had little interest in supporting the ‘idle poor,’

and little understanding of what families in need actually wanted.126

Instead of offering Canadians

comprehensive support, the state, Whitton suggested, should cut relief to the chronically

unemployed, single men, immigrants, women, and indigents – all those who, in Whitton’s books,

did not deserve it. Henderson and Whitton were in substantial agreement on such questions.

Henderson’s support of Whitton over other female social activists of the day spoke powerfully to

122 Nora-Frances Henderson, “Children’s Aid Society,” Hamilton Herald, 6 April 1931.

123 Nora-Frances Henderson, “It is Almost Unbelievable,” Hamilton Herald, 3 January 1933.

124 Henderson, “Children’s Aid Society,” 6 April 1931.

125 Nora-Frances Henderson, “Miss Whitton on the Job,” Hamilton Herald, 7 August 1929.

126 Struthers, “A Profession in Crisis,” 170-3, 176. See also Christie, Engendering the State; Kenneth James

Moffatt, A Poetics of Social Work: Personal Agency and Social Transformation in Canada, 1920-1939

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001); Rooke and Schnell, No Bleeding Heart.

157

how she viewed the role of municipal relief and mother’s allowances. She chose to align herself

with Whitton’s more conservative approach to social welfare in spite of the growing number of

more radical options available at the time. She also voiced her opinion on popular issues of the

day such as temperance and the peace movement, both causes she supported to some extent.127

Always of paramount interest were the ways in which the decisions made by society and

governments affected women. She noted it was through women’s activity in community

organizations that their problems should be solved.

Henderson’s Herald, a bastion of liberal thought and reform-minded politics, was not

alone in its focus on such maternal feminist themes. Even the politically Conservative Spectator

acknowledged that women could, through their organizations, provide valuable service to the

community. While its women’s page was mostly devoted to the royal family, recipes, debutante

balls, weddings, and child-rearing tips, it also paid close attention to these worthy groups’ works.

A full-page feature on 16 January 1929 highlighted the VON’s regional conference held in

Hamilton, most particularly the “noble work [done] for mothers.”128

The Order discussed public

health research priorities, the need for regional health councils to discuss local problems, and the

development of public health initiatives across the country. It pondered how such reforms might

aid the VON’s goal to provide “bedside nursing care for the sick in their own homes on a truly

national scale.”129

This organization especially highlighted the virtuous role such nurturing

women could fill as health care providers, with significant emphasis on their professional

agency.130

Similar articles were printed on the work of the Red Cross, the Liberal Women’s

Association, the Women’s Conservative Club, and the IODE, a favourite in the Spectator’s

127Though she did not support full temperance, she did advocate personal moderation to prevent abuses of

women and children in the home. Nora-Frances Henderson, “Temperance Education,” Hamilton Herald,

24 September 1929; Nora-Frances Henderson, “Too Logical?,” Hamilton Herald, 28 December 1931. 128

Hamilton Spectator, “V.O.N. Does Noble Work For Mothers,” 16 January 1929. 129

Ibid. 130

Ibid.

158

pages.131

Through these organizations women participated in the Hamilton community in

significant ways, which even the Spectator recognized were valuable and necessary.132

Many Hamiltonians feared, Henderson argued, that women were uninformed about

politics. She used her column both to interrogate this sentiment and to further women’s political

knowledge. Henderson told women, especially Liberal women, to get involved in their local

parties and learn more about the issues she saw as affecting them. In Hamilton, both mainstream

parties provided women with opportunities for participation, and Henderson herself seemingly

attached more importance to the cause of having more women in politics than to her own partisan

identity. When the Liberal Party formed a new organization in the city she urged women to

disrupt the traditional male monopoly on political leadership. It was now legal for women to run

for parliament and so she suggested that,

this [was] the psychological time for women who are earnestly and intelligently

committed to the principles of Liberalism and who look to the future to provide

greater equalities in political life to apply for membership… no hope of power

and influence within the political parties can be hoped for by women so long as

there is a division of men’s and women’s organizations.133

This passage embodies the bipartisan interest that Henderson took in women’s political lives.

Certainly she herself favoured Liberal candidates, but more importantly, so she claimed, she had

done the research to find out that they were the best ones for women.

Women needed to use their brains and educate themselves so that they could, free of their

husbands and fathers, form their own political opinions. For Henderson, there was “palpable

evidence that the women have not seriously accepted their responsibilities as enfranchised

131 Hamilton Spectator, “Liberal Women Hold Organization Rally,” 23 May 1929; Hamilton Spectator,

“Red Cross Helpers Fill a Great Need,” 7 June 1930; Hamilton Spectator, “Women Conservatives Hold

Annual Meeting,” 6 December 1929. 132

Nielson-Varty establishes this tradition of female contribution in charitable organizations in mid-

nineteenth-century Hamilton. Hamilton’s upper- and middle-class women organized into a Benevolent

Society, in keeping with trends which were popular at the time, which became, by the end of the 1870s,

Hamilton’s largest female charitable organization. Religion allowed these women to enter into public life

and achieve their charitable ends as barriers between private and public spheres were not as impermeable as

the contemporary rhetoric made them seem. Nielson-Varty, 2-5, 14-18. 133

Nora-Frances Henderson, “Can We Come In?,” Hamilton Herald, 8 January 1932.

159

citizens. Apathy, foolish dislike of the inevitable publicity of decision and purpose still mark the

woman’s attitude toward the great occasions in the communal and national life.”134

She implored

them to serve women in the city and become politically active to represent their concerns, a job

she acknowledged could be difficult and one at which many lesser men often failed:

The only right way to vote is because one has convinced oneself that this is the

right way! This is not easy, because it involves thought and observation and

demands judgment and perspicacity. Evidence for and against has to be sifted;

foolish idle talk has to be analyzed and discounted… none of these things is an

easy accomplishment. They all take mental effort, an exercise many ladies –

and gentlemen – never permit themselves.135

Being informed was a supreme virtue in her eyes. On the eve of the Hamilton-West federal by-

election in 1930s she advised her readers that “A great many women who have been voting

Conservative because it was a family tradition will be asking themselves if as women they are not

going to miss an opportunity to help the women’s cause in public life by not voting for a man like

Mr. Elmore Philpott, the Liberal candidate.”136

While this obviously partisan article initially

pointed out the candidate for whom women should vote, her selection of this candidate had come

about not because the Liberals were naturally better, but because they were doing more active

work for women. Voting Conservative merely demonstrated women’s lack of education with

regard to their position. She implored her readers that it was “high time that women began

looking after their own interests.”137

Even after her own election she promoted this ideal of

informed voting. Before the 1933 council election, she reminded women, her primary readership,

to “Go out to vote on Monday; it is your privilege and your protection… don’t adorn the name of

your favourite candidate with crosses as if they were kisses… one cross after the name of the

candidate of your choice will ensure a vote.”138

134 Nora-Frances Henderson, “What Are Our Women Worth?,” Hamilton Herald, 9 July 1930.

135 Nora-Frances Henderson, “Ladies, Prepare for Elections!,” Hamilton Herald, 7 June 1930.

136 Nora-Frances Henderson, “The Woman’s Vote, This Time,” Hamilton Herald, 21 January 1931.

137 Ibid.

138 Nora-Frances Henderson, “The People’s Voice – Strong or Weak?,” Hamilton Herald, 2 December

1933.

160

Hamilton politics had remained an entirely male institution in the years since suffrage

was passed. Henderson bemoaned this fact each year as the civic elections approached. “It looks

as if this municipal election will come and go and we shall have no women candidates,” she

wrote in 1929. “The women of Hamilton are, as a whole, woefully lacking in a sense of their

opportunities and responsibilities as fully privileged citizens.”139

She could see no reason why so

many eligible women continued to renounce their solemn duty to vote.140

Doing so was especially

imperative in Henderson’s eyes in light of women’s earlier struggles for the franchise.141

Henderson’s was not just a passing interest in women’s electoral work but rather a firmly held

belief that women would add to the city’s governance:

what the world needs today are women leaders, leaders who are willing to go

out and fight… not just antagonistic women who want to fight for the sake of

fighting; not women who are convinced that they could do better than men; but

women who will be brave enough upon occasion to stand up for what they

know to be right no matter what anybody says. The presence of a few intelligent

women on our city council would… do… the same thing as the presence of

women in family life has been doing all along… the menfolk… come home

again to be replenished with Mother’s ideals, and now women are taking those

ideals outside themselves, tagging around after their menfolk so there is no

excuse to forget them!142

While Henderson emphasized women’s unique role as wives and mothers in guiding society, she

saw these traits as qualifications for their participation in politics. In light of these interests, when

she spoke of including women in civic bodies, she made claims for their uniqueness rather than

their desire to replace men in politics. This was especially exemplified by her argument for the

expansion of the Hospital and Parks boards to include women. What could be more natural, she

asked, than including natural nurturers in such spaces?

139 Nora-Frances Henderson, “No Women on Horizon,” Hamilton Herald, 25 November 1929.

140 Nora-Frances Henderson, “Municipal Elections,” Hamilton Herald, 27 November 1929. By 1929, all

people who owned or rented a property assessed at $400 or more, or had an income of $400 and over, were

eligible to vote in elections, as were wives whose households met that requirement. This reportedly

represented a majority of the women in Hamilton, though Henderson does not document this statement. 141

Nora-Frances Henderson, “Council is Silent,” Hamilton Herald, 15 October 1929. 142

Nora-Frances Henderson, “Women Needed in Council,” Hamilton Herald, 27 October 1931.

161

Hamilton’s Hospital Board in 1930 was mainly a bastion of wealthy and respectable men

in the Hamilton community.143

To Henderson’s chagrin, a woman had never served on the board.

In December of 1930 she took it upon herself to join a campaign to increase the size of the board

by one person to allow for the addition of a woman.144

She blamed the old pattern on the

“indifference of women.”145

Correcting it now made sense as “women had composed by far the

greater part of the hospital staff and since the new wing would be occupied entirely by women it

would be eminently fitting that women should assist in the management of the institution.”146

Given the mayor’s overwhelming support, it was no surprise that the board expanded within the

month to include a new appointment specifically for a woman, especially as “if there was any

body on which women have better right to be represented,” it was the Hospital board.147

Henderson did not rest content with this success. She aimed at the more general inclusion

of women in politics and decided to run for council herself. As the Herald noted, “Miss

Henderson has been urging women to take advantage of their opportunities and enter public life

for many years and now she has been challenged to make good her contention that there is an

important role for women to play in the… community.”148

Both in her politics and her self-

identification as a women’s candidate, a maternal feminist at heart, she bolstered rather than

threatened the security of Hamilton’s political order. Through her endorsement of safe

143 James Wishart discusses this case of a female nursing proletariat with entirely male management in his

master’s thesis on the topic of nurse’s training in Kingston. Indeed this seemingly contradictory balance

between rich men making the decisions implemented by working women seemed natural and for the best to

these men in Hamilton and Kingston, where it met with little objection. James Wishart, “Producing Nurses:

Nurse Training in the Age of Rationalisation at Kingston General Hospital 1924-1939,” (M.A. Thesis,

Queen’s University, 1997), 22-23, 27-28, 30-33. 144

Nora-Frances Henderson, “Women and the Hospital Board,” Hamilton Herald, 6 December 1930. This

practice had precedence in Hamilton where the board had only recently already expanded to allow a

councillor to sit on them. 145

Ibid.; Hamilton Herald, “Mayor Approves of Women on Boards,” 19 December 1930; Henderson, “The

Mayor is With Us!,” 20 December 1930. The maternity ward briefly mentioned here was built as part of the

new Mount Hamilton Hospital, renamed in 1953 for Henderson herself posthumously. 146

Henderson, “The Mayor is With Us!,” 20 December 1930. 147

Hamilton Herald, “Women on Hospital Board,” 31 December 1930. 148

Hamilton Herald, “Nora-Frances Henderson is Going to Run,” 12 November 1931.

162

approaches to Depression-era problems, she reinforced the city’s cautious approach to reform

politics.

Within Hamilton, Henderson’s run was warmly received, though obviously by some

more than others. The Herald, her own employer, was obviously the most enthusiastic in their

support of her initial candidacy. In spite of their obvious and self-acknowledged bias, the editors

found “it impossible to be silent” about their support for her candidacy.149

They wrote that as

Women’s Editor of the Herald, Henderson had made her political positions clear to her

prospective supporters. The ideal of civic service she had often championed and “the obligations

[her readers] were under and the privileges they possess as enfranchised citizens,” meant she

herself could not “refuse the challenge.”150

Henderson’s editorial position had put her in a good

position to claim that she had unique insight into the hearts of the city’s women, or at least those

of the Herald’s readers. She claimed she had “acquired an intimate knowledge of the affairs of the

city from the woman’s angle, one which, however willing, men do not have the inclination of the

opportunities to obtain.”151

She had frequently used her column to start funds for feeding

undernourished children and families.

Her later run for controller, in which her civic track record was more evident, was just as

warmly received. Though she had officially resigned her position as editor at the Herald, the

paper praised her for having “[s]trenuously championed the cause of women.”152

She was

described as “a sincere, aggressive, and often successful leader in the cause of social reform. The

desirability of the programmes she has supported has sometimes been questioned, but not the

149 Hamilton Herald, “A Woman Seeks Election,” 31 November 1931. This sort of partisan affiliation was

quite common for newspapers during this time. The Spectator was equally vocal in their support of the

Conservative party candidates and also very clear that the candidates they supported were affiliated with

that party, as was the Herald in their support of the Liberal party in federal and provincial elections. 150

Ibid. 151

Ibid. 152

Hamilton Herald, “New Candidate to Enter Field,” 10 October 1934.

163

worthiness of her motives.”153

She seemingly had general support for her candidacy, with one

male voter praising her “sane judgement” and her “honest effort to give a square deal to everyone

showing absolutely no favouritism.”154

She was presented as a woman’s candidate, almost

exclusively in her first run and still focally in her later campaigns. Her role as a woman’s

representative created the appearance of progressive reform: Hamiltonians were electing a

woman, not an uncontroversial move. Yet the language that was used to support her directly

echoed the less threatening language of maternal feminism. Henderson did not want to take a

man’s job; she just wanted a woman to round things out and make sure the boys were playing

nice. The success of this angle can be seen directly in the discussions that followed her election.

“Miss Henderson’s election opens up a new era in the city… her position at the head of the poll is

a personal triumph,” the Herald told its readers in describing the election results.155

The Spectator

wrote, after her 1934 election to the Board of Control, that she had “scored a double triumph. She

not only became the first woman controller in Hamilton, but heads the board by a comfortable

margin of votes. We offer our sincere congratulation to Miss Henderson… Seldom has such a

flattering vote of confidence been given a newcomer to the board.”156

Henderson thus changed politics in Hamilton while, paradoxically, preserving its core

values. Henderson advocated sweeping reforms to Hamilton’s relief system. She wanted more

pay for the city’s relief workers. She wanted this pay to be exempt from property-related carrying

charges. She wanted more relief workers to be cleaning the streets. She also wanted a more

watchful approach to relief to eliminate fraud.157

Overall, her centrist approach was consistent

with the city’s deep-seated liberalism, in that it presented relief as an earned privilege for hard-

153 Hamilton Herald, “What the Candidates Offer,” 1 December 1934.

154 Hamilton Herald, “Alderman Henderson and Mayor Wilton Receive Endorsation of a Herald reader,” 30

November 1934. 155

Hamilton Herald, “The Civic Election,” 8 December 1931. 156

Hamilton Spectator, “The New Council,” 4 December 1934. 157

Hamilton Spectator, “Relief Motion Sent to Board by the Council,” 14 November 1934; Hamilton

Spectator, “Unemployed are Anxious to Work for Help Given,” 25 March 1935; Hamilton Spectator,

“Flagrant Cases of Relief Fraud Exposed, Says Mayor,” 2 July 1935; Hamilton Spectator, “Relief

Department Starts Inquiry into Wage Rates,” 13 August 1935;

164

working Hamiltonians as well as a form of charity for those truly unable to work. Less eligibility

was the unstated but palpable assumption of her thoughts.158

Henderson safeguarded her image as a staunch independent on council. Many of her

political choices aligned with those of the Conservative members of council. Yet in her own mind

she was a free spirit, able to speak truthfully and honestly on all questions.159

“A woman for

women’s interests,” who was “[t]ied to no slate or party,” she told the voters that she was thus

“free to exercise her good judgment conscientiously as the problems of the people present

themselves.”160

With this in mind, she, a true individual, was able to work toward improving

relief, especially on behalf of those she deemed from “worthy” families and willing to work for

themselves.

Her individualistic approach brought her into conflict with Sam Lawrence, who openly

urged the city to provide social services to all of Hamilton’s unemployed men, no matter their

circumstances.161

While Henderson advocated relief and benefits for families, she did so within

the accepted framework of relief to families in exchange for work. Henderson’s continued belief

in the existence of a deserving poor demonstrated a strong ideological difference between herself

and Lawrence. As a socialist, Lawrence believed the city’s hardships had been caused by

capitalist exploitation of the city’s workers and worsened by the profit-oriented employers’

failure to provide workers with steady jobs. Henderson repeatedly expressed the opinion that

these men themselves were causing such hardships by their failure to seek out, and keep, jobs.

They were authors of their own, and their families’, misfortune. Further, she often framed her

158 This notion of the “deserving” or “worthy” poor was by no means unique to Hamilton or Henderson, or

even to the city’s conservatism. It was a significant legislative and social trend across Canada and has been

studied at length by historians. For a few examples see: Baillargeon, Making Do; Campbell, Respectable

Citizens; Christie, Engendering the State ; Little, No Car, No Radio, No Liquor Permit; Struthers, No Fault

of Their Own; Mariana Valverde, The Age of Light, Soap and Water: Moral Reform in English Canada,

1885-1925 (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1991). 159

Hamilton Spectator, Election advertisement, 1 December 1934. 160

Ibid.; Hamilton Herald, Election Advertisement, 1 December 1931; Hamilton Herald, Election

advertisement, 3 December 1932; Hamilton Herald, Election Advertisement, 1 December 1934. 161

Hamilton Spectator, “Board Throws Open Civic Hostel to Single Unemployed,” 5 September 1935.

165

concerns in a familial, maternal feminist rhetoric that recognized the sadness of the Depression

but did not deeply interrogate its economic and political causes. These ideologically opposed

approaches to the Depression and its suffering ensured that while Henderson and Lawrence

occasionally had overlapping interests, they often butted heads over how money should be spent

and relief distributed. Although the CCF published a speech that Henderson gave to the

Federation of Business and Professional Women’s Clubs of Canada in 1933 on monetary reform

– in it she encouraged things that appealed to the CCF, such as the creation of a nationalized

bank, and the redistribution of industrial profits to improve the purchasing power of the “millions

of people [who could] be brought up to a decent level of living” – Henderson was in no way a

CCFer.162

As she stated in the speech, she wanted to place industry in a more stable position, not

strip it of its well-earned profits. Indeed, as her later candidacy for the Reconstruction Party

would indicate, while supporting hard-working families and fair-play in industry, she did not

favour a radically transformed socio-economic order. Consequently she and Lawrence were

ideologically opposed to each other.

Henderson’s support of relief by no means meant that she supported all the city’s plans

for relief. As a statement on behalf of her candidacy in 1934 argued, “Relief works on which the

government paid two-thirds in labour costs were only ‘bargains’ when they were really

needed.”163

“More vision,” with respect to the welfare department, “did not necessarily mean

more money,” but rather required that the city regulate benefit distribution more thoroughly.

Henderson urged the city to “be ruthless to the relief cheat but… help the worthy family to re-

establish themselves.”164

Thrift and economy were necessary to ensure that the city could help

162 “The Regina Manifesto,” CCF Program adopted at the First National Conference, held at Regina,

Saskatchewan, July 1933; Nora-Frances Henderson, Monetary Reform Made plain for men and women

who understand the need for changes to our economic system but who require to end the guide ropes which

will lead to social reconstruction, pamphlet published by the CCF, Hamilton, 1933, file 1, Charles Pollicott

Collection, QUA

163 Hamilton Spectator, “Crowded Ballots Await Local Electors,” 23 November 1934.

164 Ibid.

166

those who needed it while keeping an eye on the “unbearable burden being imposed upon her

taxpayers.”165

In keeping with this ideal, she advocated a bill of rights for municipalities, allowing

for a wider distribution of relief.166

She succeeded in getting a Charter of Rights passed in 22

municipalities that, united, put pressure on the province to bear part of the burden of relief and

take it away from the municipalities.167

These actions both for the cities and for the reform of

their relief programs demonstrated her ongoing adherence to liberal notions of self-improvement

through hard work.

Henderson’s far-from-radical politics came into sharp focus when in 1935 she finally

chose to side with one party, surprising many by choosing Stevens’s Reconstruction Party. In

many ways, Stevens’s platform - with its call for industrial stimulus, “fair play” for employees,

and support for “average families” - echoed many of Henderson’s previous public statements.168

Indeed, she herself stated that both Mackenzie King and R.B. Bennett had failed the public and

that Stevens had at least offered a new choice to Canadians. In contrast to the “greed, callousness,

social injustice, and dishonesty” King and Bennett had implicitly countenanced, the

Reconstruction Party had “taken up the challenge to houseclean Canada!”169

The public’s response to Henderson’s run for federal politics was far from positive, with

harsh recriminations flying from all sides. The Spectator, which had begun to voice support for

Henderson once she had proven herself to be a capable politician, described her loss as

unsurprising and the Reconstruction Party’s defeat as inevitable.170

They mostly voiced profound

disappointment at the downfall of the Bennett government, and so Henderson was very much a

165 Hamilton Herald, Election Advertisement, 1 December 1933; Hamilton Herald, “‘Joy’ Draws Ire of

Controller,” 2 June 1935. 166

Hamilton Herald, “Miss Henderson Charges Discrimination,” 9 January 1935; Hamilton Herald,

“Controllers to Seek Equality in Payments,” 4 July 1935. She especially emphasized inequalities in relief

distribution among the nearby cities of Burlington, Brantford and Hamilton 167

Hamilton Herald, Election Advertisement, 27 November 1935. 168

H.H. Stevens, “Reconstructionists’ Aims,” Hamilton Herald, 7 October 1935; Hamilton Spectator, “New

Party To-Day Issues Manifesto,” 12 July 1935. For academic analysis of the party see Cwitco, “H.H.

Stevens and the Reconstruction Party: a Conservative Revolt”; Wilbur, H.H. Stevens, 1878-1973. 169

Hamilton Spectator, “Candidates Present Views to Supporters,” 30 September 1935. 170

Hamilton Spectator, “Defeated Candidates Revel Future Plans,” 15 October 1935.

167

sideline. Having lost a perceived partisan ally, the Hamilton Herald, from which Henderson had

resigned, made an about-face in their support for her. During the 1935 campaign, it ran an

editorial which expressed its distaste for both the Reconstruction Party and Henderson’s

candidacy:

[Henderson] has always worked earnestly for good causes, is a woman of high

principle, and of considerable capacity [who] has accomplished some very

worthy things… it is interesting to note the rungs she has climbed in securing

the knowledge she now possesses of politics… The City gave her the promotion

she desired but the first thing she discovered when she moved into the more

select body was that stupidities within the Board of Control were not the things

that blocked… the goals she had in mind… Miss Henderson has always seen

the ‘way out’… but it may not be desirable to keep on moving her toward…

new horizons unless there can be found soon a fixed political principle to which

she adheres… Being a nice person, an earnest person (and Miss Henderson is)

does not exhaust the list of qualifications one should possess in aspiring to the

office Miss Henderson now seeks.171

Both newspapers fought to take down a political opponent.172

Though the Herald returned to

favourable portrayals of her in the next civic election and published a very kind editorial

following her formal final resignation from the paper, this resistance to her campaign brought to

light some and of gendered dimensions of Hamilton’s conservative liberalism. The press and

public were accepting of her role in civic politics in which she cast her political interests in a

maternal feminist light and respected her determination to serve the public good. However, when

she opposed their candidates they took her down using gendered critiques of her character and

politics. When she was perceived to be a careerist woman opposing traditional politicians, the

editorialists’ support faded. Within this context and because of her choice of party, “Being Nice”

was not enough. These contradictions demonstrate the ways in which Hamilton’s leading

opinion-shapers continued to adhere to traditional liberal political ideals, even as Depression-era

liberals faced some radical choices. Henderson was a woman. When she fit herself neatly into the

171 Hamilton Herald, “Reconstruction,” 25 July 1935. Emphasis added.

172 Hamilton Herald, “Why Stevens Blew Up,” 22 July 1935.

168

sphere in which she was expected to participate, they endorsed her. When she seemingly strayed

outside this framework, she became a figure of intense controversy.

Against King and Capitalism: Alderman Agnes Sharpe Stands Up for Herself

One of the strongest indications of the persistence of traditional gender ideals in

Hamilton politics can be found in the public scouring endured by some of the city’s other elected

women. When any politician deviated from the expected norms of apolitical service to city and

empire, the reactions were harsh and women were not exempt from these rules. While Hamilton’s

political scene had remained largely a man’s world up until the 1930s, Henderson’s transition to

the Board of Control for the 1935 year saw another unprecedented event – the election of another

woman. Now women were represented for the first time in city history on both council and the

Board of Control. That year, Agnes Sharpe, formerly an elected school trustee for Ward Eight to

the Board of Education, saw herself promoted through election to a seat on council, also in Ward

Eight.173

First elected for the 1929 council session, Sharpe initially served, like all Board of

Education members, as an apolitical representative.174

Upon her election she even garnered praise

from Henderson for having “not raised her voice unnecessarily… but what she has said upon

occasion has been good common sense and very much to the point.”175

However, that apolitical

nature and docile approach to politics did not even last beyond her first term. For Sharpe did not

arrive in council as a blank slate. For one thing, she had been granted Sam Lawrence’s

nomination to run in his former territory, the most north-easterly of the city’s wards. With that

came a multitude of expectations. With his blessing and endorsement, she won the election as a

CCF candidate in that ward with nearly exactly a third of the vote, 3,042, in a seven-candidate

173 Inaugural Address by Herbert Wilton, Mayor, to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1935, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1935 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1936), 7 January 1935. 174

Inaugural Address by William Burton, Mayor, to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1929, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 7 January 1929. 175

Henderson, “No Women on Horizon,” 25 November 1929.

169

race.176

She was thought to be at least an ILP sympathizer and the themes explored in her

speeches were often ones Lawrence himself had developed.177

Her political stripe was hardly

difficult to discern.

Service as a school trustee in Hamilton was usually perceived to be even less

controversial than service on council. A woman on the school board could be seen as a person

carrying out, in a different context, the nurturing role designed for her by nature.178

Traditionally

board members were former teachers, principals, or just well-educated citizens who voted on

such issues as constructing new schools, the hiring of teachers, textbook and supply purchases,

and disciplinary measures.179

Rarely did they challenge the city’s fiscal or political priorities

Early in her tenure on the board, Sharpe began to push against this apolitical role

traditionally accorded school trustees. In 1930, she addressed the men’s league of a United

Church in Dundas. She was typical of her time in expressing grave misgivings about the revival

of militarism. She was less typical in candidly associating those misgivings with a critique of the

British Empire in all its aspects. Although herself a recent immigrant from Britain, with members

of her family still there, she struck a note that sounded anti-British to some Hamiltonians. Here

was an Empire, she declared, “built up by conquest,” and doomed like all such empires to fall.180

This anti-militaristic tone in and of itself was not unusual for people, especially among feminists

of all stripes and women on the left, in the inter-war period who remembered only too acutely the

176 Hamilton Spectator, “How Aldermanic Candidates Ran,” 4 December 1934. This amounted to seven

percent of the overall vote in that election. 177

Hamilton Spectator, “Conservatives Hold Council Majority,”4 December 1934; Hamilton Spectator,

“Address Given by Labor Woman,” 17 February 1930. Given the absence of any records for the ILP during

this period, it is impossible to ascertain Sharpe’s actual political allegiances prior to the formation of the

CCF in Hamilton. Given that she immediately became an active and publicly self-identifying member of

that party, it can be assumed that she was very familiar with Hamilton’s ILP members and their policies,

even if she was not actually a member herself. She was publicly identified as a member of the party by the

Spectator in 1931. Hamilton Spectator, “Refuses to Sing National Anthem,” 19 May 1931. 178

Henderson, “Women and the Hospital Board,” 6 December 1930; Hamilton Herald, “Mayor Approves

of Women on Boards,” 19 December 1930; Henderson, “The Mayor is With Us!,” 20 December 1930. 179

Inaugural Address by William Burton, Mayor, to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1929, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1929 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1930), 7 January 1929. 180

Hamilton Spectator, “Address Given by Labor Woman,” 17 February 1930.

170

loss of life that the First World War had occasioned.181

Even Nora-Frances Henderson offered her

criticism of cadet training in schools with no public reprimand. However it was unusual for a

speaker to discuss a perceived political failure on behalf of the British Empire and, notably in this

speech, the overall failure of capitalism as a whole. These elements suggested a far more political

message than those offered by most of the Board of Education’s trustees.

Many women in Hamilton disliked militarism and the shadow of war that constantly

seemed to fall over boys’ education in the city. None but Sharpe raised it so publicly, frequently,

or with such a sharp critique of all things British. It was one thing to say Britain was militaristic;

it was entirely another to openly protest against the much-cherished motherland, as Sharpe did

after 1931. In May of that year it was reported to the Spectator by R.J. Wright, a principal from

Lloyd George School in the city, that Sharpe had told him, on the occasion of planning for

Empire Day no less, that she was against displaying the Union Jack in the school and never sang

the national anthem herself.182

He was “quite amazed” at the statement, especially given that the

Board of Education, as a policy, “stress[ed] the matter of the Empire, its ideals and standards in

the training of children, of whom between 35 and 40 per cent attending this school are of foreign

parentage.”183

Given that the school’s flags had been donated by the IODE whose views on

militarism, empire, and monarchy were certainly not in accord with Sharpe’s own, the slight

seemed even more severe and deliberate.184

Sharpe tried in vain to explain that she had

considered her conversation with Wright private. The backlash against her was anything but.

Sharpe was branded an inconsistent hypocrite, especially given her apparently happy participation

in a similarly imperial and, according to printed descriptions, more overtly militaristic ceremony

181 Campbell, Rose Henderson, 128-145; 237-275.

182 Hamilton Spectator, “Refuses to Sing National Anthem,” 19 May 1931.

183 Ibid.

184 Ibid.

171

for the opening of Memorial School, which had in fact been built as a memorial to the city’s war

dead.185

Discontent over Sharpe’s actions was rife, with parents, veterans, and volunteer groups

all shouting for the resignation of this evidently disloyal woman.186

But, noted Sharpe, her views

had never been a secret and if anyone was responsible for the shock of the news, it was the

principal and the public themselves for not being informed enough about her as a candidate and a

person.187

And indeed, even city officials stated “there is nothing in the declaration required of a

school trustee when assuming office regarding loyalty to the Empire,” so the only way to remove

Sharpe would be to oust her at the polls.188

In Ward Eight, which had a larger population of

immigrants, her anti-British stance played better than in more centrally located, wealthier, and

more British wards. She continued to work publicly for peace. In 1935, she signed on with the

National Council of the Canadian League Against War and Fascism to launch a “conscious and

militant mass movement organized from below to… halt the warmakers.”189

As an Alderman, Sharpe was involved in a number of largely ceremonial votes to send

letters of congratulation or official greetings to the appropriate serving monarch of the time. She

first occasioned the “apparent surprise” of the mayor and council when she would not sign a

congratulatory note to King George V and Queen Mary for their 25 years of service.190

Even the

more liberal Herald described it in an editorial piece as a “stand on the part of a British person,

whether Labourite, [or] member of the CCF [that] impresses us as being stupid extremism, or

‘grand-standing’ of a character that is in very bad taste.”191

Sharpe additionally refused to take an

185 Hamilton Spectator, “Inconsistency is Claimed of Woman Trustee,” 21 May 1931.

186 Ibid.

187 Hamilton Spectator, “Against Militarism, Mrs. Sharpe States.” 20 May 1931.

188 Hamilton Spectator, “Inconsistency is Claimed of Woman Trustee,” 21 May 1931.

189 Manifesto and Programme of the Canadian League Against War and Fascism, Adopted at the First

Congress held in Toronto, Ontario, 6 and 7 October 1934, box 1, file 1, Charles Pollicott Collection, QUA.

Rose Henderson was also a supporter. 190

Hamilton Herald, “Ald. Agnes Sharpe Refuses to join in Civic Resolution Congratulating King, Queen,”

1 May 1935. 191

Hamilton Herald, “A Wiser Stand,” 1 May 1935.

172

oath of allegiance to the new King Edward VIII, even though, as the Mount Hamilton branch of

the Canadian Legion Ladies’ Auxiliary put it, he was “a monarch with sympathetic understanding

and one who was a true friend to all his subjects, especially of the working class.”192

Alderman

Sharpe would also not sign a motion requesting a boycott of German goods because she worried

it could be seen as a sign of militaristic antagonism.193

Sharpe’s stormy career contrasted with

that of Sam Lawrence, her fellow radical. Although both were often embroiled in controversy,

there was a gendered pattern to the dismissals that Sharpe incurred. Lawrence was never scorned

as “a woman who puts her head out an upper window to tell a caller that she is not ‘at home’.”194

Even within this world view of dichotomized politics, Sharpe obviously did have her

supporters. The Spectator received two sympathetic letters to the editor that it published

following Sharpe’s refusal of the oath to Edward VIII. Perhaps tellingly, both were submitted

anonymously. One commended her for her public dedication to her ideals, even in the face of

such grave opposition: “She has the courage to openly express her convictions, a virtue that is

sadly lacking in the majority… She is a fine woman with the welfare of the suffering humanity at

heart and if she elects to belong to the brotherhood of the human race rather than professing

allegiance to a temporal state, surely that is her prerogative. It does not make her a poorer

alderman.”195

The next letter pointed out, “the citizens who have given Mrs. Sharpe a substantial

majority at the polls, for a number of years, are, for the most part, either by birth or adoption also

192 Hamilton Spectator, “Resolution of Protest Forwarded to Council,” 14 February 1936; Call for a Motion

of Censure against Agnes Sharpe, not introduced, to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1936, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1936 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1937), 25 February 1936. Once again, while many in the

public were not pleased with Sharpe’s actions, there was nothing the city could legally or politically do to

force her to take an oath of allegiance to any king, and especially not one “pledg[ing] the subscriber to take

up arms at the behest of the government which might or might not conflict with his views against war.”

Even Lawrence, who rarely spoke out publicly in support of fellow-party member Sharpe, conceded he

“himself would hesitate to take [the oath] since its wording conflicted with his own views upon wars

inspired for profit by armament makers.” Hamilton Spectator, “Would Take Short Oath,” 14 February

1936. While the subsequent Abdication Crisis certainly cast uncertainty on Edward VIII’s later reign, in

early 1936 he was not yet publicly seen as the precarious monarch of popular memory 193

Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1939, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1939 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1940), 11 April 1939 194

Hamilton Herald, “Native Sons Officer Scores ‘Poor Taste’ of Alderman Sharpe,” 1 May 1935. 195

Nil Desperandum, letter to the editor, “Supports Mrs. Sharpe,” Hamilton Spectator, 19 February 1936.

173

British[.] That they are well satisfied to have so able and courageous a representative in the

council is attested by their loyal support.”196

Her femininity was brought up by the next reader as

well, who also thought to question if “masculine prejudice toward women in business and public

office” might have had something to do with Sharpe’s repeated public humiliations.197

Support

for Sharpe was limited though, and as “A BRITON” wrote to the Spectator, for many the

“bolshevik attitude of Agnes Sharpe” was intolerable.198

“Anyway, a woman’s place is in the

home,” the anonymous writer concluded. “I am sure there are many veterans who could more

intelligently fill the job.”199

Perhaps the apex of this public conflict came when Alderman Sharpe decided she would

not utter an oath of allegiance to the King when he came for the Royal Visit of 1939. The city’s

elected officials – among the few Hamiltonians actually guaranteed a chance to meet him – were

supposed to sit on a dais and greet the King on his arrival.200

Unsurprisingly, even when faced

with the opportunity to meet the King himself, Sharpe politely declined, especially in the face of

questions about how she could reap the benefits of royalty without the required loyalty. In a very

properly worded response to the Spectator, Sharpe told the public that meeting the King “implied

willingness to bear arms in defence of the crown… contrary to her pacifist convictions.”201

Noting “objections to my taking part in the proceedings in connection with the civic reception

here,” she demonstrated graciousness and a desire to create a harmonious environment for

monarchical Hamiltonians: “rather than contribute one discordant note on this occasion, thereby

196 A Woman, letter to the editor, “Defends Mrs. Sharpe,” Hamilton Spectator, 28 February 1936.

197 Ibid.

198 A Briton, letter to the editor, “Act of Bravado,” Hamilton Spectator, 19 February 1936.

199 Ibid.

200 Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton’s Gift to King Civic Address of Welcome,” 12 May 1939; Hamilton

Spectator, “Their Majesties to Travel Slowly Through the City,” 15 May 1939; Hamilton Spectator,

“Complete Plans for Royal Visit Here are Announced,” 17 May 1939. 201

Hamilton Spectator, “Mrs. Sharpe Will Not Be Presented; Explains Reasons,” 19 May 1939.

174

spoiling the happiness and enjoyment of the people, I will forgo the privilege of being present.”202

Rather than make a scene Sharpe stayed home.

While Sharpe continued to get elected in her ethnically diverse ward throughout the

1930s, Hamilton’s flag-waving, Empire-loving citizens made sure her controversial opinions

were shouted down at every opportunity. In August 1939 Sharpe took leave from Council to sail

back to England to visit family before the war made the ocean impassable. She returned to

Canada on the S.S. Athenia and thus found herself in the unlikely position of being on the first

ship torpedoed by German U-boats during the Second World War.203

The reaction to her presence

on the boat was overshadowed by the more obviously tragic death of ten-year-old Hamiltonian

Margaret Heyworth, whose funeral was accorded the highest degree of recognition from all levels

of government and will be discussed in detail in the next chapter.204

Sharpe found herself

confined to England for the foreseeable future and thus could not run for election. Her initial

absence and eventual resignation received only a perfunctory two lines of text each in city council

minutes, and the so-called “Special Meeting” called to fill her vacancy was nothing more than the

standard procedure demanded to fill such vacancies.205

Unlike civic engineers, city solicitors, and

council members who had left service before her in Hamilton, her resignation elicited none of the

effusive speeches of praise that had been customary for departing city officials. Her absence did

not even merit a single line in the Spectator, now overcome with war fever. She was only recalled

to memory when the city passed a motion making it mandatory that anyone serving in an elected

position in Hamilton swear an oath to the crown, even though “Ex-Alderman Mrs. Agnes Sharpe,

202 Ibid.

203 Globe and Mail, “Athenia is Torpedoed,” 4 September 1939.

204 Globe and Mail, “Thousands Pay Tribute as Child Victim of Athenia is Laid to Rest,” 18 September

1939. 205

Motion to grant leave of absence to Agnes Sharpe at City of Hamilton, City Council, 1939, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1939 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1940), 12 September 1939; Meeting of City of Hamilton,

City Council, 1939, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1939 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1940), 10 October 1939; Special meeting called to fill the vacancy caused by resignation of Alderman Agnes Sharpe at City of

Hamilton, City Council, 1939, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1939 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1940), 31

October 1939.

175

it will be remembered, refrained from taking the oath during the several years she served as an

aldermanic representative.”206

Sharpe slipped out of public memory in the city. She had, as a

radical woman resisting the projects of the state, strayed beyond her place.

In contrast, when Henderson tragically passed away at the age of 52 in 1949, childless

and unmarried, after a brief but “courageous battle for life,” her obituary was carried in both local

and national papers. A formal committee of council was struck whose sole duty it was to decide

how best to commemorate her.207

Remembered as “a little woman whose voice… was raised in

defence of right,” and having served on council for sixteen years, she had continued to devote the

last of her years to improving social services, working as the Executive Secretary for the

Children’s Aid Society of Ontario. 208

The Hamilton Women’s Civic Club assembled an honour

guard for her funeral.

The parallel yet divergent lives of Agnes Sharpe and Nora-Frances Henderson

demonstrate the limits of women’s inclusion in the political world of Hamilton, one that revered

the liberal individual. Women were certainly respected and valued for their role as wives,

mothers, and auxiliary social supports for the community. As the Depression transformed

Hamilton’s economic landscape, these services became even more valuable. So long as they

worked within the confines of these roles and the rules of respectability that accompanied them,

women were even able to find a legitimate, if confined, space in its politics. However, should

these expectations be transgressed, no amount of virtuous femininity could save their reputations.

Hamilton’s female politicians were as restricted by the expectations of a proper politician as their

male counterparts, but with the expected double bind of their gender attached.

206 Hamilton Spectator, “All Candidates Must Swear Their Allegiance to King,” 21 November 1939.

207 Ellen Fairclough, Alderman, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1949 Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1949 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1950), 12 April 1949. They eventually decided to name the new

maternity hospital in her honour, and it bore her name until 2011. 208

The Globe and Mail, “Nora-Frances Henderson Ex-Hamilton Controller, Women’s Champion Dies,” 24

March 1949. The Toronto Star, “Final Tribute Paid to Miss Henderson,” 25 March 1949.

176

Chapter 6: Making the Past, Fearing the Future: Empire, Immigration

and the “Other” in an Age of Anxiety

The strong hold of traditional liberal thought in Hamilton politics was in a large part

connected to the even more powerful attachment many in the city felt to Britain, whether by

heritage or by recent immigration. This attachment was prominently reinforced by the city’s

amateur historians and historical societies who sought to tie the current city to its cultured British

roots. However, this firm connection between political traditions and white, British respectability

caused problems for those wondering how best to integrate the city’s growing immigrant

population into this order. While some believed that immigrants could be taught liberal values

and integrated as citizens, others as firmly considered this an impossible mission. As

demonstrated by reactions to the CPC and wartime arrests of ethnic groups within the city, the

exclusivist defence of “British liberty” could reach dangerously repressive levels, especially for

Hamilton’s numerous and often oppressed “Others.” These celebrations of British attachment and

these acts of exclusion were expressed using the political language of the city: both were justified

in terms of defending the ideal of the traditional liberal individual.

Whiteness and the Culture of Empire in a Historical Context

When writing about Britishness and Empire in Hamilton, it is important to interrogate

what this meant for the city’s growing population of non-British immigrants who did not fit the

pervasively promulgated imperial image. Hamilton’s immigrant experience was informed by the

strength of the dominant culture of white, British identity. As census data on unemployment and

immigrants, discussions about ethnicity and communism, and debates in unions about adhering to

“proper” political techniques all demonstrate, middle-class ideologies did cross class lines. A

racially-suffused ideology excluded recent non-British immigrants on the basis that they could

not or would not follow the basic rules of British Canadianism. Many elite Hamiltonians

177

expressed a deep nativist disquiet about the effect that immigration and ethnic diversity would

have on what it meant to be Canadian. In historian James Barrett’s words, new immigrants were

viewed as “racially as well as culturally inferior,” even when – as in the case of Italians, the Irish,

and Central and Eastern European newcomers – they were phenotypically members of what we

would now consider white races.1 Much as in Barrett’s work in the American context, Canada

was legally and politically structured such that “Whiteness enters the picture when you consider

the standard against which [immigrants] were judged… the notion of a white, Anglo-Saxon

Protestant Standard of ‘Americanism’… is essential to recognize that these immigrants were not

part of this white mainstream.”2

As Alexander Saxton discusses in his work, The Rise and Fall of the White Republic:

Class Politics and Mass Culture in Nineteenth Century, these ideas of class, race, and whiteness

extended across American political culture. He shows how Americans defined their whiteness in

an ongoing process of ideological revision, adapting it to suit the dominant political language of

the times.3 Thus, as ideological language about citizenship and Americanism changed, so too did

the ways people defined themselves in opposition to others, David Roediger’s later work extends

these questions of identity to immigrants to the United States who could be made white through

determinants of their “fitness for citizenship.”4 As explored in Jennifer Guglielmo’s collection on

the topic, Are Italians White? How Race is Made in America, non-black immigrant others, like

Italians, formed a separate group of non-white, non-citizens who “did not automatically create

ties to the middle-class white power structure, which continued to view them as other.”5 Being

1 James Barrett, “Whiteness Studies: Anything Here for Historians of the Working Class?” International

Labor and Working Class History 60 (October 2001): 35. 2 Ibid., 35.

3 Alexander Saxton, The Rise and Fall of the White Republic: Class Politics and Mass Culture in

Nineteenth-Century America (London: Verson, 1990), 16-18. 4 David R. Roediger, Colored White: Transcending the Racial Past (Berkeley: University of California

Press, 2002), 144-146. 5 Caroline Waldron Meithew, “Making the Italian Other: Blacks, Whites, and the Inbetween in the 1895

Spring Valley, Illinois, Race Riot,” in Are Italians White? How Race is Made in America, Jennifer

Guglielmo and Salvator Salerno (New York: Routledge, 2003): 80-83, 97.

178

“white” in the United States was often defined by the working class in opposition to African-

Americans and to non-white ethnic citizen groups.

Canadians’ ideas of white civility were informed by their British heritage, rather than by

ideals of republicanism. As Daniel Coleman discusses in White Civility: The Literary Project of

English Canada, by the mid-twentieth-century, “popular images of cooperative, pan-ethnic

Britishness [informed] the Canadian concept of White civility: ‘Britishness’ – as a form of

government, as a union of formerly hostile peoples, as a civilization.”6 And as Constance

Backhouse emphasizes in Colour-Coded: A History of Racism in Canada, 1900-1950, visibly

white people dominated the Canadian landscape in the first half of the twentieth century, and thus

dominated how both race and the “other” were defined.7 It also meant that the government was

able to shape and enforce legislation around these dominant ideals, reinforcing this “otherness” in

a visible and practical way. Backhouse’s multi-layered analysis of race and the law makes a

conscious effort to acknowledge the differences that existed in the experiences of different racial

groups in Canada, taking care not to lump them all into one sweeping pattern.8 It is crucial to

acknowledge the importance of the unexpressed undertones of words like ‘citizen,’ ‘propriety,’

and ‘civility,’ which carried with them implicit references to race as well as culture. Building

upon Ian McKay and Robin Bates’s work on the constructed Scottish heritage of Nova Scotia, I

argue that Hamilton serves as the perfect example of the effects that this constructed ethnic past

had on imagining and shaping the values of a community.9

6 Daniel Coleman, White Civility: The Literary Project of English Canada, (Toronto: University of Toronto

Press, 2006), 18-20. 7 Constance Backhouse, Colour-Coded: A Legal History of Racism in Canada, 1900-1950 (Toronto:

Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History, 1999), 9-11, 13. 8 Ibid., ix.

9 Ian McKay and Robin Bates, In the Province of History: The Making of the Public Past in Twentieth-

Century Nova Scotia,(Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2010), 8-16, 33-36.

179

“Yes, Hamilton Has a Character All Its Own:” Writing Hamilton’s Past and Present in the

Age of Empire

On 7 June 1939, Hamilton was among a handful of cities that received an extended visit

from King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. Extensive preparation went into ensuring the couple

received a most pleasing image of the city. They were welcomed by veterans, school children,

military men, city councillors, and many others, since the city had ordered employers to give all

their workers the day off.10

The Spectator was crammed from cover to cover with advertisements

welcoming the couple to the city. For those Hamiltonians taking out ads, lining the parade route,

and cheering heartily for the royal couple, loyalty to the crown and empire was nothing new.

Even those who were not passionate imperialists were authoritatively advised that Empire was an

integral part of their city’s very identity.

This adherence was seen in times of joy, like the Royal Visit, but also in times of

struggle, like the abdication crisis in December 1936. This “Grievous News” was borne with the

proper balance of disappointment and dedication by the Spectator and the city’s middle-class

British descendants.11

Edward VIII’s short rule was punctuated by reflections on his virtues. “It is

in sudden crises that character is tested,” the Spectator wrote following an assassination attempt

on his life, “while his life was in danger [he] exhibited his personal courage and coolness, though

of course no such demonstration was needed, for His Majesty has given repeated proof of his

manly qualities.”12

Even as late as November of that year, when Edward VIII was thought to be

aligning himself politically with the Labour Party in Britain, against British Royal conventions

and the wishes of Parliament, the Spectator drummed up nice things to say about him.

Remembering Britain’s past problems with tyrannical monarchs, the editors wrote that such

difficulties had never arisen in the case of Edward: “Should the present King of England ever

involve himself seriously in political controversy, it would be as the champion of the poorest of

10 Hamilton Spectator, “Merchants, Manufacturers To Observe Royal Visit,” 6 May 1939

11 Hamilton Spectator, “Edward Abdicates – Duke of York is King,” 10 December 1936.

12 Hamilton Spectator, “‘Every Inch a King,’” 17 July 1936.

180

his subjects.”13

Even the Mount Hamilton branch of the Canadian Legion Ladies’ Auxiliary

thought he was at least a sympathetic king, if nothing else.14

His abdication thus came as a shock, although not as a complete surprise. While the

proper Spectator and the majority of Canadian newspapers had followed the lead of British

newspapers and not published rumours about the couple leading up to the abdication, Time

magazine had covered the story in November 1936, with a series of articles on Wallis Simpson

and her relationship with the King.15

J.M. Pigott, the city’s leading architect who also formed an

important pillar in its social and cultural life, marked the abdication thus in his diary: “Here is a

man born to the throne, trained all his life for the job – the idol of this people – who turns his

back on his duty – and for a woman who is an adventuress – twice divorced and plainly an

opportunist.”16

The Spectator used the opportunity of the crisis to reflect on what should be

expected of those in power and of the citizens they governed. Duty should be adhered to: “On

every citizen rests the obligation of steadiness, of giving loyal support to those who are called

upon to act for them in these momentous days. In this way will public confidence be maintained

and the situation restored. This is the plain duty of all of us.”17

While George VI may have “never

had the glitter of his brother,” the Spectator reminded its readers that such shimmer constituted a

vain cover and did not conform to the English temperament, for “in quiet and unspectacular kings

our country has found the finest rulers.”18

That “our country” was the Empire was noteworthy.

13 Hamilton Spectator, “The King and Politics,” 17 November 1936.

14 Hamilton Spectator, “Resolution of Protest Forwarded to Council,” 14 February 1936; Call for a Motion

of Censure against Agnes Sharpe, not introduced, City of Hamilton, City Council, 1936, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1936 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1937), 25 February 1936. 15

“Queen Wallis,” Time, 9 November 1936 (28, no. 19): 65-67; “Unprivate Lives,” Time, 23 November

1936 (28, no. 21): 21-24; “Unprivate Lives,” Time, 30 November 1936 (28, no. 22): 21-23. It later named

her “Woman of the Year,” after Edward VIII was forced to abdicate for her. Carrie Catt, “Woman of the

Year,” Time, 4 January 1937 (29, no. 1): 15-21. 16

J.M. Pigott, condensed diaries, 231-2, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds, WRDARC. 17

Hamilton Spectator, “The King’s Choice,” 10 December 1936. 18

Hamilton Spectator, “The New King,” 10 December 1936; Hamilton Spectator, “A Testing Throne,” 10

December 1936.

181

Coverage of the coronation of George VI continued to reflect this preference for a

thoughtful, not an exciting, king. Hamilton’s politicians were expected to be sober vessels of

well-considered arguments meant to unite and represent a city; the King should embody these

virtues ten-fold. The coverage suggested that, whatever the role of heredity in making a king,

Edward VIII had always lacked the natural virtues to become one. The Spectator posited George

VI would be happily welcomed as he could be energetic but thoughtful: “Between forty and fifty

a man has the energy and enthusiasm of youth, tempered by maturity. And we require as our

monarch at this time one imbued with the sober virtue of steadiness and quiet strength.”19

Pigott,

listening to the coronation on the radio, praised George VI as “earnest,” and said he had made “a

splendid impression.”20

It was these virtues that his father had embodied and that reflected the

character that Hamilton’s middle classes desired of their leaders. As Pigott wrote of George V in

his diary after his death, “He was a good man – upright, kingly simple, a martyr to his duty…

History will give him a niche of his own for character and worth.”21

In short, for many Hamiltonians their city simply was British. And building a British, or

at least Loyalist, history around this theme became a central goal for Hamilton’s growing group

of amateur and local historians. It was necessary, in a city whose leading cultural producers

believed so firmly in Empire, that the city’s history match its present worldview. While Hamilton

had only become a city legally in 1846, and was not much more than a trading outpost in the three

decades that preceded that date, a burgeoning group of amateur historians and genealogists

enthusiastically grasped at any hints of a more noble heritage to recreate Hamilton as something

more than a city of trade and industry. Shaping an official story around cornerstones such as

Dundurn Castle, its noble British lord Sir Allan MacNab, the Battle of Stoney Creek, and the

19 Hamilton Spectator, “The New King,” 9 June 1937.

20 J.M. Pigott condensed diaries, 247, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds, WRDARC.

21 Ibid., 223. Pigott would echo this admiration when they saw the King up close at the running of the

Queen’s Plate at the Woodbine. Ibid., 264.

182

Loyalist tradition, real or otherwise, Hamilton’s historical enthusiasts imagined their city into a

veritable metropolis of prestige and heritage.

Among the chief propagators of Hamilton’s alleged “Storied Past” was Hamilton’s Grand

Dame of local history, Mabel Burkholder. Burkholder was, by the 1930s, a well-established

author and historian who lived in and worked primarily on Hamilton and its history. She also

wrote on subjects that were related to these topics more tangentially, such as Before the White

Man Came, which was a collection of supposed oral history fragments collected from the First

Nations peoples in the surrounding area.22

She rose to local fame by chronicling the city’s past in

a weekly Spectator column called “Out of the Storied Past.” Then she brought out a book on the

city’s history, The Story of Hamilton. Her status as Hamilton’s leading chronicler of past deeds

was suggested by her prominence in 1968 in a Canadian centennial publication, also of the same

name, distributed to all of the city’s school children.23

Through her publications, the weekly

column and her numerous local histories of the city, Burkholder continually constructed a grand

past for the city, demonstrating how it had been transformed from a wilderness into a cultured

metropolis.

Much as Burkholder shaped the city’s sense of history, she also acknowledged its faults.

Hamilton began as a rough and uncivilized trading post. Burkholder could not hide Hamilton’s

humble origins as a trading post entirely, so instead she reframed this past as a demonstration of

the pioneers’ hard work and ingenuity, virtues she saw reflected in the city.24

Moving on from

Hamilton’s early uncivilized roots, her story rapidly progressed from pioneer days to the

Loyalists’ arrival. As she wrote, “The Loyalists, as a class, were people of culture and set a high

22 Mabel Burkholder, Before the White Man Came: Indian Legends and Stories (Toronto: McClelland,

1923). 23

Burkholder, The Story of Hamilton; Mabel Burkholder, Out of the Storied Past (Hamilton, Ontario:

Hamilton District Board of Education, 1968). 24

Mabel Burkholder, The Story Of Hamilton, incomplete manuscript, 24, box 1, file 2, Mabel Burkholder

fonds, WRDARC.

183

value on education.”25

With the help of Loyalist guidance the city was transformed into one

where “the cultural side of life ke[pt] pace with the industrial.”26

Combining the hard work and

ingenuity of the city’s pioneers with cultural excellence, Hamilton as imagined by Burkholder

was a city where every citizen had a valuable role. In reality Burkholder’s “Loyalists” moved to

Hamilton in the mid-nineteenth century were not the original Revolutionary refugees, but later

descendants of the original Empire Loyalists, Burkholder imbued these descendants with heroic

virtues. This is unsurprising since Burkholder’s own acknowledged sources came from the

surviving relatives of those early settlers. Amateur genealogical records had been meticulously

kept by those who hoped to gain admission to the city’s prestigious UEL Association.27

While

these reminiscences did not necessarily disparage other ethnic groups or cultures, they did tend to

make an implicit claim to cultural refinement, political virtue, and military valour, qualities not

shared by everyone.

This sentiment was echoed in a May 1933 retrospective of Hamilton’s history, one that

was apparently made largely by Anglo-Canadian entrepreneurs, lawyers, bankers, reverends,

doctors and Chamber of Commerce members. These “Optimists Coming into Their Own [in a]

World Well Weary of the Pessimists” had worked to transform Hamilton religiously,

educationally, culturally, and economically into a city in which these men could take pride.28

As

the Spectator boasted,

Material things and possessions do not make a city great; the spirit of its people

is the touchstone… Hamilton has been and is the home of many men of

achievement, men whose purposeful lives have given to the city those

developments, industries, services, and organizations which have largely made

Hamilton what it is – a delightful place in which to live and move and have our

being… men of accomplishment, who in serving well their own concerns have

25 Ibid., 29.

26 Ibid., 63.

27 For a deeper exploration of this myth making process in effect across Ontario, see Norman Knowles,

Inventing the Loyalists: The Ontario Loyalist Tradition and the Creation of Usable Pasts (Toronto:

University of Toronto Press, 1997). 28

Hamilton Spectator, “Figures That Have Loomed Large in Hamilton History,” 29 May 1933.

184

also served Hamilton – men whose fidelity to Hamilton’s interests is marked –

men who during a storm, look forward to the rainbow.29

Conspicuous on this list were men who had given their lives for the city and thus, as the article

pointed out, made it the pride of the Empire. That Stanley Mills, the UEL’s president and main

driver and fundraiser, made the list is unsurprising, nor was the presence of the leading Anglican

bishops in the city. These men’s social prestige enshrined them in this city’s commemoration of

its age of progress, establishing visibly that white, Anglo-Saxon men had shaped the city’s

values. They were allegedly even to thank for the physical beauty of the city:

It would appear that soot and smoke and scented blossoms do not go hand in

hand; that the withering heat of blast furnaces and the cooling atmosphere of

grassy reaches and flower-bordered walks are as remotely separated as the

poles. Yet in Hamilton the two conditions are to be found living together in

perfect equanimity… Hamilton owes a debt of deep and lasting gratitude to

those idealistic, courageous gentlemen… The image they had in mind of a City

Beautiful has been partially revealed… [it] has been transformed into a

veritable fairyland of ‘gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, blossoms

flaunting in the eye of day.’30

The Spectator praised Hamilton’s middle-class movers and shakers as apostles and builders of its

cultural, industrial, and even aesthetic greatness.

Much as Burkholder was able to reshape the city’s past to transform it from a rough

trading post to a noble stronghold, she emphasized the British ties in her own family’s past in an

unpublished history entitled The Palatines in Ontario. Perhaps with growing German militarism

and the past discrimination that German immigrants had faced during the last world war in mind,

she entwined her family’s heritage with that of the Empire Loyalists she held up so proudly in

The Story of Hamilton. As a descendent of Pennsylvania Dutch and German immigrants, she

drew parallels between them and the Loyalists. Like the Loyalists, they too had decided to

29 Hamilton Spectator, “Builders of Greater Hamilton,” 29 May 1933. The very ideals described in these

founders reinforce the salience of the individual and the self-made man to the creation of Hamilton, its

culture and its heritage. This trend has previously been studied for an earlier period and it is interesting to

see how these values were retained in a later one. See Allan Smith, “The Myth of the Self-Made Man in

English Canada, 1850-1914,” Canadian Historical Review 59, no. 2 (1978): 189-219. 30

Hamilton Spectator, “Builders of Greater Hamilton,” 29 May 1933.

185

immigrate to Canada in the era of the Revolution. She claimed that they, like the Empire

Loyalists, had also suffered for their convictions and their dislike of American ways.31

She

carefully set them apart from modern Germans as well:

The contribution which these people made to the development of their adopted

country is the theme of this work. Although the Palatinate was a German state,

the Palatines were as unlike the modern German militarists as can well be

imagined. They, too, suffered all the indignities, insults, and horrors which we

associate with Prussian frightfulness and left their beautiful homeland to escape

an enslavement worse than death.32

Both through her recreation of her own past and her integration of her family’s heritage into the

Loyalist trope. Burkholder showed how an Imperial Hamilton could be discerned in the most

mundane historical details.

While it might seem unlikely that a city so devoted to progress could simultaneously

evince such passion for the civility and decorum of the Empire, Hamilton’s Conservative middle-

class boosters did just that. As the Spectator wrote on the theme of imperial solidarity,

Evolution is not a process of breaking-down but of building up. That fact is

clearly recognized by all responsible statesmen… but there are, unfortunately,

elements which either through thoughtlessness or design, merit the description

given them of ‘Empire-breakers.’ These it is necessary to watch and keep in

check. Not greater independence, but ‘closer co-operation and real solidarity in

policy,’… is the great requirement of the coming years.33

Hamilton’s imperial roots ran deeper than those in other Anglo-Canadian large cities.

Hamiltonian Clementine Fessenden had been a driving force in the founding and implementation

of Empire Day as a civic, and later provincial, national, and even Empire-wide observance.34

Unlike modern Canada Day activities, which centre on fireworks and frivolity, Empire Day was

intended to be, and largely executed as, a planned program of educational and orderly

celebrations, encompassing skits, recitals, essay writing exercises, and other similarly reflective

31 Mabel Burkholder, The Palatines in Ontario, unpublished manuscript, 2, box 1, file 1, Mabel Burkholder

fonds, WRDARC. 32

Ibid. 33

Hamilton Spectator, “Empire Solidarity,” 27 January 1930. 34

Hamilton Spectator, “Empire Day Founder,” 2 June 1930.

186

activities meant to promote and reinforce the importance of Empire to all in the Dominion,

including (and especially) new young Canadians who might not have been exposed to the

ideology at home.35

This commemorative tradition persisted into the 1960s.

As Empire Day continued in schools, providing an opportunity for a solemn valuing of

the Empire, Hamiltonians also were “given the opportunity to show their loyal enthusiasm for the

Empire and their love of true sportsmanship” at the Empire Games, held in Hamilton in August of

1930.36

At these inaugural Empire Games, Hamiltonians took great pride in being able to host

athletes from around the Empire, in the precursor to the modern Commonwealth Games. Not only

did this feed Hamilton’s desire to present itself as one of the most beautiful cities in the Empire, it

also provided an important reminder, though one buried in fun, that the Empire remained an

important touchstone in the lives of many Hamiltonians. Countries and colonies from British

Guiana to Wales, New Zealand to Newfoundland united at the opening ceremonies in the

costumes of their own countries to celebrate the collective strength of the contemporary empire.37

With the Governor General presiding, “Businesses, houses, and private residences, gaily decked

with flags and bunting heralded the arrival of the long-looked-for day. Practically every other

person wore the official British Empire colors.”38

The event made Hamilton for one week the true

centre of Empire. Hamilton was also home to a prosperous population of successful British

descendants, who devoted much of their spare time to tracing their roots. Founded in 1896,

Hamilton’s branch of the UEL Association thrived under the patronage of some of its oldest, and

35 Hamilton Spectator, “Empire Day,” 22 May 1931; Hamilton Spectator, “Empire Day,” 23 May 1932;

Burkholder, The Story of Hamilton, 162. 36

Hamilton Spectator, “Empire Games,” 7 August 1930. 37

Hamilton Spectator, “Striking Ceremony for Games Opening,” 7 August 1930. This phenomenon has

been studied in later years by Michael Dawson, in an analysis of the 1954 British Empire Games, in which

he examines their utility as a spectacle and unifying symbol within the decolonizing Empire. Michael

Dawson, “Putting Cities ‘on the map’: the 1954 British Empire & Commonwealth Games in Comparative

and Historical Perspective,” Urban Geography 32, 6 (2011): 788-803; Michael Dawson, “Acting Global,

Thinking Local: 'Liquid Imperialism' and the Multiple Meanings of the 1954 British Empire &

Commonwealth Games,” The International Journal of the History of Sport 23, 1 (February 2006): 3-27. 38

Hamilton Spectator, “Governor-General Arrives for Games,” 16 August 1930.

187

increasingly more prestigious, citizens. They were joined by a growing population of British

immigrants.39

This combination of old-timers and newcomers and of wealth and enthusiasm was best

represented by the Mills Family, chiefly Stanley Mills. Mills and his brother, Charles, took pride

in their Loyalist heritage. They were descended on their father’s side from the Mills family which

had settled in Hamilton in the early nineteenth century and on his mother’s side from the Gages,

one of Hamilton’s largest land-owning families who later donated much of their farmland for use

as parks. 40

Mills and his brothers had developed the small family hardware business into a

successful department store, along with interests in real estate and investment. Stanley maintained

the hardware branch of the business and the rest of the business was controlled by a holding

trust.41

To honour his mother’s side of the family, Mills had thrown himself into researching and

commemorating the family’s genealogy. He funded and commissioned the erection of a UEL

Memorial to serve as the most public display of his adoration for his family’s notable past. “A

perpetual reminder of devotion to principles, valor, and the quality of overcoming the most

difficult obstacles,” the statue, shipped all the way from the March family studios in England,

depicted a family of Loyalists escaping American oppression.42

It was placed in the square in

front of the court house, where the statue would serve as a permanent reminder of the devotion

and bravery of Hamilton’s Loyalist ancestors. Unveiled on 24 May 1929 with much pomp, in a

ceremony that echoed the telegraphed transnational unveiling of the Battle of Stoney Creek

Monument by Queen Victoria herself, speeches, songs, and poetry recitations by prominent

39 The UEL Association of Ontario Annual Transactions, 10 March 1898, UEL Collection, HPL.

40 Kathryn Maudsley, “Charles Mills,” Dictionary of Hamilton Biography, volume 3, Thomas Melville

Bailey, editor (Hamilton, Ontario: Dictionary of Hamilton Biography, 1992),146-147; Kathryn Maudsley,

“Edwin Mills,” Dictionary of Hamilton Biography, volume 3, Thomas Melville Bailey, editor (Hamilton,

Ontario: Dictionary of Hamilton Biography, 1992), 147; Kathryn Maudsley, “Stanley Mills,” Dictionary of

Hamilton Biography, volume 3, Thomas Melville Bailey, editor (Hamilton, Ontario: Dictionary of

Hamilton Biography, 1992), 148-149; Anna C. Cawthra, “The Mills Family,” The UEL Association of

Ontario Annual Transactions, 10 March 1898, UEL Collection, HPL. 41

Maudsley, “Stanley Mills,” 148-149. 42

Hamilton Spectator, “Great Spirit Lives Again in Hamilton,” 25 May 1929.

188

members of the Hamilton community all spoke to the ways a “memory” of the UELs could shape

Hamiltonians’ sense of the past.43

And the future too: as the Spectator wrote on the organization’s

anniversary, “The sentiments of the Loyalists ought to be the sentiments of every citizen of

Canada and of the Empire; they are instinct with courage, faith, and gratitude. In such a spirit, the

nation cannot fail to go forward to greater and greater achievement.”44

Figure 6: Current photograph of the United Empire Loyalist family statue Hamilton, 2014. The inscription

on the front of the statue reads "This monument is dedicated to the lasting memory of the United Empire

Loyalists who, after the declaration of independence, came into British North America from the seceded

American colonies and who, with faith and fortitude, and under great pioneering difficulties, largely laid

the foundations of this Canadian nation as an integral part of the British Empire. Neither confiscation of

their property, the pitiless persecution of their kinsmen in revolt, nor the calling chains of imprisonment

could break their spirits or divorce them from a loyalty almost without parallel. ‘No country ever had such

founders – no county in the world – no, not since the days of Abraham.’ – Lady Tennyson.” Source:

Author’s collection.

43 Charles R. McCullough, “Battlefield of Stoney Creek,” Hamilton Spectator, 7 June 1930.

44 Hamilton Spectator, “U.E.L. Spirit,” 13 December 1933.

189

Out near the city’s new north-western entrance, in what were still largely the outskirts,

stood the most visible sign of Hamilton’s imperial past, Sir Allan MacNab’s romantic Italianate

mansion known as Dundurn Castle. Surrounded by private parklands used both for leisure and

political assemblies, the Castle had fallen into disrepair during the twentieth century, as it

switched hands from one private owner to the next. In the words of Burkholder, “Many and bitter

have been the fights to save stately old Dundurn Castle from the tools of the wrecker. It was not a

paying proposition and the time had passed when wealthy citizens displayed their magnificence…

living in the enormous houses that were difficult to heat and expensive to keep up.”45

After the

death of its last private owner in 1933, Dundurn Castle came to the attention of the UEL which

used some of the money they had in reserve, rounded out later by an inheritance following the

demise of the organization’s president Stanley Mills in 1937, to complete extensive “restorations”

to the building so that it could house the UEL’s collection of its “many articles of historical

character relating to the U.E. Loyalists.”46

Since the city had assumed ownership of the building,

Mills collaborated with the Parks Board on restoration efforts until his death. This transformation

elevated the declining Castle from sad decay to conspicuous historical attraction. It figured in all

the city’s subsequent travel brochures. It was even featured in a promotional movie made about

the city.47

45 Burkholder, The Story Of Hamilton, box 1, file 2, Mabel Burkholder fonds, WRDARC.

46 Letter to C.V. Langs, Chairman of the Parks Board, from the Board of the UEL, regarding restorations to

Dundurn Castle, 24 August 1933, UEL fonds, HPL; Hamilton Spectator, “Dundurn Castle to Reopen;

Restored to Former Glory,” 25 June 1938. 47

The Ascension Bells Newsletter, 24 November 1946, box 1, file 3, Church of Ascension Fonds, Anglican

Diocese of Niagara Archives, McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario; C.W. Kirkpatrick, Commissioner

of Industries and Publicity, A Panorama of Beauty and Industry (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton Commission

of Industry and Publicity, 1937), Industrial Commissioner’s Records, RG-17, HRCH, HPL; A Panorama of

Beauty and Industry, 1951, Industrial Commissioner’s Records, RG-17, HRCH, HPL; Clark, Portrait of a

City.

190

Figure 7: Current photograph of Dundurn Castle as viewed from its front entrance, Hamilton, 2014. Source:

Author's collection.

Figure 8: Current photograph of Dundurn Castle as viewed from its back lawn, demonstrating its Italianate

influences. Hamilton, 2014. Source: Author's collection.

191

MacNab himself was transformed into a father of the Nation. Touted as “the only

Hamiltonian to become Prime Minister of Canada and the last influential member of the Family

Compact group to hold a dominating position in Canadian government,” MacNab was, said the

heritage activists, one of Hamilton’s own - even though he had been born in Scotland and his

children returned there after his death.48

His first great eulogizer was Thomas Melville Bailey.

Working first as a clerk and later as a minister, Bailey also made significant contributions to

writing down the city’s past, most notably in the Dictionary of Hamilton Biography, but also

through shorter works, including The History of Dundurn Castle and Sir Allan MacNab.49

As

revealed through the text itself and Bailey’s correspondence with the book’s illustrator, C.W.

Jefferys, MacNab and the Castle were symbols of Hamilton’s grand past, Loyalists, Scottish lords

and all. As Jefferys wrote to Bailey, “He is a colorful figure and well worth study as a typical

character of his time.”50

This cult of MacNab persisted through the Depression. In 1939,

Hamilton’s newly-published tourist guide advised visitors Dundurn Castle, for its history and

connections, was “of special interest to visitors.”51

An Ever Growing City: Canadianism, Britishness, and Racial Tolerance

As McMaster economist William Burton Hurd warned an assembled crowd of women at

a Women’s Canadian Club meeting in Hamilton in 1944, Canadians in general, and more settled

white Canadians in particular, were not having children fast enough to fulfill the needs of an

expanding country. Though the Depression had made such surplus populations unnecessary, after

the war immigration again became a reality confronting Hamiltonians. As Hurd put it,

48 Hamilton Spectator, “Dundurn Castle to Reopen; Restored to Former Glory,” 25 June 1938.

49Thomas Melville Bailey, editor, Dictionary of Hamilton Biography, volume 1 (Hamilton, Ontario:

Dictionary of Hamilton Biography, 1981); Thomas Melville Bailey, The History of Dundurn Castle and Sir

Allan MacNab (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton Board of Park Management, 1943). 50

Letter to T.M. Bailey, from C.W. Jefferys, regarding Sir Allan MacNab, 4 January 1943, box 1, file 1,

Charles W. Jeffferys collection, WRDARC. 51

Kirkpatrick, A Panorama of Beauty and Industry, 1937, Industrial Commissioner’s Records, RG-17,

HRCH, HPL.

192

In Central and Eastern Europe and in large sections of Asia, population increase

is still at a high level. Unregulated population growth inevitably leads to claims

for greater living space… They are… challenged by young countries like our

own who insist on the right to determine the type and number of settlers that are

permitted to enter. It is in such a world of conflicting interests that Canada must

determine her population policy for the years that lie ahead.52

The Labor News echoed these concerns, focusing more on immigrants’ economic woes than their

social adaptability. “If the authorities had heeded the protests time and time again by organized

labor, immigration would have been stopped a decade ago,” one editorial in the paper stated,

Canada’s foolish and short-sighted immigration policy has been costly to the

nation. Millions of dollars are being spent in relief for the workless, and in

addition, vast sums are being spent deporting many of the newcomers back to

their native land. It is to be hoped that the ‘powers-that-be’ in our federal and

provincial governments will exercise greater caution in future. It is un-Christian

and criminal to lure people to Canada when there is not enough employment to

go around.53

While the fear of “foreigners” taking jobs haunted many minds, so too did questions about what

Canada meant and what would become of its identity, both as an arm of Britain and its own

country, if this immigration continued at such high levels. Given Hamilton’s immigration

explosion after the First World War, immigrants were also a very visible part of the city and this

provoked many questions about what Hamilton was and should be.

In 1930, Lieutenant Colonel R.H. Webb, Mayor of Winnipeg, spoke to the Union of

Canadian Municipalities convention held in Hamilton that year. He warned Canadians that

without a distinct sense of Canadian nationalism, imports to the tune of “One and One-half billion

dollars” from the United States would continue to wreak havoc on the Canadian market.54

What

Canadians needed, he argued, was “one hour a day to be set aside for the teaching of Canadian

history. For knowledge of the Dominion – north, south, east, and west – was important to young

52 Introductory Remarks by William Burton Hurd at Panel Discussion on Immigration at Women's

Canadian Club, 15 November 1944, box 1, file 7, William Burton Hurd fonds, WRDARC. 53

Labor News, “Pilgrimage of Despair,” 21 December 1932. 54

Hamilton Spectator, “More Canadianism Needed, Webb Says,” 10 September 1930.

193

and old.”55

Its heritage and its sprawling territories were Canada’s unifying strengths. “Do not,”

he cautioned the assembled mayors, “permit the United States to take your national heritage from

you, as she surely will if you but let her.”56

Although Hamilton’s dominant political groups treasured the Empire, many among them

also perceived, sometimes hazily, a Canada with its own national identity. As Ottawa-based

Maclean’s political writer Grattan O’Leary reflected in the magazine’s Canadian Diamond

Jubilee issue in 1937, 70 years on from Confederation there was no sense of what Canada was.

He encouraged Canadians to find one. “Our task,” he wrote, “is to build a Canadian personality

existing by and through itself and for its own sake and aims; deriving its strength and its growth

from Canada’s own soil and history.”57

It should not be surprising that Hamilton, home to the

Canadian Club, was suffused with such nation-building ideas. “We would not,” posited a

Spectator editorial,

like to think that the term ‘Canadian’ was ever regarded as one of convenience.

But we do think it has been frequently abused. The major abusers are those who

give away [to] an acute inferiority complex by comparing unfavourably

everything Canadian to the institutions, culture, and development of larger

nations, and those who shout about a vague sort of nationalism.58

However, the editor’s own sense of nationalism was evidently as vague, as he wrote for his grand

conclusion, “When the Dominion has faced a crisis, its people, in spite of economic and political

divisions have demonstrated a remarkable unity.”59

But who were these people, and what values

were they united around or against?

Immigrants were frequently used as examples of the unCanadian “Other.” According to

Hamilton’s historical image-shapers, Canadians were law-abiding, loyal to the empire, brave,

honest, and always at the ready to be of service. The view that some immigrants were not fit for

55 Ibid.

56 Ibid.

57 M. Grattan O’Leary, “Three Score Years and Ten,” Maclean’s, 1 July 1937.

58 Hamilton Spectator, “Canadianism,” 5 January 1938.

59 Ibid.

194

this lifestyle was persistently expressed in Hamilton’s press. How, many writers pondered, could

you make someone Canadian when being Canadian was so deeply tied to British institutions? The

Spectator confronted this issue head on after the Bishop of Saskatchewan spoke out against

Central European immigrants as “a very great menace to Canadian nationality.”60

While in its

editorial on the subject the Spectator “admitted that these people, with all their faults, have done

and are doing a useful pioneering work in Canada,” it also wondered if there might not be some

better way to make them Canadian:

Their habits, in many cases, are primitive; their obstinacy in refusing to adopt

better standards of living and to take advantage of the cultural opportunities

offered them, may be deplorable and disquieting, but is one to give the matter

up as a bad job, to confess that the situation is irredeemable, and that the only

thing to be done is to make sure that no further increase in the number of these

immigrants if permitted?... The alternative is to find out just where the trouble

lies, why it is that sections of the foreign-born remain aloof and

unapproachable, bent on keeping to themselves and remaining indifferent to

Canadian institutions?61

The Spectator and programs like Empire Day suggested that the best way to start was through

educating children to be Canadians and citizens of the Empire. It was thought that these foreign-

born European immigrants would be grateful for their chance to start again in Canada and would

“bring up their children in such a way that they will fit in with Canadian life, deriving fullest

advantage from the splendid services offered to them in the way of educational and cultural

facilities and doing their part faithfully to make the country better.”62

Citizenship lessons in

schools, sports groups, and playground programs were all intended to help in this program of

making good citizens, in case immigrant parents could not or would not.

One writer who identified himself only by the word “Italian” argued these efforts were

felt to be necessary to integrate children and Canadianize them, as often immigrant parents

lacked the money, time, and effort to do so themselves. He chided the City Magistrate, who had

60 Hamilton Spectator, “New Canadians,” 5 May 1930.

61 Ibid.

62 Hamilton Spectator, “Foreign-Born Pupils,” 7 April 1931.

195

pinned blame for rising crime on Italians in the city, for not doing more himself: “His Worship,

instead of pointing the finger of scorn, and tongue-lashing these poor victims of circumstances

really beyond their control, should be able, in his official capacity, to assist greatly in the work of

Canadianizing these Italians.”63

By “tak[ing] away the glamour that surrounds an Italian

bookmaker or bootlegger,” the police, schools, and city could help integrate Italians into the

Canadian way of life, argued “Italian.”64

Certainly the luxurious life of Rocco Perri, Hamilton’s

“self-styled king of the bootleggers,” who had bought his way in to Hamilton’s most socially elite

neighbourhood if not into his neighbours’ social circles, provided a poor example for how Italians

could achieve success in the city.65

Hamilton’s advantageous position for shipping was equally

helpful in Perri’s rise to become one of Hamilton’s richest men and Canada’s most successful

bootleggers. The Italo-Canadian Liberal Club wrote to Mitchell Hepburn begging him to remove

the liquor license for the Marconi Club, another Italian organization in the city. They claimed this

den of gambling and drinking was “a dishonour to the Italian Colony” and further “detrimental to

the morals of the youth,” “the cause of many family arguments,” and “operated for the private

gain of one individual.”66

It thereby exerted a detrimental influence on the (otherwise respectable)

Italian community.

Not all immigrants could be redeemed. As the Japanese economy saw a depression of its

own and more Japanese people migrated to South America, with the doors of North America now

firmly shut, the Spectator reflected that South American countries should act quickly to ensure it

was in their interests to accept Japanese immigrants:

Canada and the United States have had difficulties over the problem of oriental

immigration… it is a matter of a different standard of living. Orientals can live

more cheaply than other people and so their competition is a one-sided, cut-

63 Hamilton Spectator, “New Canadians,” 7 March 1936.

64 Ibid.

65 Hamilton Spectator, “Strange Scenes When Mrs. Perri is Laid to Rest,” 18 August 1930.

66 Letter to Mitchell Hepburn from the Italo-Canadian Liberal Club of Hamilton, against the granting of a

liquor permit to the Marconi Club, 27 August 1934, RG-3-9-0-88, Mitchell Hepburn General

Correspondence fonds, AofO.

196

throat business… We cannot see anything else but difficulties ahead of the

parties concerned. When cheaply made goods are dumped into the country, you

can put up a tariff to keep them out, but you can’t put a tariff around a cut-rate

business in your own country.67

As Hamilton’s census from 1931 demonstrated, the population of Asian people in the city was

negligible, numbering fewer than 650 people for all groups combined.68

These discussions of integration reflected the immigrants’ new visibility in interwar

Hamilton. By 1931, Hamilton had seen significant population growth. Much of it came from non-

British immigrants, which then made up 20% of the city’s population. In a population of 155,547

this included over 5,217 Italians, 4, 356 Germans, and 4,326 Poles.69

There were also over 2,000

Hungarians, French (including both French-Canadians and recent French immigrants), Dutch

people, “Hebrews,” and over 1,000 Ukrainians and “Roumanians.”70

Hamilton’s population still

officially included fewer than 1,500 people of so-called “colored stock,” whose numbers had not

shown significant growth over past censuses.71

While British immigrants were welcomed to the city by the British Dominion

Immigration society, an organization of “Old Country origin and under distinguished British

patronage,” other immigrant groups were left to their own devices.72

Especially as the Depression

67 Hamilton Spectator, “Oriental Immigration,” 22 March 1936.

68 Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Cross-Classification, 900-912. This fear of the

absent Asian other was not unique to Hamilton, Ontario. Anti-Oriental legislation sprang up across the

country though, with the exception of on the West Coast, very few Asian immigrants would have been

visibly present. Patricia E. Roy, The Oriental Question: Consolidating a White Man’s Province, 1914-41

(Vancouver: University of British Columbia, 2011),1-13, 42-4; James W. St. G. Walker, “Race,” Rights,

and the Law in the Supreme Court of Canada (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1997), 51-122;

Peter Ward, White Canada Forever: Popular Attitudes and Public Policy Towards Orientals in British

Columbia (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s Press, 2002), ix-x, xiii-xvii; Henry Yu, Thinking

Orientals: Migration, Contact, and Exoticism in Modern America (Cambridge, England: Oxford University

Press, 2001), 31-35. 69

Hurd, Census of Canada, 1931: Racial Origins and Nativity of the Canadian People, 204-5. 70

The classification of Hebrew people by the census rules included all people who identified their religion

as Jewish, and was seen as a separate ethnic heritage than national identifiers. Unlike all other European

census categories it included cultural heritage rather than geographic origins. Similarly being of “coloured

stock” removed geographical origin designators as well, since their culture was correlated with their

“colour,” not their geographic origin, by 1931 Origin Classification rules. Ibid., 32-34. 71

This included 393 Chinese, 2 Japanese, 256 “other” Asiatic races, 329 aboriginal people (“Indian” under

census classifications, and 337 Afro-Canadians (“Negros”). Ibid., 204-5. 72

Hamilton Spectator, “British Settlers,” 8 February 1930.

197

set in, with even British immigrants feeling discouraged and unwelcome due to the scarcity of

jobs, many in the city questioned how immigrants would blend in.73

As the Spectator remarked

regarding the preferred British immigrants,

Canada has an employment problem of its own and it is not surprising the

Labour interests should be alarmed at the prospect of complicating that problem

by adding to the number of those for whom suitable work must be found. If it is

argued that the settlers would be farmers of British stock who would not

compete in the industrial market, we have to take into consideration the fact that

Canadian agriculturalists are no more disposed to welcome the newcomers than

are Labour unions. The Dominion already suffers from overproduction, so how

can matters be improved by bringing more land under cultivation?74

British Hamiltonians were concerned about what ongoing immigration would mean for their own

chances at finding work. As Census data suggested and the CPC confirmed in its own study of the

district’s labour situation, employment discrimination was a reality in the city and foreign

workers were among the first fired and most oppressed.75

Fears of the results of continued immigration were fed by a handful of Hamilton’s nativist

groups. In spite of repeated criminal cases, mostly under section 464, sub-section C, which

pertained to the wearing of a mask or otherwise obscuring one’s face “without lawful excuse,”

Hamilton experienced a Ku Klux Klan presence well into the 1930s.76

As the group worked

consciously to conceal the identity of its members and no records survive for Hamilton’s

organization, it is difficult to determine its size. However, the group, seeking a venue for a

demonstration, was large enough in 1930 to request the use of Stewart Park, a sizeable field used

73 Hamilton Spectator, “Immigration,” 18 October 1931.

74 Ibid.

75 Hurd, Census of Canada, 1931: Racial Origins and Nativity of the Canadian People, 204-5; Trade Union

Report to the Industrial Department of the CPC, 1930, box 51, file 22, CPC Fonds, LAC. 76

Hamilton Spectator, “Four Hamilton Men Summoned by the Crown,” 7 March 1930. While Hamilton

was not the only Canadian city, or even city in Ontario, with an active Klan branch at the time, its

membership was estimated at between 500 and 1,000, which is notably large for an urban centre in Ontario

at this time. Adrienne Shadd, From Tollgate to Parkway: African Canadians in Hamilton (Toronto: Natural

Heritage Books, 2010), 212-219. See also: Backhouse, Colour-Coded, 175-6, 181-193. The Klan grew

more quickly and remained more popular in the Western provinces, where the populism associated with it

was more popular. James M. Pitsula, Keeping Canada British: The Ku Klux Klan in 1920s Saskatchewan

(Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2013); Martin Robin, Shades of Right: Nativist and

Fascist Politics in Canada, 1920-1940 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992), 10-15.

198

by unions, fraternal organizations, and churches for picnics and outdoor gatherings.77

Their

request was refused, in spite of objections that it was discriminatory to do so, partly because the

city’s by-laws restricted the use of public lands for “demonstrations” and partly because of the

secrecy of the organization. Thomas McQuesten, then Parks Board chair, “remark[ed] that the

societies [that used public parks] should first be known to the members of the board.”78

KKK

supporters became notorious. In one outing, they hauled a white woman out of the house of an

alleged “negro… [though] he issued a statement to the press in which he claimed to be of Indian

extraction and not a negro.”79

While the KKK operated on the fringes, the Orange Order demonstrated that some level

of discrimination could be easily integrated into the rhetoric of defending Empire and Canadian

virtues. The Orange Order had filled a void when mid-nineteenth century Irish immigrants had

arrived in Canada seeking community and a taste of home.80

It had served as an important

organizing body for these early immigrants and thus had persisted as a popular social, and

political, organization into the twentieth century. The Hamilton Lodge actively passed resolutions

77 Hamilton Spectator, “Klan Will Be Asked to Give More Details,” 16 September 1930.

78 Ibid.

79 Hamilton Spectator, “Four Hamilton Men Summoned by the Crown,” 7 March 1930. A new branch of

the organization was formed in the area prompting David Robinson, a Jewish politician who was well-

involved in a number of charitable and society organizations in the city, to write to the Attorney General of

Ontario on the issue: “I am convinced that neither the Government nor yourself would desire to permit the

existence of an organization which, regarding its expressed objects, would be instrumental in the spreading

of bad will between the various religious groups of the Province. The history of the Ku Klux Klan has

shown a flagrant disregard of the laws of the land and frequent attempts to stir up hatred and animosity

between various groups.” Letter to Hon. W.H. Price, Esq., KC, Attorney-General, Province of Ontario from

David A Robinson regarding the authorization of the formation of the Knights of Lionhearted as a branch

of Ku Klux Klan, 5 August 1933, box 1, file 3, David Alkin Robinson fonds, WRDARC. 80

Kealey, Toronto Workers Respond to Industrial Capitalism, 1867-1892, Chapter Seven. Cecil J. Houston

and William J. Smyth’s explored the history of the Orange Order’s geographical patterns of establishment,

agreeing with Kealey’s assessment that it gained most of its strength in areas that had seen big, repeated

waves of British Migration, such as Hamilton. Cecil J. Houston and William J. Smyth, The Sash Canada

Wore: A Historical Geography of the Orange Order in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,

1980). For more on the Orange Order in Canada see Robert McLaughlin, “Orange-Canadian Unionists and

the Irish Home Rule Crisis, 1912-1914,” Ontario History, 98, no. 1 (Spring 2006), 68-101; J.R. Miller,

“Anti-Catholicism in Canada: From the British Conquest to the Great War,” in Creed and Culture: The

Place of English-Speaking Catholics in Canadian Society, 1750-1930, Terrence Murphy and Gerald Stortz,

eds. (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1993); David. A. Wilson, ed., The Orange

Order in Canada (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2007).

199

favouring Anglo-Protestant domination. This was made implicit through its policies, such as one

in 1931 “to make it necessary for every voter in the country to subscribe to a declaration that he

believes in a Deity, professes allegiance to the King, and is able to read and write the English

language.”81

Orangeism’s historic anti-Catholicism was hinted at when some members chastised

alleged Orange Lodge member and former Ontario Premier George Ferguson for visiting the

Pope.82

Yet once-fiery anti-papal parades had evolved to become something more of a

transnational family affair including a sports day, picnic, parade, and speeches, drawing crowds

from across Canada and the northern United States all intent on waving “the orange lily on the

‘glorious twelfth.’”83

Up to 10,000 members marched through the city throughout the 1930s, with

the acceptance and gracious welcome of city officials. The Spectator claimed that the Order had

as much value in the 1930s as the 1700s:

It has a contemporary duty to fulfill. It is the vigilant watchdog of British

institutions, giving prompt and aggressive warning wherever it fancies those

institutions in any way menaced... The emphasis has been transferred from the

religious to the social fields. Communism in all its forms and every shade of

color is anathema to these staunch upholders of the Commonwealth.84

Questions of racial tolerance in Hamilton arose more routinely than a focus on

Klansmens’ arrests and Orange Order parades might suggest. While it is difficult to trace

individual instances of discrimination, some were significant enough to come to public attention.

In one such case, an enraged parent wrote to the Spectator after their son was refused entry to the

civic pool, though racial discrimination was not explicitly a part of city policy for the facility.

“Why are they drawing the color line there is more than I can understand. I thought this bathing

pool was for all nations but why are they keeping the colored children out?”85

While the Spectator

81 Hamilton Spectator, “Action Against Communism Urged,” 16 June 1931. Loyal Orange Lodge parades

were held in the city until 1962 when Victor Copps, Hamilton’s first Catholic mayor, had them abolished. 82

Ibid. 83

Hamilton Spectator, “Many Visitors for ‘Glorious Twelfth’,” 10 July 1932; Hamilton Spectator,

“Orangemen Observe Boyne Anniversary,” 12 July 1933. 84

Hamilton Spectator, “‘Glorious Twelfth,’” 12 July 1933. 85

B.G., letter to the editor, “Color Line at the Pool?” Hamilton Spectator, 2 April 1930.

200

and city officials formally preached inclusion, the reality was pervasive discrimination.86

Racist

industrial hiring practices, separate churches, restaurants and theatres, and the firm economic

settlement patterns of the city’s neighbourhoods ensured that African-Canadian Hamiltonians

remained physically separate from much of the city’s white, Anglo population.87

Similarly, though the Spectator wrote that the city, unlike uncivilized Germany, had

moved beyond anti-Semitism, David Robinson, a Jewish politician, philanthropist, businessman,

and chairman of the Anti-Defamation and Anti-Discrimination Committee of the Canadian

Conference of B’nai B’rith, still had to exert himself on behalf of fellow synagogue members

who continued to face discrimination in the city.88

In June 1937 he wrote to both the city and the

Hamilton Review when four Jewish tennis club members were not allowed to renew their

membership on the basis of their race. It was part of a broader pattern, he claimed. As he wrote in

the Hamilton Review,

Those who resort to race prejudice are the most insufferable cads but ashamed

to have any one know it. Ostracism of a person because he is a member of this,

that, or what race can seldom be justified but almost always it springs from a

sense of smugness and superiority. As most of us know, smug and superior

persons are usually offensive persons – in a word, shallow snobs, reeking with

rotten pride.89

Robinson worked against anti-Semitism using his connections within the Conservative Party.

McMaster’s arrival in 1929 brought with it well-trained sociologists, economists and

geographers who made it their business to study the city. Much like Hurd, economist J. W.

Watson began to work on the issue of immigration, publishing the results of his inquiries in a

86 Hamilton Spectator, “Tolerance and Unity,” 26 September 1936.

87 For more detail on the experience of African Canadians in Hamilton see Shadd, From Tollgate to

Parkway. According to Economist J. W. Watson, Hamilton’s African-Canadian population lived in two

very concentrated pockets in the city’s downtown in the 1930s. These neighbourhoods were bordered by

immigrant populations including its Jewish, Italian, and Chinese neighbourhoods. They had been

established in the earlier first wave of migration to the city and thus were relatively more southerly and

central than the neighbourhoods inhabited by more recent Scandinavian, Hungarian, and Polish immigrants.

Watson, “Urban Developments in the Niagara Peninsula,” 485, box 10, file 1, J. Wreford Watson fonds,

WRDARC. 88

Hamilton Spectator, “Anti-Semitism,” 8 November 1937. 89

Draft of letter, “Who are the Snobs?,” to the Hamilton Review by David A. Robinson, 4 June 1937, box

1, file 3, David A. Robinson fonds, WRDARC.

201

Hamilton-focused article for the Canadian Journal of Economic and Political Science entitled

“Urban Developments in the Niagara Peninsula.”90

Included in this article is an invaluable map

which lays out the geographic regions of the city where different ethnic groups settled in

enclaves.91

These quite-concentrated enclaves were located north of Main Street, mostly around

its industrial regions, and also downtown. They were far from the newly expanding suburbs and

established wealthy neighbourhoods which were located at the base of the Escarpment. The most

revealing observation Watson made for the historian was his statement that “regions of social

disintegration [within the city] correspond very closely to the foreign-born populations of

Hamilton and… much social discord can be traced directly to cultural conflict.”92

Poverty,

alienated youth, and traffic congestion all marked out this neighbourhood, with its conspicuous

population of immigrants.93

“The churches and clubs, though not unwilling to receive them, have

not worked out a plan to assimilate them,” he remarked, “They are therefore tempted to seek out

their diversions in commercialized and ‘crowd’ recreation, where they have very little

opportunity to contribute to the cultural growth of the city.”94

Largely excluded from the city’s Anglo-centric social strata, the city’s immigrants relied

largely upon themselves for solidarity, charity, and fraternity. Beginning in 1926, Hamilton’s

increasingly established Italian population, along with other Italian communities across Ontario,

founded the Order of the Sons of Italy, intended

to unite in one sole family those citizens of Italian origin who are living in

Ontario and who… are morally fit, and who are respectful of constituted

government and of every and all religious and political opinion; to promote the

moral, intellectual, and material welfare and progress of the members of the

association, emancipating them from prejudices and superstition… and to this

purpose prepare and assist its member in applying for Canadian citizenship.95

90 Watson, “Urban Developments in the Niagara Peninsula,” 463-86, box 10, file 1, J. Wreford Watson

fonds, WRDARC. 91

Ibid., 485. 92

Ibid., 484. 93

Ibid., 481-5. 94

Ibid., 481. 95

Hamilton Spectator, “Sons of Italy Assembled Here,” 26 May 1930.

202

This benevolent order provided Italian Hamiltonians with their own society through which they

could acknowledge their heritage, distribute charity to community members, and work towards

successfully integrating into Canadian society.96

The Sons of Italy, along with ethnically

designated churches like the United Church’s multi-lingual All People’s Mission, provided some

non-British Hamiltonian immigrants with a space to recognize their cultural heritage.97

The

Chinese community of Hamilton, though smaller, less well-off and more dispersed through the

city than its Italian counterparts, demonstrated a similar sense of community, which was

especially visible as the city’s population rallied around families back in China through

fundraising efforts.98

Hamilton’s relatively calm ethnic scene was transformed by the war. Members of well-

established and numerous immigrant groups – namely Austrians, Eastern Europeans, Italians, and

Germans – were transformed into enemy aliens. In 1939 Germans were beginning to be singled

out for exclusion. Oktoberfest was cancelled in Kitchener, and Austrian immigrants to Hamilton

started receiving telephone “threats [that] have resulted from race hatreds arising from the present

96 Hamilton Spectator, “Man Who Helped Neighbours Still in Death,” 27 November 1936. The struggle to

provide equal charity to immigrants was openly discussed following the death of Zigmond Tokos. The

Hungarian, lacking insurance and good business at his butcher shop, had a pauper’s funeral, in spite of the

dramatic and public nature of his death in a train crash. His wife noted that the Hungarian community had

to help one another and that the only assistance she expected to receive was from the Hungarian

Presbyterian Church. 97

Minutes of the All Peoples Assisting board, 1947-1954, 14 January 1949, box 3, file 2 All People’s

Mission fonds, UCCA. The All People’s Mission was founded by Anglo United Church members both

from within the city and the Church’s extended missionary circle with an explicit evangelizing and

civilizing mission. Notwithstanding its undoubtedly assimilationist bias, it provided a meeting place for

recent immigrants where they were able to attend services, socials, and cultural heritage nights in their own

native languages. This service was important for many immigrant groups, especially for ones that were too

small to form their own native-language churches in Hamilton as Italian, Polish, and German immigrant

groups had been able to in this period. Carmela Patrias argues in the Hungarian case that “despite the

assimilationist goals of the churches,” through encouraging the preservation of cultural heritage and

language as part of their mission, they “were among the most important agencies for the preservation of

Hungarian ethnic identity in Canada during the years between the world wars.” Carmela Patrias, Patriots

and Proletarians: Politicizing Hungarian Immigrants in Interwar Canada (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-

Queen’s University Press, 1994), 132. 98

Hamilton Spectator, “Day of Remembrance Bitter for Chinese of Hamilton,” 11 November 1937;

Hamilton Spectator, “Chinese Forward Cheque to Help Red Cross Drive,” 29 November 1939.

203

European situation.”99

The family that finally reported the calls to the authorities “were afraid to

tell the police for fear of reprisals.”100

Even the city’s Polish immigrants felt threatened, with one

Polish-Canadian writing to the Spectator to protest against his country and its citizens getting

lumped with either hostile Germany or the Communist Soviet Union. “The Writer is a Polish-

Canadian,” J.K Fils implored the city’s press, “I have a great love of this county and our city,

which gave me an opportunity that I did not have during pre-war times; but what I cannot

understand is why any one should throw mud at a Country which is a Canadian Ally through

Great Britain.”101

It often seemed that although immigrants could come to Hamilton, they could

not become Hamiltonians.

The Othering of Politics: Communism and Extremism

The CPC in Hamilton in the 1930s was a slowly growing political entity, fed largely by

immigration and to some extent industrial recruitment. The CPC in Hamilton, as in other parts of

the country, was extremely secretive, and, though large for a CPC branch, represented a small

part of the population of Hamilton and the surrounding areas, numbering only 500 members

across the region during this period.102

The party regularly drew between 100 and 200 voters.

Meetings held explicitly by the party drew around 200 people, though the police made it known

that at any time, likely up to 20 of the men present might well be police officers.103

The CPC

experienced some success in recruiting recent immigrants to the city, but much less in building a

base among industrial workers and unemployed men. It largely remained a liminal group in the

99 Hamilton Spectator, “Austrian Family Receive Threats,” 26 August 1939.

100 Ibid.

101J.K. Fils, letter to the editor, “Claims Poland Misrepresented,” Hamilton Spectator, 11 April 1939.

102 Archibald, 6-10. Archibald’s analysis of Hamilton’s working classes agrees with my findings on the

city’s middle-class and political organizing bodies. In line with the core argument of this thesis, Archibald

found that the traditional historical view that the Depression radicalized workers and increased dissent did

not hold true in Hamilton. 103

Hamilton Spectator, “Communists Met,” 2 August 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Communists Met,” 11

June 1934; Hamilton Spectator, “Crisis Nearing, Communists Say,” 5 November 1934; Hamilton

Spectator, “Red Meeting Demand Again is Coming Up,” 21 September 1936.

204

city, seen as an outside problem by its administrators, police, and press. This perception of

otherness was compounded by the party’s ethnic composition. It drew heavily from more recent

Eastern European immigrant workers. It was also hindered in Hamilton by its close ties with the

Toronto party. Many of the most public organizers involved in identifiable Communist activity in

the city were from Toronto, so its actions were often portrayed by the mainstream press as

instances of infiltration by foreign radicals. Communists, like Italian mobsters, were “in

Hamilton.” They were not, in the eyes of the dominant elite, “of Hamilton.”

While the CPC saw limited growth in the city and area – part of its District Three – its

major gains came about through labour organizations and immigration. Party leaders found

Hamilton a frustrating combination of great potential and very limited accomplishment. While the

CPC supported strikes in the city and worked with its burgeoning unions, and some workers were

initially receptive to the party, the results of such strike support were meagre. For example, in a

strike at National Steel Car in 1930, the party and its labour operatives claimed full responsibility

for radicalizing and supporting the strikers, whose wages had been cut during the Depression.104

Initially, the Party declared itself confident that the strike would turn the factory’s workers in

their favour, especially since “the majority of the workers on strike were immigrant workers,

many of them recent arrivals in Canada.”105

However, as the strike progressed workers who

affiliated themselves with the National Steel Car Workers’ Industrial Union, which later became

the Steel Workers’ Industrial Union organized under the auspices of the Workers’ Unity League

(WUL), dwindled from 800 members at the height of the strike to a number that by the end of the

year, “does not exceed 100.”106

The party was frustrated by a combination of “brutal police

repression and court intimidation” and a blacklisting campaign by National Steel Car

104 Trade Union Report to the Industrial Department of the Communist Party of Canada, 1930, box 51, file

22, CPC Fonds, LAC. 105

Ibid. 106

Ibid.

205

Corporation, “aided by the municipal authorities and the Reformist Trades and Labor Council

(A.F. of L.).”107

District Three remained an enigmatic problem for the CPC. 108

Furthermore, despite a growing number of immigrants from Eastern Europe throughout

the 1930s, many of them were not consistently interested in party organizing. They seemed to be

“oriented entirely towards the cultural work and played no role in the leadership and direction of

the fighting Ukrainian workers.”109

This difficulty in recruiting domestic Anglo- and Franco-

Canadians, especially as active party members, had plagued the party since its inception. Even

prior to the Depression one of the party’s primary aims had been an “increase [in] activity for

recruits and an increase in the numbers of Anglo-Saxon workers; active recruiting and the

establishment of Communist influence amongst French-Canadian workers; combined with…

recruiting amongst new streams of immigration from Great Britain.”110

The growth of the party in

non-English populations had led to some splintering due to linguistic and cultural divisions. As

Tim Buck proclaimed in 1929, “every effort possible should be made to break down [this]

isolation that now exists.”111

A report from the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) on “alleged

seditious teaching” at two meetings addressed by Buck in Port Dover and Delhi in March 1938

spoke volumes to this perception. The Port Dover meeting, hosted by “one Mr. Stewart… [who]

had acted as Chairman for the Conservative Party” was allegedly well-attended, with 125 there in

the much smaller town. Yet Buck, said the report, was poorly received by an audience of “well

dressed [people of] the white collar class” to whom Buck “appeared to be practically

107 Ibid.

108 Report of the Political Secretariat at the Sixth National Convention, Toronto, June 1929, box 11, file 26,

Tim Buck Fonds, LAC; Second Draft of “The Resolution on the Canadian Question,” Sixth Plenum,

February 1931, box 11, file 35, Tim Buck Fonds, LAC; “The Road To Unite: Representative from Southern

Ontario,” Towards a Canadian People’s Front: Reports and Speeches from the Ninth Plenum of the Central

Committee, November 1935, box 11, file 39, Tim Buck Fonds, LAC. 109

Circular Letter to the Ukrainian Labor- Farmer Temple Association from the Political Committee of the

Communist Party of Canada, “For a United Communist Party in Canada Against All Right Wing

Opportunist Deviations,” 1936, box 10, file 12, Tim Buck Fonds, LAC. 110

Report of the Political Secretariat at the Sixth National Convention, Toronto, June 1929, box 11, file 26,

Tim Buck Fonds, LAC. 111

Resolution of the Sixth National Convention of the CP of C on the Letter from the Women’s Secretariat

of the CI on Women’s Work, Toronto, June 1929, box 11, file 26, Tim Buck Fonds, LAC.

206

unknown.”112

The officer writing the report, W.R. Waverly, reported generally positively on the

meeting and felt that no one there was radical or convinced by Buck’s message. His mood was

quite the opposite following the next meeting in Delhi, a primarily farming community south of

Hamilton and a magnet for itinerant tobacco workers, many of them based part-time in the city.

The town had “several different groups of Communists, Polish, Belgian, Slovakian, Etc., each

faction being a group by themselves.”113

Many of these Communists were like the young man the

officer drove to the meeting, who “was of foreign parentage [and] speaks several foreign

languages.” While the officer admitted that most of those present did not speak English, so “no

doubt a large percentage of those present did not know what he was talking about,” Buck seemed

pleased with the strong show of support and announced he was planning further meetings.114

As part of their attempts to mobilize the unemployed, Hamilton and Toronto’s

Communists helped organized a number of demonstrations of the unemployed in the city over the

course of the Depression. Some, such as a May Day 1932 protest, were not openly associated

with Communists, though they claimed responsibility in their own publications such as the

Canadian Labor Defender, which described it as a day of “Class Struggle and Terror in

Hamilton,” complete with a full page spread of pictures of the demonstration and police arresting

demonstrators.115

Others featured Communists prominently and openly, as when Dave Arnott,

who ran for MP as a Communist in Wentworth County in 1935, spoke at an illegal tag day in

June 1935 for the unemployed in front of City Hall, along with other Communists and members

of “Workers’ Protective associations.”116

Arrests and police repression, as described in the Labor

Defender, were not uncommon at such Hamilton events. Depression-era conditions and

112 Ontario Provincial Police Report to W.E. Kelly, Ontario Crown Attorney, 31 March 1939, Box 1, File 1,

Tim Buck Fonds, WRDARC. 113

Ibid. This assessment was reinforced by the variety of groups who wrote to Mitchell Hepburn in support

of Tim Buck’s release from prison. They included petitions from the Yugoslav and Hungarian Workers

Clubs, which numbered 30 and 254 members respectively. File, “Resolutions Regarding Tim Buck,” RG 3-

9-0-89, Mitchell Hepburn General Correspondence fonds, AofO. 114

Ibid. 115

Canadian Labor Defender, “Class Struggle and Terror in Hamilton,” July 1932. 116

Hamilton Herald, “Selling Tags May Mean Jail for Jobless,” 7 June 1935.

207

legislation - laws against vagrancy and Section 98 - made wholesale arrests of activists easy. As

the chief of police told the Herald before that march, the city’s Barton Street Jail had already been

preparing for overflow, given that the jail could only hold 200 people and 600 were expected.117

The police had previously arrested eight protestors in a November 1930 demonstration, and five

more in a similar October 1932 one.118

Due to arrests and municipal laws preventing vagrants

from receiving relief, the CPC described the work of organizing the unemployed in any consistent

way as “somewhat hard.”119

Elite Hamilton’s perceptions of Communism were largely shaped by reports of it from

outside the city. Though the CPC had a presence in the city, the Toronto CPC was larger, and

thus was much more active. It was also often host to national assemblies and larger, more public

meetings than Hamilton experienced. It was thus often the source of the Spectator’s more fearful

stories of Canadian Communism. From tear bombs to mobs, riots to wild women, Toronto,

especially prior to the repeal of Section 98, was portrayed as the venue of the most unsavoury and

dangerous CPC plots.120

While the police in the city struggled to “combat the red menace,”

Hamilton’s press emphasized the message that Communists were violent and lawless.121

While

the Herald was somewhat more sympathetic to progressive social causes, it called on its readers

to “think instead of the circumstances which create sympathy for the ‘red’ cause,” suggesting that

it could kill them with kindness towards their fellow man rather than “red-baiting.”122

Communists were a Toronto problem, and when they were a Hamilton problem, it was usually

because of Toronto Communists, like Annie Buller, who was described as heading the November

117 Ibid.

118 Hamilton Spectator, “Five Leaders of Parade in Court Today,” 1 November 1932; Hamilton Spectator,

“Police Clash with Unemployed Parade,” 7 November 1930. 119

Trade Union Report to the Industrial Department of the Communist Party of Canada, 1930, box 51, file

22, CPC Fonds, LAC. 120

Hamilton Spectator, “Tear Bomb Thrown at Communists’ Meeting,” 23 January 1929; Hamilton

Spectator, “Communists in Toronto Stage Riot in Street,” 22 July 1929; Hamilton Spectator, “Feminine

Reds Cause Disorder,” 29 July 1929. 121

Hamilton Spectator, “Police Chiefs to Combat Red Menace,” 31 June 1930. 122

Hamilton Herald, editorial, “Big ‘Red’ Wolf,” 2 August 1934; Hamilton Herald, editorial, “The

Unreasonable ‘Reds,’” 23 January 1929.

208

1930 protest in the city. “One of Toronto’s Communistic figures,” she was accused of “shout[ing]

an impassioned tirade against the capitalists,” launching “a verbal attack on the Conservative

party,” and “calling for unity of the unemployed.”123

The perception of Communism was that it

was a tendency exacerbated by outsiders. This belief was strengthened by militant struggles in

nearby Stratford. Again the Spectator repeated statements from old labour organizations and

established politicians who blamed the rioting and violence on the WUL, an organization known

to have “red” ties.124

Communism, from this perspective, was not seen as a native Canadian ideology. It was

viewed as being separate from the natural order of things in the politics, the city, and the nation.

Part of the perception that communism was a foreign ideology was based on the perceived

successes of Communists in the Soviet Union, who were seen as making the country even more

foreign. Not a week went by when some story on the front page did not speak of Communist

dangers, from Montreal to Manchuria to Moscow. The Spectator and Herald always portrayed

Communists as bizarre and incomprehensible, even when events paralleled those close to home.

For example, on 3 March 1930 an article about a local Ukrainian organization protesting the

Soviet Union featured the author’s own reflections on the Soviet’s ongoing repression.125

Another

article reprinted from the London Times described the strange things Soviets were taught about

123 Hamilton Spectator, “Police Clash with Unemployed Parade,” 7 November 1930.

124 Hamilton Spectator, “Rioting Breaks out Again in Stratford,” 26 September 1933; Hamilton Spectator,

“Says Unity League Red Organization,” 2 October 1933; Hamilton Herald, “The Reds and the Unions,” 3

October 1933; Hamilton Herald, “Is Stratford Red?,” 4 October 1933. While the Herald was generally more

sympathetic to left-wing politics and labour organizing, these sympathies did not extend to the so-called

extremism of Communists. They were framed as infiltrators, disrupting the virtuous labour movement.

“Incitement to riot can never be regarded as legitimate means of propaganda nor as the best way of

bringing about a desire reform… The hasty and impatient agitators, whether they be the Communists of

New York or the Ghandhists of India, always forget that Rome was not built in a day, and they throw

themselves with unthinking fury into movements which retard rather than advance their aims,” read a 1930

editorial, “Unsettled problems should be threshed out and a solution agreed upon before a Revolution is

possible.” Hamilton Herald, “Lawless Communism,” 22 April 1930. 125

Hamilton Spectator, “Protest Soviet Persecutions,” 3 March 1930.

209

Great Britain and Canada, creating an exotic and incomprehensible image of Soviet schools.126

This orientalised image of the Soviet Union – hardly unique to the Spectator, since the

mainstream press in Canada was following a very similar path – separated “Communism” from

“Canada.”127

The Spectator and the Herald both covered Communism abroad, but also debated what it

would look like if it were ever implemented at home. Communism, they concluded, was not

suited to Canada. As the more reform-minded Herald wrote, Communism was not to be trusted:

“It is but rarely that the man or woman who is willing to work is found in the ranks of the

revolutionists… Ignorance of the Worst description spurred on by the anti-social instincts of

undeveloped character is largely responsible for these terrible happenings.”128

Before her Board

of Control run silenced her column, Henderson used it to proclaim: “The Communists hate all

advocates of parliamentary reform – reform by sane, evolutionary methods – by vote of the

people and by legislative action of the people’s representatives… There is a combined front

against Communist doctrines by all three Canadian political parties.”129

While the Herald

professed itself to be sympathetic to some of the Reds’ causes, it believed the solution to the

social crisis they publicized lay in Parliament.130

126 Hamilton Spectator, “What Russian Children Learn About Great Britain and the Canadians Under Red

Regime,” 1933. 127

For more on Western images of the Soviet Union: James William Crowl, Angels in Stalin’s Paradise:

Western Reporters in Soviet Russia (Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America, 1982) 143; Michael

David-Fox, “From Illusory ‘Society’ to Intellectual ‘Public’: VOKS, International Travel and Party:

Intelligentsia Relations in the Interwar Period,” Contemporary European History 11, no. 1 (Feb. 2002): 7-

32; David C. Engerman, “Modernization from the Other Shore: American Observers and the Costs of

Soviet Economic Development” The American Historical Review 105, no. 2 (April 2000): 385; Andrea

Graziosi, “Foreign Workers in Soviet Russia, 1920-40: Their Experience and Their Legacy,” International

Labor and Working-Class History, 33 (Spring 1988): 38-40; Richard Pipes, Russia Under the Bolshevik

Regime, (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993) 416; Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel and

Transculturation: Travel Writing and Transculturation, 2nd

ed. (Routledge, London and New York, 2008);

3; Ludmila Stern, Western Intellectuals and the Soviet Union, 1920-1940: From Red Square to the Left

Bank (London and New York: Routledge, 2007) 17,25-27. 128

Hamilton Herald, “Lawless Communism,” 22 April 1930. 129

Nora Frances Henderson, “All Fight Communism,” Hamilton Herald, 25 June 1933. 130

Hamilton Herald, “The Big ‘Red’ Wolf,” 2 August 1934.

210

The Spectator indicated a polite distaste for the CCF but as concerned Communism, its

editorial line, and that adopted by the police and city council, demonstrated that some things

would not be tolerated. Stories about Communists mostly relayed evidence of their criminal

irrationality, as with the alleged Eastern European immigrants and Communists in Fort Francis.

One of their number, “enraged by criticism of communism, of which he was an ardent supporter,”

murdered his brother’s family.131

Frequent discussions ran in the press about the need to better

police Communists, especially as vagrancy and transient issues came to the front and centre.132

Their every action, from holding meetings to rousing support for the Spanish Civil War, was

treated as evidence of a deceptive and suspicious plot, even when it garnered considerable

support from the city’s labour community.133

This campaign escalated with the advent of the

Second World War. Hamilton’s Communists were alleged to be advancing their plots against the

city and beginning “a change in policy from force to more subtle activities under a disguised

cloak.”134

The Communists, said Mayor William Morrison, had even taken down the signs at their

Barton Street office. They were now “concealing their identity and trying to obtain control by

every means possible of legitimate unions.”135

It was a “grim warning” that confirmed

communism’s real nature.136

131 Hamilton Spectator, “Enraged Communist Kills Three Persons,” 23 March 1931.

132 Hamilton Spectator, “Police Will Ask for Authority to Deal With Communism,” 31 July 1930.

133 Hamilton Spectator, “Communists Suspected in Drive to Aid Spaniards,” 11 November 1936;

Correspondence from the CCF-ILP regarding City Council’s refusal to greet delegates from Spain, received

by the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1936 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1936 (Hamilton, Ontario:

1937), 27 October 1936; Circular letter to Hamilton TLC members regarding supporting anti-fascist effort

in Spain, 8 January 1937, box 1, file 14, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. The CPC was extremely

active in supporting Communist opposition to the Fascists in Spain and Hamilton’s labour organizations

were quick to join in this support. However, unlike the blatantly pro-Communist stance taken by the party

and published in the Canadian Labor Defender, which circulated in Hamilton, they were careful to publicly

frame their efforts as “pro-democracy” and “anti-fascist” rather than explicitly in support of Communism. 134

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Reveals Communist Plot to Harm City Services,” 30 November 1939. 135

Ibid. Debunking Communist “secrets” was popular during the red scare of the 1930s. Its private nature

was spun as secretive and deceptive in order to write lurid articles decrying it. Often written by so-called

“insiders” they sought to tear apart any positive, and thus potentially appealing, Carl Hichin,

“Communism’s False Front,” Maclean’s, 1 February 1939. See also: Negley Farson, Black Bread and Red

Coffins, (New York: The Century Co., 1930); Eugene Lyons, Assignments in Utopia (New York: Twin

211

This belief was echoed by the Spectator’s readers. One, identified only by the initials

V.S., criticized the violence that he saw as inherent in the movement both in Canada and abroad

“[Communists] want revolution by blood and slaughter… No one with intelligence wants to

become a Communist. Communism is nothing more than an unintelligent effort to escape from

the idleness and the poverty.”137

A shared theme of both editorial writers and church ministers

was communistic atheism. “In these horrifying social monstrosities there is an inescapable and

inherent tendency ever from bad to worse; as of a disease which has no power to arrest itself, and

produces a Stygian and remorseless pollution of spirit,” wrote Bruce Norton to the Spectator,

commenting both on Communism and Fascism, “All iniquity is a falling away from God – and

generic totalitarianism is essentially and fundamentally godless. The abyss is bottomless and hell

is an eternal lapse!”138

The United Church was not so harsh in its criticism, but still echoed

concerns that God-rejecting Communists made for problematic allies. During a vote on the matter

of whether the CCF should cooperate with the CPC, as recommended by the Fellowship for a

Christian Social Order, Reverend J.T. Stapleton from Grace United Church in the city’s working-

class north end acknowledged “there are some things in communism that should be adopted in the

social order.”139

However, the general feeling was that the Communists’ anti-religious tone made

them dangerous. Reverend C.A. Williams, from Centenary United, one of the city’s largest

Circle Publishing, 1967); Eugene Lyons, “Moscow Demonstration Trial,” American Mercury (January

1937); Pat Sloan, Russia Without Illusions (New York: Modern Age Books, 1939). 136

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Reveals Communist Plot to Harm City Services,” 30 November 1939. 137

V.S., letter to the editor, “Defines Communism,” Hamilton Spectator, 4 January 1935. 138

Bruce Norton, letter to the editor, “Social Monstrosities,” Hamilton Spectator, 9 February 1939. Fascism

was often paralleled with Communism and came in for heavy criticism, also often focused on the language

of it being against British or Canadian traditions. As early as1933, National Socialist groups had begun

distributing pamphlets in the city. In 1938 the Canadian Nationalist Party of Ontario distributed circulars to

both homes and the local press, extolling the virtues of Fascism for Canada’s future. The circular openly

solicited donations from residents. As the Spectator’s editor wrote, “The Canadian people will not welcome

such solicitation, finding it wholly unnecessary and viewing it as a serious threat to rather than a guarantee

of their birthright. Liberty is still prized in the Dominion including the liberty to do what one likes with

one’s own… We think this frank avowal of its purposes will result in all Canadian who are not totally blind

and deluded doing their part to put such bare-faced presumption in its place.” Hamilton Spectator,

“Ontario’s Fascists,” 17 March 1938; Hamilton Spectator, “Canadian Fascism,” 23 October 1933. 139

Hamilton Spectator, “Local Ministers Against Co-operation with Communists,” 24 June 1935.

212

United Churches which regularly drew attendances of over 800 people in this period, described

himself as in favour of social reforms. “I do not believe the church should ally itself with any

group that has established itself as being against the church and Christianity,” he added, “I

personally am against any dealings with communist groups.”140

Communists in Hamilton were further excluded from one of the sources where the party

had best expected to find support, the city’s large labour movement and organizations. In 1929,

before it had split in two, the TLC remained a fairly conservative part of Hamilton’s labour

movement. Led by Alderman Charles Aitchison, Humphrey Mitchell, and the TLC’s General

Organizer W.A. O’Dell, it was anxious to distance itself from Communism. In June 1929 it

passed a motion to prevent Communists from meeting at or otherwise using the facilities of the

Hamilton Labor Temple.141

Mitchell proclaimed “that there was absolutely no milk of human

kindness in the make-up of this class of people.” 142

It was wrong for a charitable and public-

minded group to profess any association with them. Lawrence alone objected, on the grounds that

he felt discrimination of any kind was wrong, a notion that the Spectator responded to directly:

“the exclusion from the Labor hall will be represented, probably, as an attempt to muzzle

opponents, a violation of the British principle free speech for all. But… the Trades and Labor

council has left no doubt in the mind of the public that it does regard the ‘reds’ as entirely

undesirable.”143

The Spectator was pleased TLC-affiliated unions banned Red Talk: “Anything to

stay away from communist orators!”144

This position was reiterated as the Communists

strengthened their hold in Hamilton’s CIO unions.

This fear of radicalism would recur throughout discussions of Lawrence’s political life,

particularly as the ILP broke with the CCF. While Lawrence had always run as a representative of

140 Ibid.

141 Hamilton Herald, “Communists Barred From Labor Temple,” 19 June 1929; Hamilton Spectator,

“Trades Council Denounces Reds,” 19 June 1929. 142

Hamilton Spectator, “Trades Council Denounces Reds,” 19 June 1929. 143

Hamilton Spectator, “Not Wanted,” 25 June 1929. 144

Hamilton Spectator, “Sit on Communists,” 7 August 1935.

213

the ILP, as the effects of the Depression and unemployment became more evident his militancy

increased. It scared off some voters. Even the more liberally-minded Herald warned against the

dangers of being perceived as a leftist: “Controller Lawrence does not favour the red element in

civic politics, but his position has not been made clear and in consequence his vote suffered.”145

A left politician in Hamilton walked a fine line between being a worker’s advocate and red

politician. Lawrence struggled with this constantly, but it is important to note that by the 1930s,

Lawrence had been serving in municipal politics for over a decade, and during the first years of

this run he had firmly aligned himself with the respectable option of the ILP. Those not well-

versed in the depth of the socialist movement were quick to associate his self-proclaimed

Marxian-Socialist leanings with the Communist Party. While working on the Relief Board, he

personally distributed shoes to single – allegedly non-English speaking – unemployed men

without doing proper screenings. Thus, according to some on council, Lawrence was helping

Communists.146

He was also accused of fostering Communism among the city’s unemployed.147

Lawrence said that such accusations were ridiculous, and that all he had done was take part in the

much-needed “distribution of shoes to deserving men.”148

He had “made personal and careful

investigations in order to satisfy myself that the city was not being imposed upon… [and] given

the benefit of [the doubt] to the applicants… in order that no deserving case should be unjustly

145 Ibid.

146 Hamilton Herald, “Lawrence Charged With Wanting More for Communists,” 7 June 1932. This fierce

insult was often thrown at Lawrence, a self-identified Marxian Socialist, in council and by others in the

public, and would ultimately reach its peak when the ILP and the CCF ultimately split. The frequent

association of the CCF with Communist interests, as opposed to the ILP’s supposed traditional interest in

international trade unionism, led to much red-baiting of Lawrence. 147

Ibid. 148

Ibid. Whether Communists or not, correspondence between the Board of Control and an unnamed relief

officer and a relief investigator named Chertkoff confirmed that these 18 cases had already been

investigated and the Relief Office was not happy with Lawrence overriding their decisions. He promised in

the future to “work in harmony with the Relief Officer and [department] and anything he had done was

done in his best judgement.” Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1932, Minutes of Hamilton

Board of Control, 1932 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1933), 30 May 1932.

214

dealt with.”149

Ultimately council ruled that he had indeed only been working for the

unemployed.

This however, was not the only time Lawrence’s politics would be called in to question.

As previously discussed, Penton, spokesman for the ILP told the Spectator, that Lawrence

supported Communist candidates over ILP ones.150

This spectre haunted him even until 1939,

when a suggestion was made at an ILP membership meeting that he should once and for all “deny

any connection with the Communist Party in his nomination speech.”151

Prior to the Second

World War, Communists were consciously, deliberately, and maliciously villainized by the

Spectator, to the point that even one of the city’s most continually successful politicians could

have his supposed sympathy with the CPC held against him.

Not everyone in the City Beautiful was repulsed by Communism. In an age of

desperation, many could see the appeal of the promises it offered and the presented successes of

the Soviet Union. Rather than maliciously tearing down the CPC and its ideologies, these

individuals saw the best in it, integrating it into the ideas of progress held up so dutifully

throughout the Depression in Hamilton. They focused on the virtuous humanitarian ideals of the

party more often than defending its activity outright. As a “Regular Reader” wrote to the

Spectator, “Lenin’s humanitarian philosophy and sublime ideals are just as admirable as those of

say, Lincoln, to his class. When a man believes in a better civilization in which ‘the profit of the

world will be for all,’ is it fair for agitators and small-minded people to say mean things against

such ideals?”152

The idea that there could be virtue in the party was echoed by some of the more

sympathetic ministers in the city. The Rev. Dr. John MacNeill from McMaster’s theology

149 Hamilton Herald, “Lawrence Charged With Wanting More for Communists,” 7 June 1932.

150 Hamilton Spectator, “Conservatives Hold Council Majority,”4 December 1934. John Hunter, said

Communist Candidate, received seven percent of the vote. There was no public evidence of Lawrence

actually aligning himself with Hunter, in any of the leading or labour newspaper. Little archival evidence

exists from the internal meetings of the ILP for this period, so it is difficult to say if this was possibly an

internal dispute or statement. 151

Regular Meeting Minutes of the Independent Labor Party, 20 November 1939, Minute Books Series B,

Gisborn Collection, HPL. 152

Regular Reader, letter to the editor, “Lenin Meeting,” Hamilton Spectator, 3 February 1934.

215

department, when speaking to an assembled group of Baptist ministers at the school, “paid tribute

to the flaming passion of the communists for evangelism. Another point in its favour was its great

sense of social justice. ‘Say what we will about communism… we must admit that it is an attempt

to change the social order.’”153

These sympathetic ministers included a former Anglican rector

from the city, Henry Roche, who joined the party himself and even had Tim Buck speak at his

new church in Toronto, where Buck allegedly proclaimed that “‘the man who was the inspiration

of the Christian Church would be lined up with communists to-day in their fight against social

injustices.’”154

In a discussion panel a United Church minister from Hamilton’s First United

Church, the Rev. Dr. E. Crossley Hunter, reminded the Spectator’s readers “to claim for [Christ] a

social passion is in keeping with the Gospel. I found noble qualities in Tim Buck.”155

Crossley

Hunter was a progressive United Church minister who preached the social gospel in Hamilton.156

He believed that a better world would emerge through a process of reform, one that embraced

Communists, CCFers – even Rotarians.157

He believed that sacrifice, generosity, and a

compassionate personality were the keys to seeing Hamilton come out of the Depression and was

willing to take advice from anyone who could bring these changes about.158

In June 1937 Crossley Hunter hosted a mixed group of men at his cottage on Fairhaven

Island in the Muskokas, to participate in “a great, beautiful and necessary action... [a chance] to

153 Hamilton Spectator, “Is Some Truth in Communism, Says MacNeill,” 17 May 1934.

154 Hamilton Spectator, “Red in Pulpit Causes Varied Comment Here,” 15 September 1937.

155 Ibid.

156 On Labour Day in 1935, he told his parishioners at First United, “There is another longing everywhere

in men[’]s hearts today. A better order of social and economic life. We are not forgetting that this is labor

Sunday. Tomorrow [Throughout] the land there will be aims and hopes of labor expressed. It’s a long

struggle for emancipation... These hopes, these longings these dreams, for a juster and happier order of life

where men should no longer fear and where greed and exploitation and unemployment should be no more.

Jesus desires all that for his world and it all is possible. He came to fulfill.” Sermon number forty-four, “I

Came to Fulfill” a Labor Day Sermon, September 1935, file 2, box 1, Ernest Crossley Hunter fonds,

UCCA. 157

Sermon at the Hamilton Rotary club, January 1935, file 2, box 4, Ernest Crossley Hunter fonds, UCCA. 158

“A Talk on Unemployment,” given by Revered E. Crossley Hunter to the Hamilton Rotary Club, 4 May

1939, file 2, box 1, Ernest Crossley Hunter fonds, UCCA.

216

put [oneself] in the other man’s position and think his thoughts.”159

Included, among others, in the

group of seemingly disparate figures were a rabbi, two pastors, a lawyer, a criminal, a homeless

man, a Member of Provincial Parliament, a very successful stock broker and, of course, Tim

Buck.160

Star journalist Gregory Clark sailed to the island, uninvited, to observe the event and,

naturally, report on it. His article focused on the conflicting interests of those present and offered

a lengthy discussion of Buck. His description emphasized how ordinary Buck was, but also the

burden of his sacrifices for the cause. He wrote:

Tim Buck, that gray man with the gray eyes and the gray face, who has suffered

prison for what he says he believed, that man into whose cell shots were fired

during the great Kingston riot, he who was ... welcomed home to Toronto by a

multitude of quiet people who sang him in as he walked out of the Union

Station.... And how they got him here had to do with a sailing boat... once he

was a little boy... long years before the world kicked him about for daring to

believe what he thinks is true, and in that boyhood from some shore he saw

little ships and all the long gray years he had longed in that part of him, which

as in all men remains forever a boy, even a Communist, to hold in his hand the

tiller and the sheet of a small ship.161

A similarly warm and sympathetic description was presented by Crossley Hunter, and quoted in

the Star. While both Clark and Crossley Hunter noted that it was certainly not the intention of the

trip to bring about greater support for the CPC, they shared the belief that the event provided a

much needed larger sense of perspective and understanding, for everyone involved. Radical

Christians, Popular Front advocates, and enthusiasts of Buck were to be found in Hamilton, but at

the edges of the city’s common sense, not its heart.

Hamilton had long shaped its political discourses around Hamiltonians’ deep and abiding

connection to the British Empire. This devotion was primarily expressed by an abiding

attachment to the ideals of liberalism and the liberal individual, whose values crossed class lines

and were instead deeply embedded in the created heritage of its largely British citizenry. These

159 Toronto Star, “Tim Buck Made Us Weep, Says Dr. Crossley Hunter,” 21 June 1937.

160 Gregory Clark, “Pastors, Communist, Rabbi, MPP, Broker, Convict Meet on Isle,” Toronto Star, 17

June 1937. 161

Ibid.

217

ideals were reinforced by joyful moments like the royal visit and historical commemorations of

the city’s grand past. However, they were also built up through strict social segregation, political

shaming, and economic discrimination. These reactions to the foreign other served to reinforce

the city’s mythical connection to King and country, and the necessity to uphold these through

proper political practices based upon ideals of the British liberty. This deep attachment among

Hamilton’s first generation of migrants to the city, largely still tied to their actual or constructed

British roots, was a force no politician, left-wing or otherwise, could safely ignore.

218

Chapter 7: Labour, Industry and Prosperity in the Second World War:

Working Hard on the Home Front or a Second Battlefield?

Liberalism in Hamilton – in both its traditional and labour articulations – was a hardy

perennial. Individualism, pride of ownership, belief in progress, and reverence for the Empire and

the ordered liberty it made possible were all ideals that had both intellectual and material

consequences. During the Second World War the city faced further pressures. While the problems

of unemployment all but disappeared, they were replaced by the difficulties the city and its

citizens confronted as its population increased by one-third. Housing shortages, rationing,

transportation problems, and increased pressure on labourers on the job led to rapidly spiraling

discontent. Although the leaders of this militarized Hamilton still touted the same values of

liberal citizenship and self-sacrifice, these no longer resonated with the new migrants to the city.

In the face of these changes, the fledgling CIO unions spoke a new language of workers’ unity

against oppression and preached against the craft gospel of industrial harmony. These dramatic

social transformations brought with them political changes. The elite’s previously successful

reliance on the ideals of a traditional, service-driven, British conservative liberalism came into

question.

Optimism, the Phoney War, and the War-time Pressure Cooker: Progressing through the

Civic Reactions to a Federal Crisis

Hamilton, one of the hardest-hit cities during the Depression, was also among the most

dramatically affected by the call to arms in 1939. Contracts rolled in from Ottawa and factories

from Firestone to Westinghouse took on new workers to feed the suddenly increased demand for

their products.1 By January 1942, the Chamber of Commerce proudly estimated that at least

70,000 workers were employed full-time in Hamilton’s industries, financial institutions, small

1 Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton Firm Secures Large War Supply Contract,” 14 March 1940.

219

businesses, and offices, an increase over the official 1941 census figures of 51,816 workers in all

occupations.2 These numbers did not include those serving in the military. Very few citizens of

Hamilton, in short, were without an occupation. These increasing numbers, along with wartime

legislation meant to prevent work stoppages, made labour negotiations more involved processes

and also led to a growth in unions. The largest and most notable of these were the USWA Local

1005 out of Stelco’s Hamilton Works and the UEW Local 504, based at the Westinghouse plant.

As the city took on more and more workers, its population exploded. In spite of protests

from leaders in the Chamber of Commerce and municipal government that jobs should go to

Hamiltonians first and revert to veterans after they returned from active service, non-

Hamiltonians flocked to the city.3 Between the 1940 civic population assessment and the 1941

census, Hamilton’s population increased officially by 8,833 people to 164,719. The city would

maintain this pattern of growth for the rest of the war.4 The city also expanded its municipal

boundaries, encompassing ever-increasing stretches of Westdale, Barton, and Saltfleet townships,

and almost overwhelming the small amalgamation-resisting towns of Dundas, Waterdown and

Ancaster.5 Hamilton’s expansion brought both increased tax revenues and new tax burdens as the

city had to accommodate many new inhabitants. Their needs – for plumbing and electricity in the

new houses, for food and transportation – were many.

Relief cases plummeted in the 1940s. A report to City Council by the Public Welfare

Board, using numbers collected just days before the war began, saw 3,208 families and a further

402 individuals in the city still receiving relief of some sort, costing a total of $57,624.37 over

2 The Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Annual Report 1941-1942, 21 March 1942, Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce Papers, HPL; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1941: Gainfully Occupied by

Occupations, Industries, etc., Vol.7 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1946), Table 7. 3 Hamilton Spectator, “Employers Provide Opportunities for Returned Men,” 11 December 1944; Report of

the Post-War Reconstruction Committee to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1941, Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1942), 11 February 1941. 4 The Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Annual Report 1941-1942, 21 March 1942, Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce Papers, HPL; Hamilton Spectator, “Population of Hamilton Jumps 12,019 in Two Years,” 12

August 1942. 5 Hamilton Spectator, “Urge Annexation to Prevent Growth of Shack Towns,” 5 April 1945.

220

two weeks at the end of September.6 This figure was a significant decrease from the city’s 1932

peak.7 Once the war began these numbers dropped dramatically again to only 2,247 families on

relief by January 1940. 8 By November of that same year, only 664 families and 362 individuals

remained on the city’s relief rolls.9 These drops were attributed almost solely to wartime

employment drives. Even seasonal unemployment rates came down. This decline in relief was

also driven by federal and provincial orders cutting off all relief from any employable male or

female head of family, or any families with able-bodied employable dependants, though this cut

only affected less than one percent of people then on relief.10

Relief numbers were down and the municipal tax base growing. However, shortages, an

increasingly bureaucratic and federally centralized approach to labour management, and a more

militarized home-front left a growing number of Hamiltonians unimpressed with the self-sacrifice

demanded of them and the notion that they should be content with having any job. Luckily for

Hamilton’s growing group of discontented workers, increasingly active unions with what were

perceived to be radical approaches to reaching agreements had spent the last decade gaining

strength. Hamilton’s workers, both overtly and implicitly, now confronted some key questions.

What did duty to nation and community mean? How could workers and their families better their

lives? These questions would shake Hamilton and its conservative liberalism. Frustration with the

established order grew and prosperity seemed further and further away. Faced with a militarized

rhetoric surrounding duty, inclusion and citizenship, Hamilton’s growing social and political elite

6 Report of the Public Welfare Board to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1939, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1939 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1940), 31 October 1939. 7 Report of the Public Welfare Board to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1933, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1933 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1934), 25 July 1933. 8 Report of the Public Welfare Board to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1940, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1940 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1941), 9 January 1940. 9 Report of the Public Welfare Board to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1940, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1940 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1941), 26 November 1940; Hamilton Spectator, “‘Most Significant

Year’,” 14 January 1941. Most of those on the relief rolls, as the Canadian Welfare Council described the

situation in its 1940 year-end appraisal, were “people inadequately trained, unskilled, physically, socially or

mentally unadjusted or handicapped,” and unlikely ever to become fully self-supporting, even with war-

time employment opportunities. 10

Hamilton Spectator, “Further Slash in Relief Rolls is Made by New Order,” 23 August 1940.

221

confronted challenges to their traditional notions about sacrifice, serving the Empire, and

patiently waiting for government action. The city exploded under this pressure.

Beginning the War on the Home-front: The Auxiliary Defence Corps Suppresses Objection

During the war, as in many of Anglo-Canada’s urban centres, patriotic Hamiltonians,

especially the city’s wealthiest, launched themselves whole-heartedly into the war effort. This

support ranged from the efforts of small knitting groups at churches to civic participation in large-

scale fundraising drives. Through seven Victory Loan drives, Hamiltonians met their fundraising

goals with great fervour.11

During the Victory Loan campaign of 1941, a huge rally was held at

Civic Stadium that attracted 20,000 people. “They saw a spectacle that provided everything in

the way of thrills, pleasure, sentiment, amusement, patriotism, and skill,” with “the heavens

assaulted by ear-shattering reverberations” from the noisy crowd.12

Other Hamiltonians who had

fought in the First World War and built up their wealth since then did their duty in lieu of active

service by mobilizing their business connections for the cause. Harold Leather, the well-to-do

owner of Leather Cartage, found himself too old to enlist and so took charge of the Canadian Red

Cross’ Prisoner-of-War Food Parcels Committee, charged with maintaining the health and spirits

of Canadian Prisoners of War in the Asian campaign, Germany and Central Europe.13

Leather

was a prominent figure in war-time Hamilton. He pushed for changes to trade legislation

exempting the tobacco and sugar destined for the troops from taxation.14

Drawing upon his

Chamber of Commerce connections, he solicited donations for the war effort. Even children

experienced war fever. The citizenship-conscious Playground Commission emphasized a new

11 Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce 1943, March 1944, Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce Papers, HPL. 12

Hamilton Spectator, “Great Victory Loan Rally Stirs Crowds to Outburst of Moving Patriotic Zeal,” 3

June 1941. 13

Financial Post, “Red Cross Man,” 5 August 1944. 14

Annual Report of the Hamilton Chamber of Commerce 1943, March 1944, Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce Papers, HPL.

222

aspect of its program’s teachings: the importance of democracy, especially as opposed to fascism.

President J.J. Smye felt “the spirit of democracy was best nourished when those of the coming

generation are at play and properly supervised,” and wove this theme into his 1941 report on the

state of the city’s playground program.15

Under a heading entitled “Democracy on the

Playgrounds,” he described what he envisioned to be the responsibilities of a playground

supervisor and a playground supervision program in war:

In wartime it is essential to instil in the minds of the younger generation

democratic principles. They are the citizens of tomorrow and should be brought

up to carry on in the right spirit. This was accomplished in several ways on the

playgrounds during the summer. By pointing out and exercising the will of the

majority, the democratic element in administration of the playground was

emphasized. Good sportsmanship was demanded. Co-operation was practiced in

the maintenance of discipline through Junior Police, Safety and Vigilante

squads. In all phases of the playground work this year, the particular war-time

virtues of patriotism, personal sacrifice and the support of the War Saving

Stamp Drive, and Red Cross efforts were kept constantly before the children

both by precept and by example.16

Long-established programs took on a new intensity with an emphasis on serving one’s

community through war-driven recycling, reuse, and repurposing campaigns. During the war, the

city’s children raised $250 a year in pennies alone for the Red Cross through their playground

program.17

In the summer, children as young as twelve were encouraged to undertake some sort

of work, often in a family business or farm. The Eaton’s Good Deed Club ushered the city’s

children into the world of good wartime service through an Eaton’s-sponsored children’s radio

15 Hamilton Playground Commission Annual Report 1942, January 1943, Hamilton Playground

Commission Papers, series B, HPL. 16

Hamilton Playground Commission Annual Report 1941, January 1942, Hamilton Playground

Commission Papers, series B, HPL. Shirley Tillotson has explored the use of playground programs to

promote democracy and good citizenship in children in the post-war period in depth in her monograph on

the topic. While Tillotson’s conclusions that playground programs sought to inculcate the country’s youth

in its liberal democratic order agree with this earlier evidence, war-time programs in Hamilton were

ideologically framed in opposition to fascism and its alleged inability to raise its youth in a way that more

closely resembled the approach taken by militarized youth programs such as Boy Scouts. Tillotson, The

Public at Play, 16-18; Lisa Ossan, The Forgotten Generation: American Children and World War II

(Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 2011) 1-8; Deborah Cowen, Military Workfare: The

Soldier and Social Citizenship in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008), 72-5. 17

Hamilton Playground Commission Annual Report 1945, January 1946, Hamilton Playground

Commission Papers, series B, HPL.

223

show, hosted on CKOC. A live audience was introduced to 200 Good Deeders every week. One

child per show was rewarded with membership in the Good Deed Club, an honour that included

receiving a wrist watch and gold star pin, handsome rewards for well-behaved children. Young

Dorothy Heap sold flowers for the Red Cross, collected and sold recycled goods in order to fund

knitting efforts to benefit children in England made homeless by German bombs, and, in the

words of the Red Cross worker who recommended her, “[had] that determination to help, to make

someone happy whenever she can and she certainly made us happy when she handed us those

sums of money.”18

Fourteen-year-old Edgar Given gave up his summer to work on his

grandfather’s farm, a much-needed service as men flocked to join the army or to the cities to fill

industrial jobs.19

A number of girls started a knitting circle, meeting every Friday to knit socks

and scarves for the soldiers and chipping in money so they could include the much-coveted

cigarettes with their packages.20

Their behaviour was warmly praised. Here was the unselfish and

dutiful conduct necessary for good citizens during the war.

While the home front remained idealistically optimistic and self-sacrificing in some

circles of Hamilton, the constant pressure of the war effort was wearing away on other people.

While its wealthy citizens remained wealthy, even Hamilton’s middle classes increasingly felt the

pinch of war’s demands on their private lives. Under all this pressure, increasingly, Hamilton’s

First World War veterans and the older generation of businessmen turned their hatred of the

foreign other from the enemy abroad to the enemy at home.

18 Transcript of Eaton’s Good Deed Club Radio Show, Broadcast 362, program 9, 14 November 1942,

Eaton’s Good Deed Club papers, HPL. 19

Transcript of Eaton’s Good Deed Club Radio Show, Broadcast 363, program 10, 21 November 1942,

Eaton’s Good Deed Club papers, HPL 20

Transcript of Eaton’s Good Deed Club Radio Show, Broadcast 366, program 13, 17 December 1942,

Eaton’s Good Deed Club papers, HPL.

224

The Immigrant Other: The Legal Boundaries of Identity in War-Time Hamilton

Among the first group of Hamiltonians affected by legal and social restrictions on their

existence within the war-time city were recent immigrants originating in hostile nations. Under

the guidance of Mayor Morrison and Controller Henderson, city council, with the help of the

federal government, set out to find and punish “ultra-radical groups of any stripe, who, far from

disguising their hostility to our democratic ideals, brazenly profess their contempt of them.”21

In

June of 1940, the Gyro Club of Hamilton passed a resolution urging Ottawa to remember “‘the

vital necessity of immediately interning for the duration of the war all enemy aliens.’”22

The

organization, made up mostly of former veterans, claimed that despite its normally apolitical

stance, “in this instance members of the club felt that their feelings should be indicated to the

government and the government urged to take immediate action in regard to enemy aliens.”23

The

Mayor and City council felt that here was a plan that they could support, and approved the

resolution. Given the rapid backlash that had taken place against immigrants, especially Germans

and Austrians, during the First World War, it was not entirely surprising given the increasing

visibility of now-enemy Italians, Eastern Europeans, and Germans in the city over the last decade,

that nativism would also flourish in the Second. Anglo-Canada became an even more dangerous

place to be an ethnic other.24

Hamilton saw dramatic actions mounted against its growing immigrant populations.

Under the combined leadership of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), the OPP, the

Hamilton Defence Force, and the local police, “the large scale round-up of dangerous Italian

21 Hamilton Spectator, “‘Subversive groups’,” 10 May 1940.

22 Hamilton Spectator, “Interment of Enemy Aliens Urged Upon Prime Minister,” 7 June 1940.

23 Ibid.

24 For further information on the national context of war-time persecution of enemy aliens during the

Second World War see Martin F. Auger, Prisoners of the Home Front: German POWS and Enemy Aliens

in Southern Quebec, 1940-46 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2006); Franca Iacovetta,

Roberto Perin, and Angelo Principe, eds., Enemies Within: Italian and Other Internees in Canada and

Abroad (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000); Bohdan Kordan, Canada and the Ukrainian

Question, 1939-1945: A Study in Statecraft (Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press,

2001); Travis Tomchuk, “Transnational Radicals: Italian Anarchist Networks in Southern Ontario and the

Northeastern United States, 1915-1940” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Queen’s University, 2010).

225

elements in the city” was managed “within an hour or two, practically” of Italy declaring war.25

No fewer than 50 police officers focused their searches on the city’s “Italian colony… of the

north-west, north, and northeast ends.”26

Those interned included prominent members of the Sons

of Italy, but also rounded up were Rocco Perri, who was interned not because of his rampant

criminal operations but rather because he had suspiciously declined to become a naturalized

citizen, and Antonio Olivieri, an “anti-Fascist” who had the misfortune of sharing a last name

with another interned man.27

The Hamilton Auxiliary Defence Corps ensured that no

“subversives” escaped the net of internment.28

The problem of identifying who was a loyal

Canadian was exacerbated when the government passed regulations that prevented current

residents of foreign birth, in Hamilton’s case including people from Poland, Italy, Russia,

Hungary, and Czechoslovakia, from applying for naturalization to become British subjects. 29

With the legal path to becoming Canadian cut off, these ethnic others were distanced from their

Canadian peers no matter how loyal they tried to prove themselves to be.

While most people in Hamilton had had little exposure to or experience with the

Communist menace at home during the Great Depression, Hamiltonians had been amply exposed

by the ardently right-wing Spectator to its worries about the CPC abroad and at home. Such fears

were heightened at the outbreak of war when the Soviet Union signed a non-aggression pact with

Nazi Germany. The CPC was promptly outlawed nationally under the Defence of Canada

Regulations Act, Section 21.30

However, Hamilton’s City Council and Board of Control took the

motion further, outlawing any “subversive” municipal candidates, encompassing not only

25 Hamilton Spectator, “Fifth Column, Anti-Sabotage Work Increased Police Task,” 26 February 1941.

26 Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton’s Leading Fascists in Internment Camps,” 12 June 1940.

27 Hamilton Spectator, “Rocco Perri Has Been Freed From Internment Camp,” 14 October 1943; Meeting

of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1940, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1940 (Hamilton, Ontario:

1941), 27 August 1940. 28

Hamilton Spectator, “Local Defence Corps Sends Protest to Premier King,” 25 July 1940. 29

Hamilton Spectator, “Naturalization of Aliens Now Forbidden By Ottawa,” 21 June 1940. 30

Cuthbertson, Labour Goes to War, 48.

226

Communists but many immigrants.31

They also passed a by-law put forth by Robert Evans, a

well-to-do lawyer, and Robert Inch, the son of wealthy land owners and himself a lawyer, through

which the Corporation of the City of Hamilton would pay $50 to anyone “who first supplies to

the police information resulting in the arrest and conviction of anyone in Hamilton of subversive

activities.”32

This suppression of Communists and anyone affiliated with them extended to the

Hamilton labour movement. The AFL-affiliated TLC, which remained the dominant labour

organization at the start of the war, again pledged to keep its ranks free of Communists, anti-war

agitators, and anyone against the win-the-war effort.33

The most visible arrest was that of CIO

activist Robert McClure, who was arrested for distributing Communist pamphlets, most

specifically “The Truth About Finland,” which according to the Crown attorney contained hateful

writings about the British war efforts.34

Despite a rallying defence from his Toronto lawyer that

drew on opinions from George Bernard Shaw, H.G Wells and the Dean of Canterbury, the judge

sentenced him to 30 days in prison, advising him that the verdict of history would not, as he had

claimed, be in his favour. He cautioned McClure and like-minded subversives: “‘I do not think

history points out any great thing has been done by any person who attempted to betray his

31 Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1940, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1940 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1941), 25 June 1940. The only members who voted against this resolution were Controller

Lawrence, and Aldermen Robert Thornberry and Harry Hunter, all of whom were CCF members. Given

the crackdown on union organizers with Communist affiliations Hunter, who himself had worked as a

union organizer, had good reason to be concerned about a by-law that would affect “any person who has

been or who becomes an officer or member of any organization declared illegal by the Defence of Canada

Regulations or of any branch or affiliate thereof or who has advocated or defended or who advocate or

defend the acts, principles or policies of any such organization.” 32

Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1940, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1940 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1941), 28 May 1940. 33

Hamilton Spectator, “Honour Paid to Retiring Head of Labour Body,” 6 January 1940; Hamilton

Spectator, “City Hall Inquiry Held to Probe Charges of Disloyalty,” 20 April 1940. As mentioned

previously, the formerly united Hamilton District TLC had split in two in the 1939, when the CIO had been

expelled from the Trades and Labour Congress. This resulted in an AFL-affiliated Hamilton TLC and a

Canadian Congress of Labour-affiliated HDLC. While their aims were sharply contrasting one, especially

as regarded the expansion of industrial unions over craft unions, they co-existed relatively peacefully. 34

Hamilton Spectator, “McClure’s Conviction Confirmed by Judge E.F. Lazier,” 15 April 1940.

227

country to its enemies when they were at war.’”35

McClure’s conviction was eventually extended

when he failed to pay a requisite $100 fine for the offence of possessing subversive pamphlets.

His case was later used when Grimsby and Hamilton appealed to the Provincial Legislature for

more power to be given to municipalities in order to crack down on so-called subversive

elements.36

The Ukrainian Labour Farmer Temple Association (ULFTA), accused on and off of CPC

links since its inception, had its property repossessed under the Wartime Emergency Powers Act,

under which ULFTA was declared an unlawful organization. While this status was lifted on 14

October 1943, after the USSR joined the war, the government had already disposed of a number

of the organization’s halls, including the one located in Hamilton, sold in November 1941.37

This

crackdown caused visible rifts within the city’s Ukrainian immigrant population. These repressive

actions were reinforced by the small but powerful group of Hamiltonians that made up

Hamilton’s Auxiliary Defence Corps, whose influence was magnified as the war progressed.

One of the earliest steps in Hamilton’s war efforts was the institution of the Hamilton

Civil Guard, a home defence league made up of somewhere between 800 and 1,000 men. Armed

with shotguns, armoured cars, and a motorcycle brigade, and trained in First Aid by the St. John’s

Ambulance Corps, the group of older men, mostly veterans, was charged with ensuring the city’s

war-time defences. It also consisted of members of local gun clubs, who were not required to

patrol or parade but could still be called upon. The guard’s bi-weekly parades at the city’s

centrally located armoury transformed the bustling core into a constant reminder of the city’s

military role. 38

35 Ibid.

36 Hamilton Spectator, “Majority of Council Will Support Move Against Reds,” 4 May 1940.

37 “An Appeal For Justice: The Case of the Seized Properties of the Ukrainian Labour-Farmer Temple,”

Pamphlet, 1943, box 15, George M.A.Grube collection, QUA. 38

Report of the Hamilton Auxiliary Defence Corps to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1941, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1942), 30 September 1941.

228

The Hamilton Auxiliary Defence Corps (HADC), also composed of veterans, claimed to

take a more peaceful and propagandistic approach. In its own words, the HADC was “a purely

civil and non-military body consisting of a large number of loyal citizens pledged by peaceful

means to guard the home front.”39

Its stated purposes were:

To act in time of war as an auxiliary body co-operating with the municipal,

provincial, and federal authorities in promoting and preserving peace, order,

and public security in the city of Hamilton, To promote and encourage the most

vigorous prosecution of the war at home and abroad [and] To press for the

arrest and interment of all enemy aliens and the vigorous detection, punishment

and internment of spies, saboteurs and participants in subversive activities.40

Meant to change the hearts and minds of Hamiltonians, HADC published reams of propaganda to

promulgate their fear-tinged perception of fifth columnists. While it failed to recruit “every man

woman and child in the city,” as it had hoped, its membership included Conservative councillors

Inch and Frame, businessmen as influential as H.G. Hilton of Stelco, and even Mayor William

Morrison himself.41

It managed to be self-sustaining, and was paid for through donations from its

membership.42

Its inaugural parade in September 1940 attracted a large crowd to the civic

stadium to witness local military bands, a march by the Home Guard, and a fly-by in battle

formation by the Hamilton Aero Club.43

Pressing an obvious equation between Britishness,

loyalty to the crown, and fighting subversion, the Spectator proclaimed that “Hamilton’s British

loyalty and its determination to give the Motherland the fullest measure of aid for victory were

evidenced in a stirring manner.”44

On occasion, the Corps’ actions extended beyond bravado and

ceremonial displays. Throughout the war, it turned its attention to electoral politics. In the 1940

civic election, the Corps published a full page ad denouncing CCF politicians Sam Lawrence,

39 Hamilton Spectator, advertisement “Every Loyal Citizen Should Vote and Vote Right,” 27 November

1940. Though it was officially the non-military arm of the Home Defence League, the membership of the

two overlapped significantly, with Inch heading one and serving in the other along with many other

veterans of the First World War. 40

Hamilton Spectator, advertisement “It Happened Here and Here and it Can Happen Here,” 8 June 1940. 41

Ibid. 42

Report of the Hamilton Auxiliary Defence Corps to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1941, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1942), 30 September 1941. 43

Hamilton Spectator, “Home Defence Corps,” 23 September 1940. 44

Ibid.

229

Harry Hunter and John Mitchell for their alleged affiliations with subversive groups. Featuring

reproductions of letters that Lawrence had signed for May Day Rallies and for the National

Conference of Friendship with the USSR, the ad implored Hamiltonians to “Play Safe – Vote

against all candidates having a record of friendship with those who are helping our enemies.”45

Expansion Beyond its Means: Growing a City with War-time Restrictions

Hamilton during the Depression had stagnated in terms of expansion, population, and

industrial investment. Now many Hamiltonians hoped for steady jobs and better pay. As the

Spectator put it in a Christmas retrospective for the Council of Social Agencies, the “Boom in

industry [was the] best Christmas box for hundreds… of families [who] have benefited by the

improvement in business and are in a position this year to provide their own hearths with the

good things that go toward making the festival truly happy.”46

While the war brought increased wages and work, it also entailed more onerous

sacrifices. As President Margaret Rhynas reminded the women volunteers assembled at the

Ontario Hospital Aids Association Wartime Conference, “These war days have brought wide

fields for our labours, broad sympathies and large demands upon our time, energy, sympathy and

material gifts. It has all been good for us. We are stronger, broader in thought and vision, more

steadfast and warm hearted, more tolerant.”47

Sacrifice was certainly something that the war

required, and not just in terms of volunteer time. As early as September 1940, the Hamilton

Bakers’ Association debated the complicated equation of price controls, profits, and availability,

in this case regarding the local price of bread.48

45 Hamilton Spectator, advertisement “Every Loyal Citizen Should Vote and Vote Right,” 27 November

1940. 46

Hamilton Spectator, “Boom in Industry Best Christmas Box for Hundreds,” 21 December 1940. 47

Message Presented by the President During the Opening Sessions of the Second Wartime Conference

Women’s Hospital Aids Association, October 1943, Box 4, Women’s Hospital Aids Association of Ontario

fonds, AofO. 48

Hamilton Spectator, “Rise in Price of Bread not Contemplated Locally,” 7 September 1940.

230

As the women of the Phyllis Fletcher Guild of the McNab Street Presbyterian Church

wrote in the opening of their cookbook designed for the ration-restricted household:

Almost all of the important things for good cooking are, in these war days,

scarce or definitely rationed. This along with the necessity of making our needs

fit our war time purse has produced a marked change in cooking… The lunch

box has definitely entered our lives and it must be filled daily with attractive

and nourishing food. The use of substitutes for many of the old stand-bys of

cookery is required… Our times have changed and our material and people are

on a war time footing.49

The cookbook, focused on meatless dishes, desserts heavy with local fruits and light on added

sugar and butter, and budget-friendly cuts of meat, emphasized presentation over contents, and

light-work alternatives to formerly labour-intensive dishes. Five pages were devoted to “Lunch

Box Hints,” sandwich recipes aimed at keeping a worker full on ten to twelve hour shifts.50

The

cookbook, well-supported by over 100 private businesses, spoke to the social and economic

realities and necessities of a Hamilton at war and now fated to economize. By the time of the

1942 federal budget’s release, Hamiltonians were facing more taxes, stagnant wages, increased

calls for war loans, rising costs, and food restrictions.51

As many as 700 Hamiltonian women

were in charge of managing and distributing the newly-instituted sugar rations on a tight deadline,

after sugar joined meat, nylons, rubber, metals, and gasoline on the list of restricted goods.52

Hamiltonians young and old were recycling everything from fat and bones to newspapers and

rags, all to support the wartime salvage efforts.53

With the necessary rationing laws in place, victory gardens returned to the city again.

Hamilton had maintained public garden plots throughout the Depression and so had prepared and

maintained land ready in 1943. With men in the factories and away from their families’ farms, the

Spectator responded to the Mayor’s suggestion by proclaiming: “It devolves upon Canadian

49 Cookbook “Kitchen Kraft,” compiled by The Phyllis Fletcher Guild of the McNab Street Presbyterian

Church, Hamilton, Ontario, early 1940s, author’s collection. 50

Ibid. 51

Hamilton Spectator, “See Change in Living Standards as Result of Budget,” 24 June 1942. 52

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton Women Giving Services in Ration Plan,” 24 June 1942 53

Hamilton Spectator, “Situation is Clarified,” 16 January 1942.

231

Citizens to help.”54

Mayor Morrison spoke favourably of the need for public vegetable gardens

and warned of “the threat of a food shortage in the Dominion … Rations and restrictions are not

likely to diminish, the signs all point to their increasing.”55

As the experts observed, “the plot

does not have to be too large… a garden twenty by forty feet will produce all the basic vegetables

required by a family.”56

However, keeping a garden added onerous work to women’s days,

especially those working in the factories themselves. Since necessities such as jam and seeds

were sorely needed both abroad and at home, even as labour shortages persisted, production

needed to increase with no return in supplies for local residents.57

Saving extra for later was an

unforgivable sin. “Loyal Citizens do not hoard,” Eaton’s informed workers in its garment

production division,

They buy only for their immediate needs, they carefully adjust their standard of

living, realizing that their country’s needs must come first… Are you co-

operating to the best of your ability to save Canada from such horrors as Hong

Kong? If Canadians do their duty, there will be no more hoardings… More food

can be sent to Great Britain.58

The shortages, presented by government as the necessary cost of patriotism, wore on those on the

home front who were being required to work twice as hard and sacrifice twice as much.

Most of the work in providing for these shortages and accommodating them was carried

out by the city’s women, many already quite taxed in their roles as working women and mothers.

As one housewife wrote to the Spectator, the restrictions seemed illogical and ever-growing,

On behalf of housewives like myself struggling to abide by regulations, I would

like to ask for some information. We are restricted on sugar, tea and coffee, and

meat has risen so in price that it has left our budgets behind. The children’s ice

cream and candy have been restricted, gasolene is bought by coupon and rubber

54 Hamilton Spectator, “Gardens are Essential,” 8 April 1943.

55 Ibid.

56 Hamilton Spectator, “Food for Victory,” 13 March 1943.

57 Home and Country, “Jam Goes to Britain,” “Seeds for English Gardens,” Fall 1943, File 3, Women’s

Institute collection, HPL. 58

Eaton’s Hamilton Bi-Weekly, “‘The Hoarder’ Public Enemy No. 1,” 15 June 1942, F 229-141, Eaton’s

Employee Magazines Collection, AofO.

232

is very scarce… Why has beer not been restricted? We who are struggling to do

our bit would like to see some sense put in our war effort.59

The Consumer Branch of the Local Council of Women worked hard to provide women with

consumer advice and up-to-date information on rationing restrictions and emergency relief.60

As

wages rose and jobs became more plenitful, a woman’s burden was not eased. As Mrs. Fred G.

Millan, President of the Ontario Provincial Council of Women, told a crowd assembled in 1941 at

the Council’s Provincial Annual meeting, women’s work at home was all too often overlooked

when accounting for the war effort, even though “everyone is working to the limit of the strength

in her own particular organization.”61

In addition to increased living expenses and shortages of supplies, Hamilton faced a

severe shortage of homes in general. In October of 1940, the city was in urgent need of housing

for an additional 3,000 workers already, and the Mayor and Board of Control predicted this

number would double in the next year.62

The following year everyone from census assessors to

the Children’s Aid Society noted that Hamilton’s families were doubling up in houses, pushing

the boundaries of safety.63

By 1944 the city was still describing an “extremely urgent need of

housing for servicemen’s and workers’ families.” 64

It described cases of families being forced to

live in buildings condemned by the Medical Officer of Hamilton. Coming out of the Depression,

the city had just overcome serious problems with evictions and rental housing maintenance,

which at points had bordered on a public health crisis. Little money had been available for

expanding Hamilton’s housing stock. Depression-era Hamilton had suffered from haphazard and

poorly enforced construction practices which left many Hamiltonians living in substandard or

59 Worried Workers, Letter to the editor, “Housewife Wonders,” Hamilton Spectator, 14 July 1942.

60 Maud Millar, Letter to the editor, “Sugar Rationing,” Hamilton Spectator, 20 June 1942.

61 President’s Report to the Ontario Provincial Women’s Council, May 1941, B-287452, Provincial

Women’s Council of Ontario fonds AofO. 62

Hamilton Spectator, “More Houses Needed for Workers, Controllers Told,” 24 October 1940 63

Hamilton Spectator, “Substantial Increase in City Population Revealed,” 15 March 1941; Hamilton

Spectator, “Shortage of Housing Facilities is Termed Desperate,” 10 May 1941. 64

Alderman Hunter, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1944, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1944 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1945), 26 September 1944.

233

over-crowded dwellings.65

The city lacked the capital to expand services such as water, electricity

and roads on its own, let alone to build the houses that were so sorely needed. Where should these

houses go and who should pay for them? The relatively closed community of Westdale did not

want unsightly workers’ shanties springing up in its established neighbourhood. Its residents

feared that such habitations “would be detrimental to the character of the vicinity.”66

Roadways

and mass transit up and down the Niagara Escarpment remained underdeveloped, leaving vast

tracts of its land largely inaccessible to workers whose factories were all located at its base. Early

in the war, restrictions were also introduced by the War-time Prices and Trade Board regarding

rent controls that were intended to prevent the “undue enhancement of rentals” in industrial areas

like Hamilton.67

Wartime Housing Limited, approved by the House of Commons, was headed by local

Hamilton construction magnate Joseph Pigott.68

Local control meant many benefits for the city.

Here, said one report, was “one centre where large developments are taking place and where large

contracts are in hand and is one of the outstanding cases where a quantity of additional

65 These fears about perilous buildings and lack of enforcement came vividly to a head on 24 May 1944.

Moose Temple dance hall, owned by the Loyal Order of the Moose, caught fire, killing eleven and injuring

an additional 35. The high death count was largely attributed to the lack of second floor fire escapes, which

the Temple had been unable to install due to wartime restrictions on steel. The public outrage over the fire

prompted an investigation into civic building codes. Ultimately, the investigation found that the city’s

building by-laws had fallen behind the times and were poorly enforced at best. The hall had last been

inspected by the city and the fire department in 1942, and at the time had been found lacking in fire escapes

and exits, but the follow-up had been left entirely to the Order’s discretion, and not enforced by the city.

This led to a complete overhaul of building and inspections legislation for the city and led to some

mitigation of the problems that the city had previously experienced. Hamilton Spectator, “A Probe is in

Order,” 25 May 1944; Hamilton Spectator, “Death Toll is Seven in Moose Temple Fire Tragedy,” 25 May

1944; Hamilton Spectator, “Fire at Foot of Stairs Trapped Dancers, Police Say,” 8 June 1944; Hamilton

Spectator, “Evidence Completed, Civic Inquiry Adjourns To-day,” 7 July 1944; Report of His Honour

Judge E.F. Lazier Respecting Building By-Law to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1944, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1944 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1945), 3 August 1944. 66

Hamilton Spectator, “Building Boom Transforms Mount Hamilton District,” 26 December 1940;

Hamilton Spectator, “More Houses Needed for Workers, Controllers Told,” 24 October 1940; Hamilton

Spectator, “Protest lodged Over War-Time Housing in Westdale,” 5 August 1941; Hamilton Spectator,

“Urge Housing Projects Be Open to Soldiers’ Families,” 13 Aug 1941. 67

Hamilton Spectator, “Rent Control,” 14 September 1940. 68

J.M. Pigott, condensed diaries, 290-291, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds, WRDARC.

234

accommodation will be required.”69

The new industrial workers and the families of servicemen

needed housing. The Wartime Housing Corporation tried to secure it for them. It built instant and

temporary subsidized housing and attempted to surround such dwellings with parks, schools and

community centres within an accessible distance.70

These houses, built in groups of anywhere

from 100 to 2000, were rented out with the expectation that people would vacate them once the

war was done. They were priced accordingly. The City of Hamilton provided fixed tax

arrangements, to alleviate what by that point had begun to be described as a crisis of public

health. More and more families were forced to reside in hastily renovated temporary shelters as

they waited for housing.71

Suburbs sprang up on the mountain, in Westdale, in Barton Township,

and nearly anywhere where space remained for housing.72

With services provided by the

company itself, City Council had no objections to these quickly growing developments, so long

as they were well-constructed, and maintained.

However, these partial solutions never solved Hamilton’s general housing problems. In

fact, they created even more problems for the city’s workers and newcomers, who were now

confronted with hastily constructed housing far from the city. Transportation to and from the

centre became yet another war-time issue. Public transport spending and scheduling could not

keep up with the growing population. Gasoline and rubber rationing made driving a private car to

work a distant post-war dream for most.73

Further, while housing had been found for the workers of the city, many servicemen felt

that it had been provided at the expense of their families.74

Conditions at the Margaret Street

Hostel, which had been a nuisance for the Minister of Health throughout its tenure of service,

69 The Hamilton Chamber of Commerce Annual Report 1940-1941, 31 March 1941, Hamilton Chamber of

Commerce Papers, HPL. 70

J.M. Pigott, condensed diaries, 290-291, Box 10, file 1, J.M. Pigott fonds, WRDARC. 71

Hamilton Spectator, “M.O.H. Admits Community Centre Situation Serious,” 27 January 1943. 72

Hamilton Spectator, “More Houses Needed for Workers, Controllers Told,” 24 October 1940; Hamilton

Spectator, “Building Boom Transforms Mount Hamilton District,” 26 December 1940; Hamilton Spectator,

“War-Time Housing Structures But Temporary – Pigott,” 22 April 1941. 73

Hamilton Spectator, “Staggered Shopping Hours Urged by Street Railway,” 20 November 1941. 74

Hamilton Spectator, “Veterans May Intervene If Soldier’s Family Evicted,” 18 February 1943.

235

only worsened as overcrowding persisted. Overcrowding aggravated public health worries and

Dr. Davey, the now chief medical officer of the city who had prided himself on lowering infant

mortality, “expressed concern over the situation.”75

It was further feared that some of the evicted

families were not good tenants, and had been evicted for good reason. As Davey noted, “civic

officials admitted that some of the families resident there made no attempt to live in

cleanliness.”76

Public health official feared the consequence of packing so many families tightly

together in highly emotional states. Overcrowding and other housing dilemmas persisted long

after Wartime Housing began work on building. It forced the city to reach beyond Wartime

Housing, and appeal directly to the province to ask to be allowed to build its own civic public

housing for these houseless families. The city council drew the province’s attention to “the

extremely urgent need for housing for servicemen’s and workers’ families… expressed in ever

growing overcrowding, and by families being forced to live in buildings condemned by the

Medical office of health.”77

Even as the war effort in the city was winding down in September

1945, over 300 families were still waiting for housing, making do in these shelters and with

family and friends.78

City council voted unanimously in 1945 to approve private construction of

75 Hamilton Spectator “Close Margaret Street Hostel, Board is Urged,” 9 September 1943. The Margaret

Street Hostel had been opened during the Depression to provide a temporary refuge for families who had

been evicted. It continued to be used for this purpose during the war, housing up to 30 families. 76

Ibid. 77

Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1944, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1944 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1945), 26 September 1944. This motion was in fact the city’s third call upon the province, the first

of which was a letter sent to Hamilton MP and then Minister for the Department of Municipal Affairs T.B.

McQuesten. This letter received the response that it was the job of the federal, not municipal or provincial,

government to provide housing for war-time workers, as munitions and other military contracts were

federal matters. Report on Letter to T.B. McQuesten, by William Morrison, Mayor, to City of Hamilton,

City Council, 1942, Minute of Hamilton City Council 1942, (Hamilton, Ontario: 1943) 3 November 1942.

The city was allowed to form and run the Hamilton Housing Board only once the war was over, when it

took on creating self-contained apartments for post-war reconstruction and rehousing purposes. Report of

the Hamilton Housing Board, to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1945, Minutes of Hamilton City Council,

1945, (Hamilton, Ontario: 1946) 24 September 1945. 78

Hamilton Spectator, “City Will Not Demand Razing of War-Time Houses,” 11 September 1945;

Hamilton Spectator, “No Housing Miracles,” 26 September 1945.

236

post-war housing especially for veterans at a discounted price.79

After years of stagnation,

Hamilton was growing beyond its means.

Jobs For Everyone, Choice for None: Hamiltonians Confront War-time Employment

Restrictions

Speaking to a local Hamilton radio audience Tom McClure, President of the recently-

formed USWA Local 1005 at the Stelco, described the frustrations his fellow union members felt

regarding the Ontario legislature’s hesitant action on the “Ontario Labour Bill.” He was referring

to the CCF’s push for a labour bill that was intended to make union recognition easier and

government-mandated collective bargaining with unions the legal norm.80

“In this [war], labor

has great responsibilities. Labor is shouldering these responsibilities like no other section of the

nation.” 81

McClure then pressed his political point:

As a responsible employee of [Stelco] and as Pres. of Local 1005, United

Steelworkers of America, representing a clear majority of the employees of the

Hamilton Works, I assert that Stelco workers have proved themselves true

soldiers of production. We feel keenly the lack of legislation which would grant

to labour the right of collective bargaining and Union recognition. In the

interests of national unity and increased production for war, labour should be

accepted as an equal partner with government and management.82

McClure’s sentiments were shared by much of the labour movement in Ontario. Its growing

frustration has previously been studied in depth by other historians.83

By the time he spoke to his

radio audience in 1943, Hamilton had already witnessed over a dozen war-time strikes, including

the initial one – lasting just two days – at the Hamilton Bridge Company Ltd., a steel products

79 Special Meeting of City Council on Housing to City of Hamilton, City Council, 1945, Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1945, (Hamilton, Ontario: 1946), 31 August 1945. 80

Cuthbertson, Labour Goes to War, 120-2. 81

Thomas McClure Radio Speech, early 1943, box 1, file 7, Thomas McClure subfonds, USWA Local

1005 fonds, WRDARC. 82

Ibid. 83

Judy Fudge and Eric Tucker, Labour Before the Law: the Regulation of Workers’ Collective Action in

Canada, 1900-1948 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004); McInnis, Harnessing Labour

Confrontation.

237

manufacturer which built tanks for the military. It was followed by a month-long walkout at the

National Steel Car plant, one involving extensive arrests and unrest.

The changing mindset of the city’s workers also meant that the traditional notions of

liberal service and self-sacrifice that Hamilton’s Conservatives and craft-based labour movement

traditionally espoused were put under pressure. It is important to remember that Hamilton’s

population increased by almost a third during the 1940s. That growth was almost entirely

predicated on the growth of the industrial war machine. How would the former approach of

Hamilton’s now-AFL-affiliated TLC to pressure politicians and wait for legislation and legal

reforms hold up in a transformed population, working in transformed workplaces? How would

notions of duty and self-sacrifice gel with a workforce constantly asked for more, yet given back

no wage increases and few chances even to move to another job?

The wartime workplace was changing. Gone was the ability to leave one industry for

another. Here to stay were 24-hour production runs, increased efficiency drives, and little

tolerance for manufacturing flaws. Although newly-introduced workplace improvement

committees at plants such as Westinghouse gave workers a sense of autonomy and ownership in

their work, they also promoted speeding up production as a team effort. Through such systems,

employees could make suggestions – some of them monetarily rewarded – on how to make

production more efficient, how to make products work better, or how to reduce production

material waste.84

In addition to the changing pressures of the workplace, male workers were also

confronted with more women in factories. Fully one third of the union stewards at Greening

84 Westinghouse Suggestion Committee Report, January 1944, “Better Bomb Racks Bomb Berlin!” box 8B,

file 14, Westinghouse of Canada fonds, WRDARC.While usually the rewards were small, ranging from

$2.50 to $5, large rewards were not unheard of. Albert Wilkins designed reinforcing structure for side

plates used in the assembly of bomb racks. Wilkins design resulted in plate more durable than those

produced earlier. This saved time through eliminating the need to drill holes and then insert rivets, saved

material as rivets were no longer needed, and made a more durable product. For this significant war-time

innovation he was awarded $310.

238

Industries were women, with eleven serving on the 34-person workplace committee.85

Advice

regarding childcare services and clothing became standard fare in employee magazines.86

What

would happen after the war, and who would remain on the shop floor once the war was over?87

One of wartime Hamilton’s increasingly common conflicts was that between the

traditional internal employees’ organizations and the new and radical unions, now different in

tone and philosophy from the trade unions which had long been a part of the Hamilton landscape.

Both Stelco and Westinghouse had featured internal employee organizations, even as unions

formed, which aimed to cover all workers within the plant. Traditional associations now seemed

inadequate – good for picnics but ill-suited to the demands of collective bargaining.88

For

example, a request made to the Stelco Hamilton Works Council for across-the-board reforms to

pay rates, bonuses, and piecework systems fell on deaf ears.89

The company merely promised to

keep an eye on real wages. It could “not agree that any of our employees are in a worse condition

than in those [pre-Depression] years and it is generally agreed that those were the Country’s most

prosperous years.”90

Similarly, when standard-of-living issues were raised, these committees

returned a firm ‘no’ on the question of redistributing the profits of the company. Wage hikes

85 Minutes of the USWA Local 2950 General Membership, 31 March 1943, box 1, minute book 1, USWA

2950 fonds, WRDARC. 86

Hamilton Spectator, “Clear-Eyed, Steady-Handed Women Guide Machines Which Produce Canada’s

Weapons,” 9 September 1941; Hamilton Spectator, “Will Erect Centre to House Women War Workers,” 4

July 1942; Hamilton Spectator, “Board Assists Mothers Employed in War Industries,” 26 August 1944;

Westinghouse Employees’ Magazine, August 1945, box 7, file 16, Westinghouse of Canada Fonds,

WRDARC; Westinghouse Employees’ Magazine, December 1944, box 7, file 15, Westinghouse of Canada

Fonds, WRDARC; Eaton’s Hamilton Bi-Weekly, 9 February 1942, F 229-141, Eaton’s Employee

Magazines Collection, AofO. 87

Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1940, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1940 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1941), 10 October 1940; Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1941, Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1942), 11 February 1941; Meeting of City of Hamilton, City

Council, 1941, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1942), 8 April 1941; Meeting

of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1941, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario:

1942), 27 February 1941; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of Control, 1941, Minutes of Hamilton

Board of Control, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1942), 15 April 1941; Meeting of City of Hamilton, Board of

Control, 1941, Minutes of Hamilton Board of Control, 1941 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1942), 1 May 1941. 88

Minutes of the Westinghouse Veteran Employees Association, 19 April 1943, box 13, Westinghouse of

Canada fonds, WRDARC. 89

Minutes of the Stelco Hamilton Works Council, 16 April 1941, box 24, USWA Local 1005 fonds,

WRDARC. 90

Ibid.

239

would be taken away in taxes, so raises or cost of living bonuses were best not implemented.91

This attitude of “management knows best” exasperated the workers on the committee, who would

propose the same reforms at multiple meetings with few results. As frustration grew, workers

increasingly rejected these bodies as their negotiating bodies, favouring instead the new unions,

often SWOC-sponsored, which had been gaining momentum in the city since the 1930s. With

wartime pressures building, more and more workers organized under the banners of the USWA,

with demands that included not just better working conditions but also union recognition.

Discontent resulted in over 30 war-time work stoppages or potential disruptions. All had

to be addressed by the Department of Labour in Hamilton during the war. Hamilton’s workers

were incensed enough to mount three major strikes. The first of these came in April 1941.

Workers at National Steel Car had been attempting to negotiate with their employer through their

union, a local of the USWA, and to co-operate with the conciliation board under the Industrial

Disputes Investigation Act. The negotiations dragged on. The company resisted one of the

union’s key demands regarding rehiring fired union staff, Local president George Turner among

them.92

Most of the factory’s frustrated workers walked off the job, closing two shops and

stopping production at the whole main plant.93

The 55-hour strike cost the company about

100,000 man-hours, and delayed the fulfillment of a vital order for the munitions industry.94

Hamilton’s workers were under pressure during the war. They confronted stagnant

wages, poor living conditions, authoritarian work regimes, stepped-up production schedules and

seemingly arbitrary legislation. Over time, they came to see strikes as promising solutions to

many of these problems. This was best exemplified by the longest strike of the war at the

Hamilton Bridge and Tank Company. The strike was the second wartime dispute for the fast-

91 Ibid., 15 July 1942.

92 Memorandum to the Department of Labour regarding Strike, National Steel Car, 26 April 1941, RG 7-

30-0-139, Department of Labour collection, AofO. 93

Ibid.; Hamilton Review, “Strike Settlement Promises Sound Labour Policy,” 2 May 1941. 94

Ibid.

240

growing company, as it transitioned from building bridges to making tanks. The first of these

strikes had been a one-day affair centred on wages. It involved only 60 men. It was quickly and

peacefully moved to conciliation with the help of an internal works committee.95

The second

strike was both longer and more contentious. No fewer than 800 men were involved this time,

with a full picketing crew able to cover all of the plant’s entrances.96

The company and union

remained so far apart on vital issues that it seemed unlikely any resolution would be reached

voluntarily through the conciliation board, especially with the union cancelling conferences they

felt favoured the company.97

Union recognition loomed as a central issue.98

The company

struggled to find men who were willing to cross the picket lines. Yet it was able to keep the

production line going.99

As the strike records show, the workers sustained their efforts using

money from the national union and funds collected from other unions and individuals. Mine

workers, wire workers, clothing workers and private individuals gave what they could to sustain

the strike.100

The strike was resolved through the combined efforts of the National War Labour

Board, company, and union on 29 July of 1943, with improvements to working conditions but no

official recognition of USWA 2537 as the workers’ bargaining unit.

Such long strikes as that at Hamilton Bridge, and dozens of shorter ones, demonstrated

that the old guard of labour, searching for order and governmental solutions, was losing power to

the new so-called American-style unions, willing to push and fight for change. The supposition

that soldiers abroad were counting on the men at home to keep up morale was not enough to keep

Hamilton’s men in the factories.101

Hamilton’s unhappy workers were tired of waiting for change

95 Hamilton Spectator, “Conciliation Board will Act as Men Return to their Jobs,” 8 May 1941.

96 Hamilton Spectator, “Strike Goes on with about 800 Men Still Idle,” 11 May 1943.

97 Hamilton Spectator, “Bridge Company Strike Persists, No End in Sight,” 14 May 1943.

98 Hamilton Spectator, “Strike Goes on with about 800 Men Still Idle,” 11 May 1943.

99 Hamilton Spectator, “To All Employees of the West End Plants of Hamilton Bridge Company Ltd., Who

Want to Work,” 14 May 1943. 100

Strike record for USWA 2537, beginning 16 May 1943, box 1, file 1, USWA Local 2537 fonds,

WRDARC. 101

Hamilton Spectator, “Housing Problem, Strikes, Soldiers’ Worst Worries,” 5 July 1943.

241

and trusted the unions to bring it about for them. In war-time there was a marked alteration of

tone, from old-style paternalism and “fair play” to a newer militancy and intransigence.

The political as well as organizational tone of the city was also shifting. As workers went

on strike, they also struck out against the Conservative Party apparatus that had so long controlled

the city and informed its captains of industry. Aside from Sam Lawrence’s victory, the CCF had

had little success in the city. It had declined as a force in civic politics and had failed to draw

much electoral or financial support from the workers. However, as the war persisted and

hardships eroded the workers’ spirits, the CCF began to attract new recruits. With promises that

included post-war full-employment, reduced electrical and food costs, more housing, and better

job protection, the CCF platform spoke to the immediate concerns of Hamilton’s growing blue-

collar population.102

The CCF’s policies appealed, for instance, to many letter writers to the

Spectator, who complained about rationing, rent increases and low pay. A man who identified

himself only as “Victim” complained about these wartime realities: “Mr. Editor, we are not all

making big money. In many cases we have the increased cost of living with no increase in salary.

It is also almost impossible to get a decent house to buy to suit the average working man, with the

prices having jumped upwards.”103

W.B. also wondered where the working-class family’s money

went:

There is no doubt that every one would like to purchase war savings stamps that

the experts advise in order to help our country with this war. But with rent so

high the wage-earners in this income group cannot possibly buy the amount

specified, although most of them are cutting down on all items in order to

purchase stamps. It seems to me that the welfare of our country at large should

be considered.104

While patriotic voices shouted these complaints down, the more critical voice of Charles Butters

of the Hamilton Socialist Party of Canada told the Spectator’s readers there were other options:

“If our ‘leisure class’ could be forced into productive occupations, into any sort of socially

102 Pamphlet, “What the CCF Will Do,” Spring 1943, box 1, file 13, George M.A. Grube Collection, QUA.

103 Victim, letter to the editor, “Renter Complains,” Hamilton Spectator, 28 March 1941.

104 W.B., letter to the editor, “Rents and Savings,” Hamilton Spectator, 2 February 1941.

242

necessary work, North America alone could out produce the combined slave labour of Europe

and the orient, and no seven-day work week would be required, nor any regimentation of

labour.”105

It was an economic message that had a new appeal.

The Progressive Conservatives recognized this threat and ran extensive attack campaigns

aimed at taking down the CCF. “All the social legislation on our statute books is no good,

according to the CCF,” ran an election ad in 1943, “despite the fact that Canada is one of the most

socialistic countries in the world. CCF’ers conveniently forget the marvelous progress this

country has made since Confederation under the leadership of the Conservatives and Liberals.”106

While the Liberal ads in the same provincial election dismissed the CCF as a non-concern, the

Conservative Party focused its campaign largely on it. The Spectator ran a biting editorial

alluding indirectly to CCFers as “hat and rabbit men,” “quacks and crackpots,” and “political

medicine men and charlatans,” intent on “setting class against class and undermining the

Canadian way of life.”107

Yet, as the CCF declared, following its 1943 victory in all four of

Hamilton’s provincial ridings, “people wanted a change,” especially in terms of economic policy,

and workers’ rights.108

CCF success reflected the concentrated effort it had poured into the

campaign. But it also signalled a more deep-seated shift. As the Spectator melodramatically

noted, “The election gives everyone something to think about… Socialism appears to be resolved

upon implanting more of itself into Canadian democracy and it rests with the people of this

Dominion to observe… political trends closely and decide how far the process should go.”109

The

Spectator was right in noting a change of tone. The city’s workers were through with giving more

and more of themselves for causes – “industry,” “the economy,” and “duty to nation” – that were

105 Charles Butters, letter to the editor, “Socialism’s Claims,” Hamilton Spectator, 26 November 1942.

106 Hamilton Spectator, election advertisement “Don’t Be Fooled By CCF, It Cannot Help Canadian

Workers,” 28 July 1943. 107

Hamilton Spectator, editorial, “Beware the magicians,” 24 July 1943. 108

Hamilton Spectator, “Successful Candidates See Victory as Tribute to Principles of CCF,” 5 August

1943. 109

Hamilton Spectator, editorial, “The Election,” 5 August 1943.

243

vague at best. They had indicated with their election of provincial CCF candidates that they

wanted more back.

Perhaps the most telling indication of the effect that this upheaval had on the city and its

culture was the civic election that followed shortly after the provincial elections. City councillors

had, for the most part and with varying degrees of plausibility, traditionally proclaimed their non-

partisan devotion to service. Now the CCF sweep of Hamilton’s provincial ridings raised the

prospect of a more party-oriented civic order. Attack ads, formerly allegedly frowned upon in

Hamilton politics, were launched against the CCF. The Conservative Spectator mounted its own

anti-CCF campaign:

The CCF Bloc are counting on the indifference of local citizens to ensure the

election of their candidates on December 6 – indifference among those

supporting the independent candidates, and the solid support of their own party

adherents… Alert electors, however, who are aroused by the implications of the

CCF bloc will make certain that those hopes are disappointed… Apathy helps to

make the road to power smoother for minority rule.110

Perhaps the Spectator’s worst fears were fulfilled with the electoral victory of Sam Lawrence for

Mayor that year over fellow Controller Donald Clarke. Though his majority was small, with

Lawrence beating his opponent by less than 2,000 votes, his was nonetheless a resounding

victory.111

However, in light of the defeat of nine other CCF candidates for council and the Board of

Control, it is important not to view his success entirely as a result of the same frustrations that fed

the groundswell of electoral success the CCF enjoyed provincially. The slate elected included the

traditional mixture of merchants, “gentlemen,” and salesmen who ran as independents.

110 Hamilton Spectator, editorial, “Apathy Helps Minorities,” 1 December 1943.

111 Hamilton Spectator, “Voters Make Sam Lawrence As Hamilton’s Next Mayor,” 7 December 1943. 50%

of Hamilton’s eligible voters voted, for a total of 46,586 votes polled in the mayoral contest. Lawrence

received 24,132 votes to Clarke’s 22,454. The race was very close in every one of the eight wards.

Lawrence led the polls in Wards Four through Eight, with his greatest majority in Ward Eight, beating his

opponent there by almost 2,700 votes. Prior to a redrawing of boundaries after the war, this ward included

the newly-absorbed Saltfleet township and the area most closely surrounding Hamilton’s harbour-front

factories.

244

Lawrence’s election in some ways adhered to well-laid patterns. Lawrence was the senior

controller and candidate, having served on council for almost 20 years interrupted only by his

stint in the legislature. Both Clarke and Lawrence highlighted their pedigree as labour men in

their campaign speeches. Clarke had been alderman in Ward Seven initially, a strong labour

riding in the city’s North End and he presented his independent platform as one that was “of

labour.” As he remarked, “I feel that I should not have received that vote of confidence if the

voters had not realized that I understood labour’s problems and dealt with them sympathetically

and energetically whenever the issues arose.”112

Lawrence’s victory suggested a changed

Hamilton; yet it took place in a city where traditional politics were still strongly influenced by its

labourist traditions.

By the end of the war, the city of Hamilton had been transformed in nearly every way

possible. It had expanded geographically. It had changed in its demographic make-up to include a

larger group of industrial workers as permanent citizens of a city whose population had grown by

a third. Its factories were now largely organized by CIO unions such as the USWA and the UEW.

The divide between blue collar and white collar work was breaking down, with even the civic

employees organized under the Local 5 of the Canadian Union of Public Employees (CUPE). It

was politically represented by a novel mix of Liberal and CCF politicians federally and

provincially. Much of the city was hungry, lacked homes, and endured grievous traffic problems.

Labour’s biggest fights for collective bargaining’s expansion and the right to organize in the

city’s factories were still to come. Hamilton was indeed changing. As the veterans returned home,

further transformation were on the horizon.

112 Hamilton Spectator, “Clarke, Lawrence Contest Mayoralty, Nine for Board,” 26 November 1943.

245

Chapter 8: Heating up the Hamilton Summer: Post-War Optimism and

the 1946 Strikes

By all accounts, Hamilton’s boosters, politicians, historians, and many of its citizens

anticipated 1946 with great optimism. The year marked the city’s centenary. An all-inclusive

week-long celebration was in the works for Dominion Day week, at the height of the summer,

and a year after the war’s end. Such Hamiltonians expected that the story of 1946 would be one

of an upward progression. These hopes were best embodied by the 1946 promotional film The

Portrait of a City, which echoed the 1929 narratives of a community in which the rich and poor

alike were united in pursuit of the common goal of building the City Beautiful. Paid for by the

Industrial and Convention committee, the film presented a convincing image of the Hamilton its

civic leaders cherished.1 Featuring cheerful actors standing in as Hamilton’s workers, sailors,

farmers, shoppers, and general citizens, the 22-minute film reflected the optimism of a city

proudly celebrating its centenary. This “centennial portrait of the city” described it as a “great

Canadian metropolis.” Hamilton was a “friendly” city with beautiful landscapes, a rich history, a

“total absence of slum districts,” and happy workers. The film showcased scenic views of the

escarpment, the harbour front, its parks and gardens, the Niagara fruit belt, and downtown. The

alleged real workers of the city featured in the film spoke of its industrial successes, advantageous

location, and convenient commuting. They obviously did not mention the labour discontent that

had been bubbling since the Second World War or Hamilton’s ongoing and troubling housing

shortages.

The National Film Board’s 1997 film Defying the Law tells the story of a different

Hamilton in 1946, one that has become familiar to Canadian labour historians and activists alike.2

Instead of portraying a city on the brink of joyfully celebrating its centennial, the NFB told the

1 Clark, Portrait of a City.

2 Fudge and Tucker, Labour Before the Law; McInnis, Harnessing Labour Confrontation, 103; Storey,

“Workers, Unions and Steel,” 297-418.

246

story of Hamilton’s workers fighting for their rights to organization and representation over the

course of a summer-long, 80-day strike involving over 10,000 men in workplaces across the city.3

Three of the city’s largest factories, Westinghouse, Stelco, and Firestone Canada, saw prolonged

strikes and public discussions of collective bargaining that stretched from June until October. The

image of the strike was amplified on 2 June when Spectator typesetters walked out of the

workplace as well, visually changing the front page news for the day. The NFB’s Hamilton – a

strike-torn city with gritty factories, determined picket lines, and angry militants – was as

different as one could imagine from the “City Beautiful” of the Chamber of Commerce.

These two representations of Hamilton in 1946 present a striking indication of the ways

in which that year was imagined and how it turned out in the end. They also provide an excellent

opportunity for beginning an analysis of post-war class and political warfare in the city. While

class tensions engulfed Stelco, Canadian Westinghouse Co., Firestone Canada, and The Hamilton

Spectator itself, centennial celebrations went ahead as planned. Hamilton’s then-mayor Sam

Lawrence walked the picket lines and led rallies of workers and veterans. On the other side of the

debate sat the supposedly apolitical Nora-Frances Henderson. The long-serving politician was the

Board of Control member who had received the most votes in the last election. She was the top

Controller and sometimes even served as acting Mayor. She rallied the population of

Hamiltonians who wanted to remain aloof from the strike, the city’s middle-class boosters and

retailers. She also symbolized, for the proportionally growing number of strike-breakers and their

families, the ideas that had once been key tenets of the city’s government.4 Now such ideals

seemed, suddenly, to be those of a minority. Much as these two politicians had represented two

3 Defying the Law. Marta Nielsen Hastings and Richard Nielsen, directors (1997; Ottawa, ON: National

Film Board of Canada, 1997), videocassette. 4 John C. Weaver, in his study of the criminal justice system in Hamilton, suggests that law enforcement in

the city was generally representative of other urban centres in Canada during the time period he studied. He

suggests that crime and criminal justice largely outside the municipal purview and so were largely dictated

by other jurisdictions. While strikes such as this one may seem to be the exception to this trend, Weaver

suggests they were handled in a similar way to other similarly sized strikes across the province. Weaver,

Crimes, Constables, and Courts, 8-18, 172-5.

247

opposing schools of thought on supporting the unemployed during the Depression, they now

embodied starkly divergent visions of Hamilton’s postwar situation – and not just with reference

to the strike. They also articulated very different positions on civic citizenship, the “public good,”

the lines separating workers and strike-breakers, and the new definitions of liberalism in post-war

Hamilton.

Suddenly neither Hamilton’s political nor its industrial order seemed stable. The crisis-

ridden year of 1946 also delivered the final blow to the traditional labour alternatives formerly

dominant in the city, as multi-national CIO unions took over from their once-powerful AFL-

affiliated competitors. This division in the house of labour was emphasized by the new role

played by Hamilton’s former labour hero of old, Humphrey Mitchell. He was now positioned

opposite the strikers as William Lyon Mackenzie King’s Minister of Labour, tasked with

orchestrating the speedy return of the workers to their places of employment. Mitchell drew

attention, by his words and his very presence, to the drastic differences that now separated an old,

reputable labour man like himself from the militant architects of the city’s explosive fourteen-

week strike. The craft unions had lost their influence to the multi-trade factory unions, now able

to provide order “without the rigid distinctions of craft exclusivity.”5 Their strength in numbers

had exploded during wartime organizing drives.6 The workers who flocked to the city’s

expanding mass-production industries were now much more prominent. Having tripled in size

over the course of the war, unions like the USWA and UEW had well-established bases in the

post-war era, from which they continued their fights for recognition and workers’ rights.

Unresolved wartime issues – housing shortages, cost-of-living increases, and inadequate wages –

meant that these unions had many grievances upon which they could mobilize.

The famous strikes of 1946 might seem to undermine this study’s persistent argument

about the widespread cross-class acceptance of Hamilton’s conservative liberal tradition, insofar

5 McInnis, Harnessing Labour Confrontation, 43.

6 Ibid., 42-5.

248

as they represented occasions on which the city was polarized on class lines. In fact this ‘hot

summer’ of labour activism revealed how many working-class Hamiltonians remained attached to

this tradition, and how quickly many of them who had seemingly moved away from it returned to

conservative liberalism once the conflict was over. This chapter will examine the transition from

centennial fever to a summertime conflict. The city’s Conservative politicians had long asserted

the virtues of duty, service, and self-sacrifice. Many of these values were also touted when they

observed the great events of 1946 – both the city’s centennial and its explosive class conflict. Yet

in 1946 this language of civic belonging came to contain contradictory dialects, ones that at times

seemed mutually incomprehensible. To the apostles of order, the centennial celebrations – with

their discourses of progress, nationalism, and empire – captured the “eternal Hamilton” with

which they identified. To the social activists and newly powerful unionists in the city, it was the

strike wave in Hamilton’s hot summer of 1946 that spoke to the city’s true values. They believed

themselves to be the exemplars of a truer Hamilton, a labour city with a well-organized and

vibrant working class, pioneering new forms of democracy and solidarity in a progressive

postwar Canada.

Hotly Anticipated, Debatably Successful: Hamilton Faces its Centennial

Hamilton’s centennial was much anticipated by politicians, boosters, businessmen and

citizens alike across the city. At the start of the year, even Marxist Mayor Lawrence struck a

positive note in his inaugural address. His reflections included a list of the six city mayors still

living and their great accomplishments in the city’s history. He reserved his warmest praise for

those whom he singled out for their support for the working man, especially his immediate

predecessor William Morrison, who had retired to become Chairman of the Workmen’s

Compensation Board. He graciously acknowledged his erstwhile opponent, a man whose role in

restoring public workers’ salaries and services to the city had won him “great public favour” and

249

helped restore prosperity to the city.7 Lawrence concluded his speech with a salute to the city’s

centennial: the popular movement had drawn in “hundreds of public-spirited citizen… at work

developing programs which, I feel, will appeal to everyone… I extend my sincere appreciation

for their efforts.”8

Preparations began for the centennial well before the events themselves were finalized.

The Spectator started the scolding early, kicking off the New Year with a stern warning to the

citizens of the city that in a centennial year, appearances were everything. “People who write off

a seeming indifference to the city’s appearance – which is surely of enormous importance – to a

mill town mentality do not get us very far,” it sternly warned those in power:

It is our hundredth birthday and it will be the desire more than ever of Hamilton

to put on a better front than it has been able to do for a long time… It is one

thing to play safe with the voters; it is quite another to guide them to a new

feeling of pride in their city, and a pride to which a city of the size and

importance of Hamilton is entitled. This is a good time… some remedial action,

on the look of the city.9

This stern reprimand was plainly aimed at the city’s labour mayor - with whom the paper had

predictably developed an acrimonious relationship. The Spectator was reminding Hamiltonians of

old notions of duty, ones that far transcended the narrow class loyalties it often attributed to

Lawrence. A comic published four days later drove the message home, featuring a shabbily

dressed man labelled “City of Hamilton” considering buying a shiny new suit labelled “Civic

Pride in Our City’s Appearance.”10

Beginning in April, as spring came upon the city, the citizens and Parks Board of the city

began extensive work sprucing up its public spaces. Many visitors, even ones from distant parts,

were expected. This urban uplift campaign included the complete redesign of Montgomery Park

7 Samuel Lawrence, Mayor, inaugural address, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1946,

Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1946 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1947), 7 January 1946. 8 Ibid.

9 Hamilton Spectator, “The Look of the City,” 4 January 1946.

10 Hamilton Spectator, comic, “It Would Make a Nice Gift for His Birthday,” 8 January 1946. Emphasis in

the original.

250

with newly-planted trees and shrubs, some of them in new formal gardens, and the construction

of playing fields.11

Civic Stadium was refurbished. A new baseball stadium was also added to

accommodate soft and hardball tournaments. The city’s police were urged to ensure that the city’s

clean-up campaign proceeded with zeal.12

In spite of the cooperation of “hundreds and hundreds

of citizens,” the streets of the city seemed to go from “spick-and-span” to “untidy” overnight,

with the works department describing the “almost unbelievable the amount of cigarette boxes,

etc., tissue paper, old newspapers and other debris collected from the streets in one day.”13

To put

a halt to such littering the police were asked to “strictly enforce the by-law.”14

As Controller Weir

remarked, “We do not want visitors coming into Hamilton during the centennial and finding our

streets dirty.”15

The Hamilton centennial Committee planned a full week of activities, starting on

Dominion Day, to celebrate the city. They included several parades, a full-week sports program,

the Miss Canada Pageant, numerous exhibitions of arts and handicrafts known in the region, and

concerts and revues meant to represent the artistic merits of the city. Organizers were divided into

the Sports Committee, the National Groups Section, and the Centennial Committee itself,

responsible for dealing with arts and heritage activities. The Miss Canada contest, sponsored by

the Hamilton Police Amateur Association and the Hamilton Centennial Week Committee, proved

to be the biggest disappointment, because the Hamilton contestant came second.16

Otherwise, the

activities lived up to their intended purpose of providing a week of frivolity and fun for the city’s

citizens, reflecting the light-hearted tone for which the committee had striven.

A sports program offered competitions for men women and children in everything from

yachting at the centennial Regatta, golf, weightlifting, track and field, angling, tennis, softball,

11 Hamilton Spectator, “East End Park Being Improved and Beautified,” 12 April 1946.

12 Hamilton Spectator, “May Seek Action By Police in Keeping Streets Clean,” 29 April 1946.

13 Ibid.

14 Ibid.

15 Ibid.

16 Hamilton Spectator, “Ontario Beauty Queen Crowned,” 5 July 1946.

251

down to even checkers and bicycling.17

Historical commemorative activities loomed large in the

centennial celebration. These included the production of a souvenir historical program and an

historical pageant highlighting key moments in the city from its formation to the present. Even

corporations got in on the excitement, with both T. Eaton Co. and Westinghouse publishing self-

aggrandizing commemorative issues of their employee publications that focused on the history of

their enterprises in the city.18

“Conservative Hamilton will be turned into a vast carnival-town,

rivalling the Mardi Gras, during the centennial Week,” The Eaton’s Hamilton Bi-Weekly

crowed.19

But the grand event would also serve as a learning opportunity for Eaton’s employees:

“One just has to take a hurried glance back over Hamilton’s history to realize that the past century

has been filled with achievements of which we may all be proud.”20

Firsts that Eaton’s thought

Hamilton could highlight included the organization of Canada’s (and perhaps the continent’s)

first insurance company, the Canada Life Assurance Company; the first telephone exchange in all

of the British Empire; the construction of the first sleeping car; and the births of both Canadian

Club and Women’s Institute movements that afterwards attained Canada-wide renown.21

“One Hundred Years of Progress,” boasted the subtitle of Hamilton’s centennial

publication in gold lettering, ornamented with an embossed picture of Gore Park’s three-tiered

fountain.22

And indeed, to read the publication one would think the city had barely seen a cloudy

day in its last 100 years. The contents of The Hamilton Centennial, 1846-1946 lay out a clear

17 “Hamilton Centennial Tentative Sports Program,” July 1946, Hamilton Centennial Collection, HPL.

18 “Company Grew From Small Beginnings,” Westinghouse Employees Magazine 4, no. 4 (June 1946),

box 7, file 17, Westinghouse Canada fonds, WRDARC; Centennial Edition, Eaton’s Hamilton Bi-Weekly,

no. 243 (22 July 1946), F 229-141, Eaton’s Employee Magazine Fonds, AofO. 19

“Hamilton Makes Plans for Centennial,” Eaton’s Hamilton Bi-Weekly, no. 240 (13 May 1946): 1-4, F

229-141, Eaton’s Employee Magazine Fonds, AofO. 20

Ibid. 21

Ibid. 22

H.V. Nelles explored the importance of nation-building historical themes in commemorative events in

Quebec during its tercentenary. As Nelles explains, such events were “built on the dual propositions that

history would make a nation and that history could best be understood as a performance.” Much like in the

case of Hamilton, Nelles argues that in the case of the tercentenary accuracy was less important than

narrative flow and the presentation of a message about a progressive, and progressing, culture. The idea of

future success was paramount to the themes of both pageants. H.V. Nelles, The Art of Nation-Building:

Pageantry and Spectacle at Quebec’s Tercentenary (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 200), 11-17.

252

narrative of progress, written by the select few citizens who could be entrusted with the narration

of its past. It included contributions from both its traditional and new cultural guides, drawing

from the church, the press, the popular historians, and the new academics. Charles R.

McCullough, former president of the Chamber of Commerce and Director of Works at Stelco

provided the initial chapter on the arrival of the First Nations peoples, then the French, then the

Scots, and finally the triumphant Loyalists.23

His inclusion in the publication reinforced the strong

role that Hamilton’s middle-class business elites continued to play in shaping the city’s narrative

of its past. The historians – some amateur boosters like Mabel Burkholder and Marjorie Freeman

Campbell, some educators, and one academic – then told a story of a city that had progressed

from pioneer beginnings to modern metropolis, under the guidance of its foresighted Anglo

leaders.

This story was restated for all the public to see in the grand 1 July parade. As the floats

progressed down the city’s streets, the parade also told the story of the city’s transition from the

wilds to dazzling civilization. It was a narrative that culminated in the triumph of the City

Beautiful, a metropolis of opportunity. Historical floats included an old stage coach meant to

illustrate the city’s humble origins, and a steam engine that graphically demonstrated Hamilton’s

progress within a more connected world.24

The passing moment of the parade was complemented

by a three-night historical pageant. The show, held at the city’s Amateur Athletics Association

grounds, featured 1,000 performers. Samuel Lawrence himself was also present.25

The story,

much like the centennial book, progressed from La Salle’s first steps on to the shores of

Burlington Bay, through George Hamilton’s brave settlement of the area and Sir Allan MacNab’s

great dances, to the present mayor’s leadership during the war. Everyone from sports stars to

23 Alexander H. Wingfield, editor, The Hamilton Centennial, 1846-1946 (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton

Centennial Committee, 1946) 11-20, box 10, file 3, J. Wreford Watson fonds, WRDARC. 24

Hamilton Spectator, “Centennial Celebration,” 2 July 1946; Hamilton Spectator, “Centennial

Celebration,” 3 July 1946 25

Hamilton Spectator, “Historic Show Day’s Feature,” 3 July 1946.

253

women’s groups, not to speak of many mayors, had their part in a pageant that would

“undoubtedly prove to be one of the centennial highlights.”26

Even companies like Eaton’s got in

on the historical re-enactment trend, with elevator girls wearing historically inspired three-tiered,

puff-sleeved, high-necked dresses in the Centennial’s colours of black and yellow, thus paying

tribute to the city’s “bygone days.”27

Eaton’s windows depicted proud moments in the city’s past

and scenes of high society boasting of centennial fashions; its front hall contained a Visitors’

Information Booth, all the better to serve the shopping tourists.28

Figure 9: The Eaton's of Hamilton float in the centennial parade, featuring a large birthday cake and women

in hoop skirts, Hamilton, 1 July 1946. Source: Black Mount collection, PreView image collection, HPL.

Reproduced courtesy of Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library.

26 Ibid.

27 Centennial Edition, Eaton’s Hamilton Bi-Weekly, F 229-141, Eaton’s Employee Magazine fonds.

28 Ibid.

254

Figure 10: Eaton's Employees after the parade in historical costumes, Hamilton, 1 July 1946. Source:

PreView image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Hamilton Spectator Collection, Hamilton Public

Library.

Some felt the centennial had missed the mark on the historical components it had

represented. Trustee Dr. Harry Palkin submitted two notices of motion to the Board of Education

in which he expressed his dismay at the lack of historical content in the programming,

specifically as related to labour history. The first resolution decried the closing of city streets to

facilitate such moral hazards as gambling and also critiqued the “paucity of educational and

historical exhibits” at the centennial street festival.29

The second spoke to a larger deficit in

provincial education:

Because of the role played by labour in the development of Canada and because

of labour’s incalculable contribution in the winning of the war, and because of

the increasingly important part labour occupies in the life of our country, we,

the Hamilton Board of Education, request the Ontario Department of Education

to institute into the curriculum of our secondary schools a course in the “The

History of the Labour Movement.”30

29 Hamilton Spectator, “City’s Conduct of Centennial Under Protest,” 19 July 1946.

30 Ibid.

255

While neither of Palkin’s motions passed at the next meeting, indicating that they were not

sentiments that were generally shared by the city’s Board of Education, they do indicate that

some within the city were not content with the tale of the past that the city’s Centennial

Committee had created. It was a tale that was heavy on hoop skirts and grand floats, but light on

labour and a critical stance with respect to the city’s history.

One important theme of the centennial celebrations was that new Canadians were now to

be valued. For a city that had struggled so much throughout the Depression with its position on

immigration, the centennial broadcast the message that not only were immigrants welcome, but

they now contributed a colourful, if still separate, thread in the city’s tapestry. These “national

groups” were prominently in evidence in the so-called “Mammoth Parade” held on 1 July. The

parade represented a curious amalgamation of Hamilton’s past, its present, its voluntary

organizations, its politicians, and its service groups.31

The National Groups Section’s program

boasted that “Twenty-Eight Ethnic Groups will participate,” including representatives from the

city’s Scottish, Polish, Hungarian, Chinese and Slovakian communities.32

Also included among

these groups were the city’s Six Nations, “Negro,” and French Canadian communities. From the

Dutch to the Chinese, the national groups participated in the parade in full national costume and

marched separately from the historical narrative section of the parade. They were thus both in and

yet not quite included in the Hamilton story. At the grand conclusion to the pageant, 33 of the

members of the national group became naturalized citizens when they were presented with their

final certificates of naturalization in a “unique” ceremony conducted by Paul Martin Sr., then

Secretary of State, on the stage of the Savoy theatre.33

This ceremony reminded all assembled that

there was a greater goal in life than being a mere member of an ethnic group – that of finally

31 Pamphlet, “National Groups Section, Hamilton Centennial Celebrations, July 1

st to July 6

th 1946,” June

and July 1946, Hamilton Centennial Collection, HPL. 32

Ibid. 33

Hamilton Spectator, “History-Making Ceremony,” 8 July 1946; Hamilton Spectator, “New Canadians

Star at Savoy,” 8 July 1946.

256

becoming Canadian. Speaking of the newly-passed citizenship bill, which finally gave a legal, not

just honorific, status to the title of Canadian citizen, Martin mentioned in two sentences the

paradox these ethnic groups felt: “We as Canadians, as a great country in the British

Commonwealth and empire, should tell the world of our faith in ourselves. No country can show

faith in itself until its people feel they belong equally.”34

Figure 11: The "Indian Village" set up for the centennial celebrations as part of the “National Section,”

Hamilton, 1 July 1946. Source: PreView image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Hamilton

Spectator Collection, Hamilton Public Library.

Figure 12: Three Dutch girls in their national costumes after the National Section displays, 1 July 1946.

Source: PreView image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Hamilton Spectator Collection, Hamilton

Public Library.

34 Hamilton Spectator, “New Canadians Star at Savoy,” 8 July 1946.

257

Figure 13: The Greek float in the National Section of the centennial Parade, Hamilton, 1 July 1946. The

signs read “Rule Britannia,” and “Birth of Democracy.” The float itself features a mock Acropolis, people

in togas with olive leaf crowns, and people in national costumes. Source: Black Mount collection, PreView

image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library.

While the centennial with its inspiring narratives served as an important touchstone for

the city’s boosters, it also presented an opportunity to bring Hamiltonians together around a

single theme: the greatness of their city. Such events were thought to provide inclusive,

uncontroversial statements about Hamilton. Everyone was mentioned – even those identified with

its factories (although workers as workers were conspicuous by their absence). “Back-to-

Hamilton Clubs” solicited visitors to the city from Chicago, Detroit, Rochester, Cleveland,

Buffalo, New York City, Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa, Brantford, Guelph, Kitchener, Windsor and

St. Catharines.35

Many from England sent letters of regret.36

The emphasis on creating a

distinguished yet welcoming community of Hamiltonians was also underscored at the new City

35 “Hamilton Makes Plans,” Eaton’s Hamilton Bi-Weekly, F 229-141, Eaton’s Employee Magazine fonds.

36 Hamilton Spectator, “Will Publicize City Centennial in U.S. Centres,” 15 March 1946.

258

Planning Exhibition, which included a model that occupied a place of pride on the fourth floor of

Robinson’s Department store. This imagined city was the antithesis of a wartime Hamilton

crowded with immigrants. This city’s citizens were to be gifted with a “better life.”37

This city

would be one where equality reigned through the improvement of “blighted areas.” In the

imagined Hamilton, one found suburbs “with winding streets to discourage traffic,” and parks and

shopping centres where the citizens could gather. From the track meets to the parade, the events

all boasted of their inclusive nature and their appeal to all Hamiltonians.38

An important part of this sense of unity was the special relationship that the city’s

founding families and established British descendants felt the city cherished with its British past

and British present. From the IODE float to the historical narrative created in the city’s grand

pageant, all of these events reinforced what had once been the prominent narrative in the city: the

idea that Hamilton was culturally great because it was so full of British people and thus so close

to the Empire. This theme was strongly drummed home by the perceived importance of having

the best representative of Empire available in the city that week. The presence of the Governor-

General also provided a visible and ceremonial tie between the city and empire. Field Marshal

Viscount Alexander was the closest thing to monarchy in Canada and in these days his attendance

at events was the highest honour a city could receive.39

His vice-regal approval was evident in the

praise he doled out to the city’s organizers and participants on a daily basis, as he observed the

proceedings from first to last. His picture was even on the first page of the centennial publication,

looking boldly forward in his heavily-decorated military uniform. Hamiltonians were not just to

37 Hamilton Spectator, advertisement, “A New Hamilton is in the Making,” 16 March 1946.

38 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflection on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism, New

Edition (London: Verso, 2006) 2-9; Eric Hobsbawm, “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” The Invention

of Tradition, Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger, eds. (Cambridge, United Kingdom: Cambridge

University Press, 2012) 1-14. 39

Hamilton Spectator, “Alexander May Open City’s Centennial Show,” 5 March 1946.

259

be proud of its “solid reputation among the cities of Canada,” they should also be pleased that

they lived in a truly Loyalist city.40

The last thirty pages of Hamilton’s centennial book were devoted, tellingly enough, to the

corporate sector. The city’s employers hastened to embrace the progressive City Beautiful and

reveal just how essential they had been to its glowing success. As the Dominion Foundries and

Steel Limited’s ad demonstrated, they saw themselves to be vital parts of the city’s past:

Greatest of all our gifts is that freedom won for us by our forefathers and held

for us against all tyranny, by the courage of our youth. In freedom our

community has grown from a village to the great city it is today. In freedom our

industries have expanded to provide all Canada and a great portion of the world

with an ever-growing wealth of goods and an ever-higher standard of living. As

Hamilton goes forward into her second century of progress, the men and

women of Dominion Foundries and Steel Limited look forward to playing their

part in the great future of our city, and our country.41

Dominion Foundries and Steel Limited’s sentiment was echoed throughout these 30 pages. The

people had been given a peaceable democratic kingdom that had been maintained by good,

faithful municipal public servants. In that realm industry had flourished. So had the people. Free

enterprise and free people were bound together in a mutually enriching relationship. The city’s

leading lights sought to inculcate the new generation of Hamiltonians in the myths of its

founding. Such myths fiercely drove home not just the city’s role in the Dominion, but also its

continued home in the Empire.

40 Wingfield, The Hamilton Centennial, 3, 9, box 10, file 3, J. Wreford Watson fonds, WRDARC.

41 Ibid.

260

Figure 14: The Stelco float in the centennial parade. It depicts part of the company’s foundries and the

banner reads "Building a Greater Hamilton," Hamilton, 1946. Source: Black Mount collection, PreView

image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library.

“A Newspaper Serving a Free People:” When Labour Strife Hit the News

Just as the centennial activities were coming to a head, Hamiltonians received a dramatic

reminder delivered right to their very doorstep of the conflicting stances of labour and industry in

the city. Previous interpretations of the strikes of 1946 have focused on their importance in

establishing and enshrining the collective bargaining process as part of Canadian labour law.42

However, outside the working-class social histories of the events, their social and political

context in the growing city has largely been overlooked.43

42 Cuthbertson, Labour Goes to War; Fudge and Tucker, Labour Before the Law; McInnis, Harnessing

Labour Confrontation; Storey, “Workers, Unions and Steel.” 43

Craig Heron, Working in Steel: the Early Years in Canada, 1883-1935 (Toronto: University of Toronto

Press, 1988); Bryan D. Palmer, Working-Class Experience: the Rise and Reconstitution of Canadian

Labour, 1800-1980 (Toronto: Butterowrth, 1983); Wayne Roberts, “Baptism of a Union: the Stelco Strike

of 1946,” (Ph.D. Dissertation, McMaster University, 1981); Storey, “Workers, Unions and Steel.”

261

On 2 June 1946 The Spectator resembled something closer to a crafter’s scrapbook than a

professional and polished newspaper. The ill-spaced, crudely formatted type recalled that of a

typewriter, not a linotype. The columns were overlapping, uneven, and divided by thick, ruled

lines only. Pictures looked as if they had either been pasted directly into the columns, or were

given rounded edges, adding even further to the publication’s homemade atmosphere. The

Spectator’s typographical union, International Typographical Union Local 129, had gone on

strike – and it showed.44

The Spectator’s editors waxed eloquent:

It is quite content to leave [the issue of the strike] to the highest of all tribunals

– that of the public. [The facts] will be challenged and distorted; the newspaper

slandered. We expect that. It is all part of a bigger issue than the strike itself…

Things have already been said, and published, by certain interests against this

paper. There will be more. It is no use for us to say they are untrue… If we did

not therefore try to publish for the public of Hamilton, in a case where there has

been no valid charge laid against this newspaper, we would not be worthy of

our trust. We would not be a newspaper as we like to think of a newspaper,

serving a free people. We only ask our public – whose will is bound to

dominate over the underhand attackers against popular rights – to think of the

gains to unscrupulous enemies of freedom in shutting off all channels of

information but their own.45

At issue, in addition to the very survival of “popular rights,” were the newspaper’s job rate, the

union’s pursuit of a solid 40-hour-and five-day work week, the high pressure nature of the work

environment, and the modernization of the workplace.46

Despite union protests, the Spectator was

able to fill its print shop relatively quickly with strike-breakers willing to do the work, and within

the month the only scars left on the paper by the strike were a new page configuration entailing

larger, wider columns, rather than the narrow ones that had appeared prior to the strike.47

44 Canada, House of Commons Debates (4 June 1946), p. 2153-4 (The Honourable Humphrey Mitchell,

Minister of Labour) 45

Hamilton Spectator, “The Right to Speak,” 2 June 1946. 46

Open Letter to the Membership of the ITU Local 129 regarding the strike, 26 September 1951, F 1275-1,

Hamilton Typographical Union (Local 129) fonds, AofO; Transcript of radio presentation on CHML

regarding the strike, 21 April 1953, F 1275-3, Hamilton Typographical Union (Local 129) fonds, AofO. 47

Open letter to ITU unions in North America regarding hiring strike-breakers from the Spectator, 19 April

1949, F 1275-1, Hamilton Typographical Union (Local 129) fonds, AofO; Open letter to ITU unions in

North America regarding hiring strike-breakers from the Spectator, 29 April 1949, F 1275-1, Hamilton

Typographical Union (Local 129) fonds, AofO; Open letter to ITU unions in North America regarding

262

Headlines, photos, and typesetting rapidly returned to normal and soon the only remnants of the

strike were the picket lines outside the Spectator’s production facilities.

Unlike the other strikes that would hit Hamilton that summer, this one would remain

unresolved into the twenty-first century. As strike funds dwindled and the numbers of strike-

breakers increased, the strike began to lose its direction.48

In 1947, strikers formed the Hamilton

News to provide employment for themselves and inspiration for those looking to an alternative to

the Spectator. In the News, they argued, Hamiltonians might find a paper pursing “a policy of

independence [and] integrity,” one that exercised “freedom of conscience” to stand up for the

“interest of the common wealth… regardless of whose toes are stepped upon.”49

The ITU Local 129 strike served as a shot across the bow at old industry as the unions of

Hamilton lashed back against the repressive war-time legislation they felt had tied them to poor

wages, long hours, and trying work conditions. The cohesive “Hamilton” so warmly imagined in

the centennial celebrations was suddenly confronted with its class-based nemesis.

The Summer of Strikes: The City Confronts the Differences Between Industry and Workers

The war years had been rough for workers in steel working and manufacturing. Many

felt disenfranchised by the very legislation meant to provide them with opportunities to negotiate

at the bargaining table. They felt that their working conditions and real wages had been

deteriorating for almost two decades. USWA Local 1005 at Stelco and the UEW Local 504 at the

large Westinghouse plant had been in negotiations with management throughout the war,

addressing issues such as union recognition, equalizing wages across both massive plants, and a

more equitable description of the jobs within them. However, even by 1946, many of these

hiring strike-breakers from the Spectator, 9 November 1949, F 1275-1, Hamilton Typographical Union

(Local 129) fonds, AofO. 48

Open Letter to the Membership of the ITU Local 129 regarding the strike and the need for picketers, 26

June 1951, F 1275-1, Hamilton Typographical Union (Local 129) fonds, AofO. 49

Hamilton News, “Introduction,” 23 September 1947.

263

concerns remained unresolved and the unions began petitioning the government to fix a broken

and unfair system. The Federal Minister of Labour, Humphrey Mitchell, began his Hamilton

involvement as early as March of that year. The USWA had been lobbying the government since

the war’s end for wage increases as the steel industry transitioned from wartime pricing and

production to post-war profits and manufacturing.50

While Mitchell had remained informed of the

situation and the USWA repeatedly requested that he convene a national conference of steel

manufacturers and the USWA on the wages issue, he felt that negotiations were best left to the

individual companies, the War Labour Board, and the workers.

Mitchell’s return to politics, first as the chairman of the National War Labour Board and

later as Minister of Labour and an elected parliamentarian for the Liberal Party in Welland,

transformed his image. He was no longer the voice of labour for the city; he was instead firmly

behind the Liberal government and its labour plans. “Those who used the hustings as the parade

ground of their ill-will towards the Prime Minister sought through this by-election to shatter our

confidence in Canada,” Mitchell proclaimed in his inaugural speech. “The Voice of Welland has

spoken for unity and loyalty to the skipper on the bridge.”51

The Liberal Party’s choice of

Welland for Mitchell’s by-election run was partly coincidental because the long-held Liberal

riding’s vacancy was made possible by the death of its incumbent, A.B. Damude. However,

Mitchell’s election in a much more rural riding was also suggestive of his political transformation

from ILPer to Liberal. He himself admitted that he had arrived in the riding “a stranger in the

political sense.”52

No longer the active, albeit always quite conservative, labour fighter Mitchell

was now legislating from above, and seen as responsible for many unpopular decisions.

50 Canada, House of Commons Debates (4 April 1946), p. 545 (The Honorable Humphrey Mitchell,

Minister of Labour). 51

Hamilton Spectator, “Humphrey Mitchell is Named War Labour Board Chairman,” 19 November 1941;

Hamilton Spectator, “General Approval voiced as Mitchell Named Minister,” 15 December 1941;

Hamilton Spectator, “Canadian Conservative Leader is Beaten by CCF Candidate; Humphrey Mitchell is

Returned,” 10 February 1942. 52

Ibid.

264

Mitchell’s new role as Minister of Labour won him few friends, either from business or

from the working class. His role in the ongoing labour disputes in Hamilton cemented his

repositioning. Mitchell found himself reframed in the eyes of strikers as the enemy. Without

government intervention, USWA Local 1005 and Stelco’s management had been in almost

perpetual negotiations, even prior to the union’s formal recognition within the plant in February

1944 negotiated by the War Labour Board.53

The USWA even had a member who sat in on

meetings of the company’s own internal works organization. These negotiations proceeded at a

halting pace as the company and the union tried to settle on a collective agreement. Labour

tensions had already resulted in a twelve-hour work stoppage on 1 November 1945, after the

company had yet again failed to ratify a collective agreement and had significantly delayed

meetings pertaining to it.54

By the summer of 1946, the union was increasingly frustrated with the

slowness of negotiations and by repeated interventions from both the National and Ontario War

Labour Boards.

As spring progressed, negotiations proceeded haltingly. The union was seeking wage

increases, the right to bargain on the workers’ behalf, better seniority rights, and more vacations.

They argued that after a war filled with sacrifice for them and profits for the company, Stelco

could easily afford such concessions. Company President H.G. Hilton countered these statements

with open letters depicting the company’s situation from his perspective. Basing his calculations

on Depression-era production figures, he claimed that the company was not as profitable as many

people imagined. “No self-respecting person will permit himself to be called a liar, as I have been

in the past week, and not state his case fully to men with whom he has worked for many years

53 Memorandum regarding vote held by Labour Court at Steel Company of Canada, February 1944, RG 7-

30-0-346, Department of Labour fonds, AofO. 54

Memorandum to J.B. Metzler from Louis Fine, Chief Conciliation Officer, regarding Steel Company of

Canada Canada Works work stoppage. 8 November 1945, RG 7-30-0-745, Department of Labour fonds,

AofO.

265

and whose respect as a square-shooter he values,” Hilton told his employees.55

On 11 July 1946,

the union announced that negotiations had collapsed yet again and that following a successful

strike ballot of Stelco workers that had passed with an 80% majority, it felt ready and entitled to

go on strike.56

In spite of Order-in-Council 2901, which directed the workers to stay on the job,

the union refused to allow its activities to be halted by the threats of financial penalties and

imprisonment mentioned in the order.57

Since the union’s workers, defying the Order-in-Council,

would not be legislated back to work they proceeded forward with plans for a now illegal strike

on 14 July 1946. The factory was put under the control of F.B. Kilbourn, a controller appointed

by the government to ensure the plant continued running and to resolve the dispute.58

The strike

lasted all summer, leaving a lasting legacy on Hamilton’s industrial landscape.59

Following the successful strike vote at Stelco’s Hamilton works, Westinghouse’s workers

held their own strike vote. Westinghouse’s internal union, the UEW Local 504/505, had seen

ongoing wartime labour disputes, though none as long and fierce as that at National Steel Car.

War labour boards, both provincial and federal, had worked to create war-time industrial peace.

Yet many issues remained unresolved in 1946. And so while the Company magazine bragged of

Westinghouse’s role in Hamilton’s century of progress, its own workers were seemingly moving

in a more critical direction.60

At the end of a three-day ballot, 3,469 out of the 3,573 eligible

55 Letter to the Employees of the Steel Company of Canada from H.G. Hilton regarding steel prices and

wages, 11 April 1946, box 2, file 7, Tom McClure subfonds, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 56

Hamilton Spectator, “Steelmen Reply to Hilton Plan,” 11 July 1946. 57

Even though he officially supported his own Minister of Labour, Mackenzie King was sceptical about the

success of Mitchell’s interventions in the strike. He wrote in his diary, “I think Howe and Mitchell are for

fighting the issue out. I do not believe they can succeed. I think the plans the Hamilton Company are

adopting of bringing in food by aeroplane to men and the like is nonsense. What I do hope is that the

enquiry before the industrial commission will bring out the facts and the mere fact that they are investigated

publicly will make the party in the wrong come to time. I am far from believing that the wrong is all on one

side.” 16 July 1946 (Typewritten - Page 647)”, The Diaries of William Lyon Mackenzie King, Ottawa,

Ontario, LAC. While Mackenzie King may have felt his minsters’ approaches were wrong, he backed them

up in debates on the matter. 58

Canada, House of Commons Debates (20 August 1946),p. 5105-9 (Mr. Daniel McIvor, Fort William). 59

Hamilton Spectator, “House Calls Emergency Meeting Over Strikes,” 17 July 1946. 60

“Company Grew From Small Beginnings,” Westinghouse Employees Magazine 4, no. 4 (June 1946),

box 7, file 17, Westinghouse Canada fonds, WRDARC.

266

workers had voted with an overwhelming majority of 2,831 in favour of putting the union in the

position to call a strike if necessary.61

Though the union itself had only been ratified four months

earlier and had gained the support of the majority but a month before, its calls for higher wages,

more vacation time, a reinforcement of seniority rights within the plant, and recognition of the

union as the official bargaining unit of the plants workers clearly appealed to its members.62

Much like at Stelco, company negotiators made offers that the union considered to be grossly

unacceptable. While the union declared itself to be optimistic that Westinghouse would see sense

after the overwhelming strike vote, negotiations perhaps predictably collapsed. With the company

only changing its offer by a half cent, the membership responded by rejecting it with a resounding

74% opposed. On 5 July a strike was officially declared at both the West and East plants of the

Canadian Westinghouse Company Limited.63

Workers at Westinghouse blockaded the plant,

ensuring transport was difficult and slow, and production all but ground to a halt. And so, as

July’s heat crept over the city, two of the city’s largest employers confronted picket-lines.

Hamilton’s Firestone plant, home to a branch of the CIO-affiliated United Rubber

Workers of America, ratified during the war as Local 113, had experienced a similar round of

war-time negotiations. In 1945, after many months of long proceedings in front of the Ontario

Wartime Labour Board’s conciliation boards, wage problems remained unresolved. Frustrations

ran so high that 900 workers had walked off the job in 1944 for three full days’ worth of shifts

when the company refused to adjust its piece work rates.64

The workers claimed stock prices were

constantly on the rise but their wages stayed the same; the company claimed productivity was

61 Open letter to Westinghouse workers regarding strike vote, 19 June 1946, file 17, box 115, UEW Local

504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 62

Ibid. 63

Letter to Judge J.C. Reynold from the executive of the UEW regarding union’s position in negotiations,

30 July 1946, box 11, file 9, UEW Local 504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 64

Report of Industrial Dispute at Firestone Tire and Rubber Co., Hamilton, Ontario, December 1944, RG

7-30-0-322, Department of Labour fonds, AofO.

267

decreasing, prices were beyond its control, and any wage increases were unmerited.65

While the

union was solidly supported in the factory’s workshops, ultimately no resolution was reached and

workers agreed to stay on the job until the war’s end. Some – such as the Conciliation Board

Chairman W.D. Roach – hoped that their militancy would become a thing of the past: “Neither

party should be militant under the present method set up for collective bargaining and in the

machinery for settling differences in the course of bargaining, a militant attitude is

unnecessary.”66

The largely unsuccessful negotiations at least postponed a full-out strike. Yet in

the post-war years these companies were all also affected by the increased frustrations of workers

angered by deficient housing, food shortages, price increases, and food and fuel rationing.

It was in this mood that Firestone’s workers approached the bargaining table again in

1946, and it was thus unsurprising, given the previous inflexibility of the company, that

negotiations soon ground to a halt. While a strike had officially been called in June, the union

held off on mass pickets as they worked through negotiations, hosting only rotating picket lines

instead. Their mass picket lines started later and continued longer into the fall than at

Westinghouse and Stelco. In fact, it was not until 2 October 1946 – when the other two strikes

were nearly resolved – that the company’s workers joined the nearly 10,000 men already on mass

picket lines.67

So – with strikes involving the typographical workers at The Spectator, the USWA

Local 1005 workers at Stelco, the UEW Local 504 workers at Westinghouse, and URWA Local

113 workers at Firestone – a Hamilton that had spent so much of its Centenary celebrating peace,

progress, and Empire confronted conflicts that recalled the bitterest disputes of Depression-era

North America.

65 Memorandum regarding Firestone Tire and Rubber Company Ltd., and the URWA, CIO, 19 January

1945, RG 7-30-0-415, Department of Labour fonds, AofO. 66

Decision in the Matter of the Wartime Labour Relations Regulations P.C. 1005 and of a dispute between

Firestone Tire and Rubber Company of Canada Limited, Hamilton, Ontario and URWA Local 113, 10

August 1945. RG 7-30-0-415, Department of Labour fonds, AofO. 67

Hamilton Spectator, “Mass Picket Lines Thrown Up At Firestone Plant,” 2 October 1946.

268

Supporting the Strike in the Long Run: Amusement and Business on the Picket Lines

Immediately after the strikes began, wives, families, and children of workers gathered

around the picket lines in a show of solidarity. Aside from the constant spectre of company

interference and the perpetual threat of intervention from the government or from the provincial

police, the larger picket lines took on the tone of a very serious carnival. There were skirmishes

with strike-breakers, the police, and company officials. Wives were nearly constant features of

the summer strike, cooking and encouraging their husbands in their work on the line.68

Many

brought their children. The men amused themselves with games such as horseshoes, checkers,

lawn bowling, amateur wrestling and boxing, concerts, and performances by trained dogs.69

The

strikes were all supported by extensive fundraising from unions across North America, as well as

by local companies and retailers, many of them extending credit to the strikers.70

The labour

community’s support for the city’s workers boosted morale on the picket lines and made it clear

that the picketers – at one point reportedly 12,000-strong – were not friendless.71

Such solidarity

would be warmly remembered.

Even as the strike escalated and fears about violence and disorder spread across the city,

the workers were not without some support from the broader community. On 26 July, the first of

several monthly assemblies of supporters of the strike gathered at Woodlands Park. Drawing a

crowd of 10,000, the UEW touted such activity as the best way to show support for the strikes,

unions, and workers: “United mass action by labor has changed Mr. Mitchell’s mind. More mass

activity can further change government policy. This is one of the important lessons we can learn

68 Scrapbook on the Stelco Strike 1946, photos 13, 14, 35 and 36, Tom McClure subfonds, USWA Local

1005 fonds, WRDARC. 69

Ibid., photos 8, 17, 18, 44-47, 51-5, and 59-62, Tom McClure subfonds, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 70

Ibid., photos 16, 22, 33, 38-9, and 56, Tom McClure subfonds, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC;

Radio Transcript of speech by Local UEW strikes, fall 1946, box 116, file 4, UEW Local 504/ 550 fonds,

WRDARC; Minutes of the HDLC (AFL), 20 September 1946, HDLC fonds, WRDARC. 71

“Personal Reminiscence,” Steel Shots (April 1976), box 3, file 2, Tom McClure subfonds, USWA local

1005 fonds, WRDARC; “’46 Strike,” Steel Shots (July 1986), box 26, file 7, USWA Local 1005 fonds,

WRDARC.

269

from the happenings in recent weeks. MAKE EVERY THURSDAY DEMONSTRATION

DAY!”72

This was but the first of many such mass demonstrations. On 28 August between 8,000

and 10,000 men, many of them uniformed veterans, gathered at Woodland Park in the city’s east

end for a massive rally in support of the strike and against the arrival of imported police forces.73

After much to-and-fro debate on the issue, the OPP and RCMP finally moved into the city, to the

displeasure of many on the picket line. What began as a gathering of 300 men recruited by the

newly-formed Hamilton Strikers’ Veterans Committee, a group made up of representatives from

each of the striking plants, soon swelled as a march progressed down Burlington Street along the

factory’s picket lines.74

The largely peaceful gathering continued to grow. As one unnamed union

organizer informed the crowd, by remaining orderly they would demonstrate the folly of their

opponents. “We must create no disorders… for in that way we can keep public support. If we

remain calm we have won the strike. Remember that – we have won the strike.”75

Men were

joined by their families and children in a demonstration that included the singing of army and

union songs.

Led at some points by Lawrence, the labour mayor, the veterans’ march in support of the

strike echoed many of the pro-union slogans heard from wartime workers. From a loud speaker

mounted on a truck, their message was broadcast to the city at large:

Let the veterans from coast to coast tell the government to act in the interests of

the people. We want no more bloodshed, only the right to live as peaceful,

happy citizens. We demand that the government act now to assure that their

wartime promises made to us be fulfilled so that we and our fellow workers may

72 UEW Local 504 Strike Bulletin, 27 July 1946, box 115, file 10, UEW Local 504/550, WRDARC.

73 Hamilton Spectator, “Millard Says Talk to Be Renewed,” 28 August 1946. While the march was made up

of veterans, it was not endorsed by veterans associations. The United Council of Veterans’ president,

George M. MacKay, told the Spectator quite clearly, “The United Council of Veterans is a non-political

organization and I do not wish to be drawn into this business in any way whatever.” The combined plants

had sufficient organizational apparatuses in place to draw together their own veterans’ groups. 74

Toronto Star, “8000 Veterans Join Picket Lines,” 28 August 1946. The Spectator’s coverage from that

day focused mainly on the arrival of RCMP and OPP men. The Star’s coverage of the march provided a

more thorough description than that offered in the Spectator. For example, the Spectator reported only an

estimated 4,000 men were gathered in the sympathy strike. Hamilton Spectator, “Millard Says Talk to Be

Renewed,” 28 August 1946. 75

Hamilton Spectator, “Millard Says Talk to Be Renewed,” 28 August 1946.

270

turn our attention to making our lives, our homes, and our families happy,

prosperous and secure.76

The UEW News praised the “organized and disciplined parade of Veterans at such a critical

time.”77

The UEW’s strike bulletin for the march reflected the unique position that Second World

War veterans in particular had regarding the strike. “THIS TIME WE’RE MARCHING

BECAUSE THERE IS AN ENEMY IN CANADA,” read the headline of the bulletin:

Along with our fellow workers in these plant we have been forced to down

tools and go on strike for decent wages, for decent working hours, for the right

to hold up our heads in the proud knowledge that we live and love in a free

country which we helped to make free. We are not asking for much. We’re

certainly not asking for fulfillment of the glowing promises that were made to

us when we marched as rookies with our first weapons. But we are asking for a

little of the security which we figure that veterans [and] all working people are

entitled to.78

The presence of outside police in the city offended them. It was a veritable slight to veterans:

“They even insult the veterans by billeting police in the very barracks that we and some of our

buddies who fell overseas formerly used.”79

While older veterans were more likely to align

themselves with the inside workers due to similar ages and politics, their younger counterparts

saw the company’s positions as an erosion of everything that they had fought for.

The strikes had a dramatic impact on the community. Construction slowed down.

Without steel with which to build, all but the most vital projects were delayed, causing labour

shortages even in strike-free industries. Housing projects sat half-finished throughout the summer

as builders awaited much-needed but now unavailable supplies.80

F.M. Morton, vice-president of

the International Harvester company in Hamilton, remarked that the “scarcity of materials… is

holding up manufacture to a great extent. There seems to be an unlimited market for our products

both for the domestic and export market but at present with everything up in the air it is rather

76 Toronto Star, “8000 Veterans Join Picket Lines,” 28 August 1946.

77 UEW Local 504 Strike Bulletin, 29 August 1946, file 10, box 115, UEW Local 504/550, WRDARC.

78 “Brother Vet,” UEW Local 504 Strike Bulletin, 27 August 1946, file 10, box 115, UEW Local 504/550,

WRDARC. Emphasis in Original. 79

Ibid. 80

Hamilton Spectator, “Attempts to Secure Scrap Limestone Proves Failure,” 25 July 1946.

271

hard to plan on any increase in production.”81

H.G. Bertram, the locally-raised president of John

Bertram and Sons Ltd. in Dundas, noted that his firm had already had to reduce hours and was

operating “on a restricted capacity.” He glumly observed that “strikes all over the country have

put a blanket on progress… and it is very difficult to look into the future.”82

These strikes were in part driven by the massive expansion that CIO-affiliated unions had

experienced in Hamilton and the rest of the country throughout the later years of the Depression

and the war years. The USWA and UEW were perfect examples of this expansion. The SWOC

had initially struggled in the 1930s to organize Stelco’s diverse workforce.83

Its mix of skilled and

unskilled employees, spread across thousands of square-feet of plants, made it difficult to unite

the workers under one union and so it was necessary for them to organize around a broad and

strong foothold across the plant.84

Westinghouse’s union suffered from similar problems, given

the scope of their workplaces’ departments, the wide variety of occupations they encompassed,

and their division into two physically distinct plants.85

By 1946, craft unions – once the heart of

Hamilton’s ILP and labour council – seemed passé. The Spectator’s printing strike demonstrated

that they had lost much of their bargaining power in an increasingly deskilled manufacturing

world. Their place as labour’s vanguard had been taken by industrial unions.

Strike-Breakers’ Rights as Workers’ Rights

In each of the CIO-affiliated industrial union strikes in Hamilton that year, the union had

garnered the support of the majority of workers over the course of the war, as demonstrated by

successful strike votes. While Hamilton’s unionized workers fought for better wages and

81 Hamilton Spectator, “Strikes Blanket Mart Progress,” 16 June 1946.

82 Ibid.

83 Pamphlet, “Men of Stelco, Do You want these conditions in Stelco Plants?” 1938, box 25, file 11,

USWA 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 84

Steel Workers’ News, “Hamilton Union,” May 1936, box 25, file 9, USWA Local 1005 fonds,

WRDARC. 85

Newsletter, “We Have Reached Another Important Milestone for Improved Conditions, Job Protection,

Join the U.E.” fall 1937, box 1, file 1, UEW Local 504/550, WRDARC.

272

conditions against strong resistance from both the companies involved and the federal and

municipal governments, another group of workers continued working, running Stelco’s Hamilton

Works in the face of forceful opposition. During the summer of 1946, an average of 2,000 men

remained inside the factory, all day and night, with little opportunity to leave (at least with any

hope of re-entry) up until the final weeks of the strike. They had been offered lucrative pay

packages by the company to remain inside, though they had perhaps not envisioned the total

lockdown the picket lines would create. Food and supplies were airdropped in to the factory. As a

rule, neither trains, boats, nor trucks could pass the picket lines.86

Spirits were kept high by as

many comforts as the company could provide – sports teams, a radio show, non-denominational

Christian religious services, a regular newspaper, and even celebrations of birthdays, new babies,

anniversaries, and weddings. The Stelco Daily Billet carried cartoons, letters from home,

anecdotes and short stories, jokes, and news from the outside world. A “Daily Doings” schedule

of events, personal interest stories on the “odds and ends” of life on the inside – all these made

the paper popular.87

It even circulated in limited quantities outside the plant to families of strike-

breakers and those who had had to leave the plant. In spite of a rigid production schedule

intended to keep production going during the strike, high wages, good food, and regular

entertainment kept workers inside as satisfied as possible, though many were homesick and

lonely.88

Their wives kept each other company through the Stelco Ladies Auxiliary, an important

86 Transcript of Interview with J.N. (Pat) Kelly with William Ready, 9 December 1971, box 1, file 7, J.N.

(Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC. 87

The Stelco Daily Billet, “Howdy Folks!,” 1, no. 1 (19 July 1946), Howie Collection, HPL. While the

paper printed births, birthdays, anniversaries, and other celebrations with names on request, letters of

support from the outside were published with no names in case their authors became victims of

intimidation while their husbands were away. While incidents were few and far between, the anecdotal

evidence from wives about their children facing rock throwing, name calling, and harassment at school was

in line with the escalating anti-strike-breaker attitudes of workers on strike across the city. Such harassment

had been previously seen in the city during the National Steel Car strike of 1944, as attitudes had soured

and strikes dragged on. Hamilton Spectator, “Stelco Worker’s Home is Painted; Wife Threatened,” 18

September 1946. 88

At the height of the strike and in its earliest days, once workers left the plant they were not allowed

passage back in. Thus, workers only left if it was absolutely necessary or their attitudes had changed. It was

not until the last month of the strike, when additional police reinforcements had been called in to manage

273

supplement to their social lives as many had had friendships elsewhere tested by their husbands’

decisions to remain inside. In the eyes of the strikers, the strike-breakers were selfish company

stooges.89

Over time this image hardened. As Reg Gardiner warned those inside: “You’re already

rated as a ‘scab’ – with all that means to you and to your family. Staying in the plant will not only

lose you your self-respect – you and the company will lose out in this strike.”90

Despite claims made by the union, the “inside workers,” largely separate from the rest of

the city and the company, developed their own community and sense of solidarity. The sense of

betrayal that strike-breakers expressed towards the workers on the other side of the picket line

demonstrated the persistence of old labour ideals in the minds of some Hamilton workers. To

those inside, they were doing right with respect to a company that had always served them well.

As the Stelco Daily Billet’s valedictory editorial stated, they were opposed to the union, to its

forceful strike order, and to its allegedly undemocratic nature:

We felt that every man has the inalienable right to decide on his own course of

action and accordingly, we took our own stand… We shall not forget that it was

truly a family job. The convictions of the workers inside Stelco were not only

shared, but expressed by our wives and families... We believe it [the strike] was

a selfish effort, and in defeating it we should feel that we have rendered our

country and all its people a substantial service, one of which we may by proud.

We rightfully call it ‘our fight’… As Canadian workers, we are grateful that,

when such a showdown came to declare and maintain our rights, that we were

associated with a company, that did not hesitate to provide us with the facilities

and backing to carry our fight through… A ‘Fraternity of Friendship’ has been

created inside Stelco, which is beyond price or sabotage.91

The liberal individualism espoused in this text – one aligned with friendship, honour, and service

– was of a piece with Hamilton’s reigning ideology. It clearly outlined the rights of the inside-

worker as a liberal individual within a liberal society. It also, ironically enough, echoed many of

the victorious speeches made on the other side of the picket line. To the strike-breakers, it was a

the line, that picketers allowed the inside men to leave for relief vacations. The Stelco Daily Billet, “Howdy

Folks!,” 1, no. 1 (7 September 1946), Howie Collection, HPL. 89

Letter to the Men Inside the Gates from Reg Gardiner, president of USWA 1005, summer 1946, box 1,

file 22, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 90

Ibid. 91

The Stelco Daily Billet, “Our Valedictory Editorial,” 2, no. 65 (2 October 1946), Howie Collection, HPL.

274

worker’s right to control his or her own decisions whether to work somewhere or not. To the

strike-breakers, they were still part of a brotherhood, one that united fair-minded employees and

employers. Unlike the union men, they trusted the company to do right, and to do so through

negotiations.

The strike divided the community quite sharply between those siding with the strikers

and those who were not fully in support of their cause, even outside the factory walls. Then

Mayor Lawrence came out vocally in support of the strike. Writing in April before the strikes

began for Steel Labor, the USWA’s international paper, Lawrence declared that the pursuit of “a

measure of job security and prosperity” for the steel workers of Hamilton was “a worthy one –

deserving the full support of the people of this city.”92

He praised their pursuit of higher wages,

shorter work weeks, more vacation time, and union security. He dismissed the employers’ claims

that the unions’ demands were “extravagant or impossible.”93

His response, drawing on his own

experience as mayor and controller during the war, demonstrated his steadfast adherence to the

labour cause. He concluded by reframing the city as one informed not by business and industry

but by the new class of urban manufacturing workers: “Labour is a large and important part of

our community. To succeed it requires the support of all other sections of the community. We all

have a stake in the program which labour has advanced in the future of industry in this city.”94

This early article set the city up for one of the fiercest debates in its history. The Mayor was not

just asking the city to support labour and the union in the strike; he was also asking Hamiltonians

to reimagine themselves and their city as a working-class community. This debate between what

the city essentially was and would become led to a showdown that would overpower any memory

of the centennial celebrations and raise questions about what it meant to be a Hamiltonian, what it

meant to be a worker – and what it meant to be both at once.

92 Sam Lawrence, “Hamilton’s Mayor Backs Union,” Steel Labor 11, no. 4 (April 1946): 4, box 3, file 5,

Tom McClure subfonds, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 93

Ibid. 94

Ibid.

275

“We’ll Hang Nora Henderson From a Sour Apple Tree”: Gender, Labour Identity, and

Civic Order in 1946

The strike drew a stark line through the city. There was mounting violence. The issue

became so fraught that local congregations began prohibiting talk of the strikes within their

churches.95

The public relations war between Stelco and the USWA rose to a fever pitch. Each

side hired public relations staff to manage the strike. The USWA was well-organized and was

able to provide its beleaguered Hamilton workers immediate international support, including a

campaign to get the city on the side of the strikers. Stelco recognized the problems that such a

campaign could cause for the company. It hired J.N. Kelly to work as the company’s public

relations advisor during the strike. He was, alongside Company president H.G. Hilton, installed in

the Royal Connaught Hotel to manage the crisis from there.96

This move resulted in a nearly non-

stop publicity war between union and company that extended over the radio, into the papers –

with the Spectator predictably supporting the company – and throughout the city’s

neighbourhoods. Larry Sefton’s broadcasts over CHML spoke of the company’s desperation, its

illegal tactics, and its isolation.97

Wives of strikers, the strikers themselves, and supportive

community members spoke of the benefits the union would bring to their lives. On the same

station, Kelly and a cavalcade of company-friendly radio hosts spoke about lawlessness, disorder,

and the sad situation of the strike-breakers inside the plant.

The chilling title of a pro-company Financial Post article on the strike, “Some Hoping for

Hamilton Martyrs,” summed up the concerns of Hamiltonians alarmed by the strikes. Henderson

and many in the city were worried by the picket lines.98

Tempers were flaring on both sides of the

95 Session Minutes of Delta United Church, 16 September 1946, box 4, file 2, Delta United Church

Collection, UCCA. 96

Collections Description for J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC. 97

Transcript of Radio Address by Larry Sefton, 20 August 1946, box 2, J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC. 98

Financial Post, “Some Hoping for Hamilton Martyrs,” August 1946, J.N. (Pat) Kelly scrapbooks, box 2,

J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC. In spite of picket-line fights, high speed boat chases, and very large

protests, the only deaths related to the strike were those of two strike-breakers, William Jaggard and Albert

Rostrum, who died of natural causes, strangely enough on the same day, inside the plant. While Henderson

lamented their separation from their families in a melodramatic public statement, no one went so far as to

276

dispute. With nearly daily scuffles, some felt that bringing in additional police support was the

only way to keep the summer from turning deadly. This idea was a tough sell to the union. It saw

the OPP and RCMP officers on the scene as strike breakers. On the other side, J.N. Kelly’s

account of the strike provides a grim contrast to the celebratory tone of much of the pro-union

commemorative writings about the event:

[The Steel Company of Canada Limited] was the target for union activity and

all the bitterness and turmoil that follows in a decision to battle it out. And

battle it was. There was no law and there was no order in Hamilton during those

strife-torn days. Constituted authority was defied and the rights and privileges

of free men were trampled in the dust of illegality. It was war with all the

terrors of violence and intimidation. There was the underground that outwitted

the picket lines; the logistics of feeding over 2,000 men besieged in the plant;

the operation of planes and boats, and the constant and shattering propaganda

warfare.99

While Kelly’s dramatic reflection on the strike paints a grim and heavily biased portrait of the

strike, his memories also draw attention to some of the real concerns that politicians like

Henderson had for their city, once – in their eyes - a cherished bastion of British liberty, non-

partisanship, order, and reason. The strikes had torn the city’s pre-existing political order up by its

roots, and just like Lawrence would always be a self-confessed labour man first, Henderson and

the opposition to the picket lines declared themselves to be citizens, above and beyond any

particular class identity. This position, for all its empathy with strike breakers, was not born

solely out of an anti-labour spirit. It was based on an older, and now out-dated, understanding of

how politics and personal relationships should work in a city pervaded by conservative liberal

ideals. This position was cherished by many of the inside workers, who had often served in the

plant through the Depression and felt greater loyalty to and support of the corporation.100

This

loyalty did not extend to the workers who had moved to the factory only during the war years or

suggest they were strike martyrs. Hamilton Spectator, “Deplores State Where Men Die Cut From Home,”

10 September 1946. 99

“A History of the Stelco Strike” by J.N. Kelly, box 1, file 7, J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC. 100

Each issue of the Daily Billet profiled an individual worker. Most had in excess of ten years of service,

and 50th, and even s60th, birthday celebrations were noted in its events pages. The Stelco Daily Billet,

Howie Collection, HPL.

277

joined it as younger workers in the last decade. Filling jobs out of necessity rather than choice

during the war, these workers did not feel the same allegiances to the success of the factory, or

indeed to the city itself, felt by their co-workers who remained inside. Crucially, the position

adopted by Henderson and other opponents of the strike on city council demonstrated that those

in favour of law and order had failed to recognize that for the strikers their identity as workers

superseded their identity as Hamiltonians, as they had come to identify with a movement with

concerns that extended far beyond the city.

Beyond the picket lines themselves, Hamilton’s women worried about the safety of their

homes while their husbands were working. While violence on the picket line was a near daily

occurrence, crimes beyond the line were reminders of the strike’s impact on the extended

community.101

Mrs. Joseph Acciarioli, whose husband was a seventeen-year plant veteran and so

had remained inside the plant, woke up at three in the morning to find her house being painted

with the words “Scabs” and “Scabs live here.”102

Alone in the house with only her six-year-old

son, both she and her son reported feeling unnerved and threatened as a “scab” family. Thomas

Robertson’s house was similarly festooned with graffiti while he was home from the plant on

vacation. Other houses were paint bombed regularly, at a rate of about three per week.103

More

terrifyingly, while on vacation from the plant, both John Roberts and Sam Robertson, who

worked inside the factory, came home to find gasoline had been poured around the outside of

their houses.104

Roberts chased the two would-be arsonists. Both arson cases remained unsolved

but seemed to be linked to the strikes. Mrs. Frances Norton was visited by a man who threatened

to burn her house down if her husband did not leave the plant.105

Her accused was definitely a

striking Stelco worker, whose alibi of being on the picket line at the time was later disconfirmed.

101 Hamilton Spectator, “Trying to Enter Plant, Worker is Taken to Hospital,” 12 August 1946; Hamilton

Spectator, “Violence Flares at Stelco,” 17 July 1946. 102

Hamilton Spectator, “Stelco Worker’s Home is Painted, Wife Threatened,” 18 September 1946. 103

Hamilton Spectator, “Two Charged with Arson in Fires at Stelco Homes,” 24 September 1946. 104

Hamilton Spectator, “Police Suspect Two Attempts to Burn Down Homes,” 20 September 1946. 105

Hamilton Spectator, “Mount Hamilton Man is Convicted of Intimidation,” 7 August 1946.

278

The Spectator, not hesitant to cast aspersions on labour, described the campaign as a “mounting

reign of terrorism against the homes of non-striking workers.”106

At the heart of discussions about the strikes were questions about what was democratic,

fair, and legal in Hamilton in 1946. The strikers proclaimed that their actions embodied

democracy and aimed to end oppression in industry. But so too did those on the side of law and

order claim democracy was theirs. An anonymous letter to the editor published in the Sydney

Post-Record echoed concerns that the strike, whatever its intentions and whoever was provoking

the violence, had “degenerate[d] into mass defiance of laws which exist for the preservation of

the civil rights, the properties, persons and ordered ways of life of all Canadian citizens.”107

On 8

August 1946, a meeting of the Board of Control was called to discuss whether outside police

should be brought in to deal with the lack of order on the picket lines. Two votes were held. One

called for the enforcement of Order in Council No. 2901, the Order-in-Council that dictated how

the steel plants were to be run during the strike, including stiff penalties for restrictions on

workers continuing work. It passed. A second demanded that the Minister of Justice send in the

OPP. It was defeated.108

The crowd assembled outside numbered 2,000. While Mayor Lawrence

was escorted out by four police officers to a cheering crowd, those who had favoured more

intervention encountered a different reception. The Spectator and Chief Crocker’s report

recounted how Henderson and Aldermen Jennings, Easton and Heddle were confronted by an

angry, “roaring” mob through which Henderson “made her torturous stumbling way for more

than 100 yards while scores in the crowd buffeted her, clawed, punched, and kicked at her.”109

The Spectator’s report was corroborated by the 9 August radio broadcast from the UE News,

though they attributed the “muss[ing] up” to strikers’ wives, and said Henderson should have

106 Hamilton Spectator, “Two Charged with Arson in Fires at Stelco Homes,” 24 September 1946.

107 Sydney Post-Record, “Who are the Strike Breakers,” 26 August 1946, J.N. (Pat) Kelly scrapbooks, box

2 J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC. 108

Report of the Board of Control to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1946, Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1946 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1947), 8 August 1946. 109

Hamilton Spectator, “Mob Rule Will not Reign – Crocker,” 9 August 1946.

279

known better than to try to leave through an angry crowd.110

While the Spectator’s report was

deliberately constructed to evoke sympathy for the anti-strike councillors, even the usually

reserved Chief Constable Joseph Crocker, who had previously refused to pass judgement on the

picket line problems, termed the assembly “a disgusting exhibition for labour men.”111

He

chastised the 2,000 men for their behaviour, noting that such exhibitions and roughhousing did

not help their cause and instead “lent emphasis to arguments that provincial police be brought

into Hamilton.”112

Henderson also controversially maintained that strikers and their families should not

receive financial relief from the city. Throughout the early days of the strike, petitions were sent

asking that since they were technically not earning money, wives and children of strikers receive

municipal financial support.113

Henderson, never a supporter of welfare for people able to work to

begin with, unsurprisingly stood firmly against providing any such relief. She pointed out that the

strike was technically illegal and that the city had always denied relief to criminals and those with

a criminal record.114

Secondly, she opposed it on fiscal grounds. Relief was now a joint

responsibility of federal, provincial, and municipal governments. It seemed unlikely that these

levels of government, wrapped up in ending the strikes, would welcome relief payments that

sought to prolong them. Finally, “she pointed out there were a large number of men besieged in

the plant of the Steel Company who were prevented from going in and out of work. As taxpayers

they would be asked to provide the money for aiding the very men who were taking this

action.”115

Ultimately her viewpoint prevailed. Other controllers and councillors pointed out that

110 Radio Transcript of the UEW News of the Air, 9 August 1946, box 116, file 3, UEW Local 504/550,

WRDARC. 111

Hamilton Spectator, “Mob Rule Will not Reign – Crocker,” 9 August 1946. 112

Ibid. 113

Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1946, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1946, (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1947), 30 July 1946. 114

Hamilton Spectator, “Relief for Strikers’ Families Referred to Council,” 6 August 1946. 115

Ibid.

280

under city law, financial by-laws had to be passed by referendum. Only a new by-law – whose

passage was unlikely in the strike-torn city – could have brought relief to the strikers’ families.

In the end, only the Labour Progressive Party (LPP) Alderman Helen Anderson, Mayor

Sam Lawrence, and his CCF comrades James Newell and Joseph Easton voted in favour of the

proposal when it was finally brought before council on 27 August. Easton’s argument that

providing relief to strikers would relieve a strain on the union could not have fallen on less

sympathetic ears by August 1946.116

While Windsor was brought forward as an example of a

progressive city that had provided relief to its strikers, Hamilton was not Windsor. Ellen

Fairclough, newly elected Alderman who had experienced a baptism by fire by joining council

mid-strike, echoed the Conservative refrain of the city. Had strikers been suffering? Yes, but so

too had “a large body of citizens under ‘frozen wages,’” many of them tax-paying “small business

persons operating under price controls.” 117

She “could not ‘sit on this council and support an

expenditure of money for just one class of citizen.’”118

During the strike Hamilton had become a

city of many groups of citizens, with deeply divided interests surrounding the strike. Some stood

for law and order as it had been controversially defined for decades. Others stood for a new

conception of order based on industrial democracy. Both sides often used very similar words –

yet meant entirely different things by them.

The views held by Henderson and her supportive members of council echoed general

concerns that picket-line demonstrations of solidarity risked devolving into mob violence. Barely

a week passed during the strike when there was not some news of an altercation at the gates.

Concerns about unrest were not limited to the City Council’s debates. Petitions came in from

citizens asking that some order be restored. A letter from the Independent Steel Workers’

Association, the labour body formed to represent workers within the plant, echoed their support

116 Hamilton Spectator, “Turn Down Request for Relief to Strikers,” 28 August 1946.

117 Ibid.

118 Ibid.

281

for Henderson’s pursuit of law and order: “Never in more than 300 years have the British

principles of Democracy and freedom been challenged as they are to-day… Hamilton must be

made safe for its citizens to go unmolested to and from their work and the necessary protection

must be provided.”119

From parliament to the papers, many critiques of the violence and disorder

harkened back to this notion that taking away the liberty of people to choose to work constituted a

deeply unBritish violation of the individual’s rights. These concerns echoed back to the liberal

ideals Hamilton’s politicians had so valued. The discussion of strike-breakers as citizens and free

people raised important questions for those who saw law and order deteriorating within the city.

Their liberty as individuals had been restricted – some would say even removed – by a picket line

they found perilous to cross. The union protested that strike-breakers were welcome to leave

whenever they wanted, but would not be permitted back into the factory, a daunting prospect for

men who felt their families were relying on their wages.120

Henderson’s position as the deputy mayor and as the longest serving and most

recognizable City Council representative to oppose the strike left her open to criticism from the

strikers and those sympathetic to their cause. Much as her gender had influenced her run for

parliament, it became an issue again when she became involved in the largely male world of

strikes and unions. While Henderson was not alone in supporting police intervention, she became

its poster woman. She was hardly an innocent bystander. She made bold and persistent efforts to

cross every picket line she could, simply to show she was able to. However, she was not alone in

her stance. For example, Alderman John Hodgson, who joined with Henderson and the majority

in denying the strikers’ families municipal relief, explained his stance to the Spectator: “The

taxpayers should not be called on to subsidize workers any more than to subsidize management. I

think they were too impatient in striking,” he told the paper, “They should have given industry a

119 Telegram from E. Barker, President of the Independent Steel Workers Association, to Nora-Frances

Henderson, 8 August 1946, box 2, J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC. 120

Letter to the Men Inside the Gates from Reg Gardiner, president of USWA 1005, summer 1946, box 1,

file 22, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC.

282

chance to turn around in this reconversion period… We have also got to decide whether we shall

have mob rule or British law and order.”121

The motion for strike relief was lost. Although the

details of the vote were not released to the public, making it impossible for the historian to map

divisions in the council with precision, it was obvious that Henderson and Hodgson were not

alone.122

Figure 15: Henderson, centre in flowered hat, crosses the ITU local 129 picket lines into the Spectator

printing presses, Hamilton, 2 August 1946. Source: Black Mount collection, PreView image collection,

HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Local History and Archives, Hamilton Public Library.

In August, fearing law and order was being compromised in Hamilton, Henderson made

a conscious effort to cross all the city’s picket lines. On 2 August, in the face of pending council

votes, Henderson made her first cross-picket line passage in a move that grabbed the attention of

media coast-to-coast. She was “to make a public demonstration that she would not bow to mob

121 Hamilton Spectator, “City Alderman says Strikers Too Impatient,” 8 August 1946.

122 Hamilton Spectator, “Striker Relief is Said Matter for Ratepayers,” 10 August 1946.

283

rule.”123

The crowd of picketers assembled ten-deep on either side of Stelco’s gates but let the

councillor through to prove that they were not preventing free passage in and out of the plant.124

Once inside, she jovially mixed with the inside workers, reassuring them that she was on their

side. Appealing to gender stereotypes, the UEW News Radio show called her a “busybody” and

said that if she had any sympathy for women she would support the strike.125

She was even

accused of being a hypocrite with respect to women’s equality, since she had supported the

oppression of workers despite labour’s previous support in attacking the oppression of women.126

“Controller Henderson has again got up on her high horse,” wrote the UEW’s Strike Bulletin

editors. “Not satisfied with her last attempt when she aroused the indignation of Hamilton

citizens, she is again adding fuel to the fire at the same time earning the undying hatred of all

peace loving citizens.”127

The council vote of 7 August denoted a turning point in the tone of the

strike. It was no longer a summer of fun and fraternity but had turned into one of unhappy

disorder and bitter accusations from both sides of the line.

Cooling Down as Summer Turns to Fall: Negotiations and Government Involvement in

Resolving the Strikes of 1946

By 26 August, the provincial government had had enough of Hamilton’s strike problem.

Even the formerly tolerant Chief Crocker was forced to admit that he could no longer control the

city. In particular, he was unable to guarantee anyone safe passage through the Stelco picket line.

Mayor Lawrence had continually refused to address the question or allow council to call a special

meeting of the Police Commission to discuss reinforcements.128

The repeated appeals from the

123 Hamilton Spectator, “Says Men Will Not Join Union Under Compulsion,” 3 August 1946.

124 Ibid.

125 Radio Transcript of UE News on the Air, 9 August 1946, box 116, file 3, UEW Local 504/ 550 fonds,

WRDARC. 126

Democrat, letter to the editor, “Has a Theory About Our Summer Chaos,” Hamilton Spectator, 4

November 1946. 127

UEW Local 504 Strike Bulletin, 20 August 1946, box 115, file 10, UEW Local 504/550, WRDARC. 128

Lawrence blamed the companies and strike breakers for the violence. He claimed if anyone should pay

for policing, it should be these groups. “Men who wanted to stay in were advised to bring pyjamas and a

284

chief fell on deaf ears in the Mayor’s office. As chairman of the Police Commission, he alone

could call a meeting of the Commission under ordinary circumstances. It was not until Alderman

Herbert Hannah, with the assistance of Judge E.F. Lazier, defied the mayor to requisition the

required number of councillors and controllers needed to call a special meeting that the chief’s

concerns were addressed.129

As the Chief admitted, “We can not cope with the situation unless we

get help. Attempts to run steel out of the plant are like waving a red flag in front of a bull.”130

The

pressure on the city’s police was simply too great. “We are outnumbered, tremendously

outnumbered,” Crocker told the commission, “I cannot hazard a guess… [by] how many.”131

The

problem of the strike had actually been exacerbated by citizen support because, while the strikers

were by and large a peaceful lot, the anonymity granted by the swelling crowds of the picket lines

often fed the anger that led to violence.132

On 26 August, the RCMP and OPP sent 500 combined officers to Hamilton. They were

to stay at the Army Trade School barracks, though the officers in charge were headquartered at

the more luxurious Royal Connaught Hotel.133

In the words of Progressive Conservative

Attorney-General Leslie Blackwell, the city’s ruling bodies had “reached the conclusion that the

only way in which they could discharge their duties to the citizens of Hamilton in maintaining

law and order was to request assistance from the Provincial authorities.”134

Blackwell made it

clear that the police were not there to smack down picketing efforts. “As far as the criminal law

of Canada is concerned the right of those on strike at the Steel Company, Hamilton, to strike is

not in issue. Under this law they not only strike but are entitled to engage in what is known as

change of underclothing. A landing place for planes had been constructed,” Lawrence argued. What

possible use, he reasoned, could the workers then have for ground passage? Hamilton Spectator, “City

Appeals to Attorney-General for Outside Help,” 24 August 1946. Given that Lawrence felt labour was

under assault by the company, he viewed any concessions to the “law and order” side of council to be a

concession against labour, even when citizens seemed in favour of it. 129

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Refuses to Call Police Commission Meeting,” 19 August 1946. 130

Hamilton Spectator, “Police Chief Seeks Reinforcements,” 23 August 1946. 131

Ibid. 132

Ibid. 133

Hamilton Spectator, “Mounties, Ontario Police Assemble,” 26 August 1946. 134

Statement by Attorney-General Blackwell, 27 August 1946, box 2, J.N. (Pat) Kelly fonds, WRDARC.

285

peaceful picketing.”135

However, preventing people from entering or leaving the plant with

threats of violence was intolerable. Whether out of fear of oppression, as the union claimed, or a

true desire for order, as the government claimed, the picket lines quieted down and an

uncomfortable détente settled on the city.

The Spectator responded positively to the presence of the police. It ran a full page of

pictures of heroic Mounties striding through the streets of the city and setting up shop at their

headquarters. “There is no bitterness like that thrown up by industrial strikes and unrest; no

confusion equals the confusion of times like these,” a front page editorial advised its readers,

It is unfair to accuse [the police] in any remote way of taking sides or showing

sympathy to either side, or acting in sympathy with either side, in the present

tragic scene in Hamilton. The Police are not in Hamilton to help one side

impose its will by force on another; they are here to PREVENT EITHER SIDE

FROM IMPOSING ITS WILL BY FORCE ON THE OTHER.136

The most immediate effect of the police’s presence was that inside workers were able to leave on

vacation without fear of not being able to get back in, which relieved accumulated tension against

the strikers to some extent.137

While the police brought a sense of relief and order, they did not

bring resolution or reconciliation. The union and company continued their lengthy and

increasingly contentious negotiations.

With the city in disarray, and strikers frustrated by the stepped-up police presence,

deadlocked negotiations, and civic retrenchment, Charles Millard, head of the SWOC in Canada

and in charge of negotiating for the Stelco workers, gave in and headed back to Ottawa to resume

discussions with the company. While initial reports from both sides were discouraging, Millard’s

return came to be seen as a positive sign for the success of the negotiations.138

While both sides

had spent the summer submitting reports to the government bodies charged with ending the

135 Ibid.

136 Hamilton Spectator, “What Our Police Stand For,” 29 August 1946. Emphasis in the original.

137 The Stelco Daily Billet, 1, no. 35 (28 August 1946), Howie Collection, HPL.

138 Hamilton Spectator, “Conversations Still on at Ottawa,” 30 August 1946.

286

strike, they had not returned to the table. Doing so was a definite sign of goodwill.139

Inspired by

Millard’s move, the UEW also moderated its wage demands and arranged for a conference with

management.140

As the summer continued, pressure increased on the unions and the companies to

reach a settlement. Many industries within the city were confronted with shortages of material

either due directly to the steel, rubber, and electrical works strikes or as a result of rail blockages

created by the picket lines.141

By August local industries such as National Steel Car had to shut

down production lines, putting more men temporarily out of work.

Mitchell continued to alienate himself from his former working-class constituents, the

unions, and the city’s strikers. By August he was describing the labour situation as a result of a

Communist conspiracy to bring ill repute to the name of organized labour. “In my judgment,” he

told Parliament, “some of the so-called [labour] leaders in this country have deliberately set in

motion policies designed to destroy the reconversion efforts of the Canadian people.”142

Over the

course of the three-day debate on industrial relations in the country, Mitchell repeatedly defended

his loyalty to labour. The CCF was quick to point out that he had indeed moved away from his

roots. The three-day mid-August debate demonstrated the pitch that the industrial relations crisis

had reached in the city. Ottawa wanted the strike to be speedily concluded. It increased its

pressure on Mitchell to resolve it. In the eyes of the government, especially members from

outside the region, the strike was illegal, it was hurting trade and exports, and was drawing

unwanted attention to the labour problems that had been nearing a breaking point since the war.

As Colin Gibson, then Minister of Defence for Air, wrote to Ralph Hindson, a Hamiltonian

concerned with the escalation of conflict in the city, “this is an intolerable situation and one that

seriously reflects against the enforcement of law and order in our Province.”143

139 Ibid.

140 Hamilton Spectator, “Demands are Reduced by Westinghouse Strikers,” 30 August 1946.

141 Hamilton Spectator, “Strikes are Threat to Ten Thousand Jobs,” 10 August 1946.

142 Hamilton Spectator, “Mitchell Says Communists Plan to Wreck Nation,” 23 August 1946.

143 Hamilton Spectator, “Col. Gibson Says Situation Here is Quite Intolerable,” 12 August 1946.

287

One of the most important sticking points for advocates of the union had been its

recognition as a legitimate bargaining unit. H.G. Hilton guaranteed protection for workers and

allowed for a secret ballot to be held to institute union dues.144

It would allow workers to return to

work and vote to do so through a secret ballot returned to government registrar W.H. Lovering.

The secret ballot scheme essentially sidelined the USWA. Pat Conroy, secretary of the Canadian

Congress of Labour, called the proposal “a dagger aimed at the heart of the trade union

movement… we are fully capable of running our own show and no outsider is going to do it for

us.”145

The government capitulated and allowed the union to hold its own votes, both outside and

inside the plants, on what was substantially the same offer but this time made through the

government, not the company.146

By 4 October the strike was over. The RCMP and OPP closed

up shop. While some like Henderson worried that the city would remain a zone of lawless

hostility, things gradually did return to normal, especially given the rapid dismantling of the

picket lines.

The second of the strikes to end was that at Firestone, ending on 20 October 1946 with a

resounding 96% of the union’s workers in favour of the final proposal made by the company. 147

This offer included a sixteen cent-an-hour wage increase, much closer to the union’s proposed

wages, and on par with settlements reached at Westinghouse and Stelco. Westinghouse followed

soon thereafter, with an offer “the strike committee and stewards council have both unanimously

recommended [for] acceptance” that included increased wages, more holidays, union recognition

of the UEW as the company’s bargaining unit and most importantly a plan for reemployment on

equal terms for the workers who had been on strike with “no discrimination, no delay, return to

144 Circular letter from H.G. Hilton to Stelco Employees regarding company offer, 20 September 1946, box

1, file 25, USWA Local 1005 fonds, WRDARC. 145

Hamilton Spectator, “There are Other Daggers As Well,” 25 September 1946. 146

Hamilton Spectator, “Poll Heavy this Morning As Steel Workers Ballot,” 1 October 1946. 147

Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton’s Labour Picture Now Brightest in Months,” 21 October 1946.

288

same jobs, [and] methods of informing workers.”148

While they had made concessions on wages

and vacation time at all the plants, the strikers were proud of what they had achieved. “We came

out strong! We remained strong against all efforts to break us! Let’s go back in stronger than

ever!” the Westinghouse union crowed, leaving little doubt about who was responsible for the

achievements. “Our Pickets did the big job during the strike! Our negotiating committee and all

our regular strike committees – in fact, every member of our union must have the security that

can only be achieved with an overwhelming signing up for the check-off before the return to

work... Don’t take anything for granted.”149

The strikes may have divided the community but they

solidified the new union movement’s importance in the city.

Confronting the Strike and Facing the Electorate: Passing the Test of Public Opinion

With a civic election only two months on the horizon, the strikes were not far from the

minds of the electorate. Would they vote for the old Hamilton or the new? The contest became a

deliberate test of the Mayor’s grip on the city’s popular vote. Could he survive the ire of some

citizens? Only Controller Don Clarke and Mayor Lawrence vied for the position, after another

candidate, Alderman Herbert Hannah, dropped out. Clarke was a “business man, member of the

Board of Control and former Alderman [with a] good record of public service [who was] widely

known and liked [and] free from the domination of any clique or party.”150

He had rightly

declared the election would be a race between “Pro-Lawrence and Anti-Lawrence forces.”151

His

résumé was written to look like, and was read as, a representation of the old-time Hamilton

politician: middle-class, non-partisan, self-made, and an excellent public servant. Public opinion

was as sharply divided by the election as it had been by the strikes. The Spectator, as always,

made its opinions very public: “Whether Hamilton wants or does not want to have its name tied

148 UEW Local 504 Strike Bulletin, 25 October 1946, file 10, box 115, UEW Local 504/550, WRDARC.

149 Ibid.

150 Hamilton Spectator, “A Look at the Candidates,” 7 December 1946.

151 Hamilton Spectator, “Hannah Reveals Withdrawal From Mayoralty Fight,” 9 November 1946.

289

up with the kind of thing that went on here last summer is the business of the voters. Whether or

not it wants a repeat performance will depend very much on how ballots are cast on December

9.”152

In response to the sour tone of the Spectator towards Lawrence, the striking typesetters ran

a special issue of the Classified News, another alternative paper started during the strike, purely

in support of Lawrence. His calm handing of a ticklish industrial situation during the past summer

had been “a masterpiece of diplomacy,” they wrote, “[he has] a reputation for sane, honest and

competent administration that is distinct and unique in the city’s history.”153

And could the “sour busybody” Henderson save her seat in the face of the glowing,

victorious labour mayor? Letters to the editor to the Spectator revealed divided opinions on the

matter. Some displayed confidence in the administration, and especially in Lawrence, for leading

the city through the strike, despite his repeated refusals to call in the police at the behest of

council. As “December Nine” wrote, “We are thankfully aware of who is going to be our mayor

in ’47… Hamilton hasn’t had the privilege of having such a popular mayor since the late Charles

Booker. The general belief prevailing at the moment is that providing our present incumbent is

spared, this city will be honoured for a long time.”154

A “Democrat” advised the Spectator’s

readers that the summer had seen a blossoming of democracy. “We suffered that mankind could

march forward. What has happened in Hamilton this year had to happen, for if the workers had

submitted to that order-in-council, they would have lost their liberty. Therefore I conclude that

Sister Henderson is on the wrong side of the fence.”155

The Classified News, noting her

contradictory views about labour, seen in her ostensible support for civic workers as contrasted

152 Hamilton Spectator, “They Disgrace it,” 21 November 1946.

153 Classified News, “Back Sam Lawrence,” 6 December 1946, box 1, file 2, Charles Pollicott fonds, QUA.

154 December Nine, letter to the editor, “Still Thinks He is Best Mayor Ever,” Hamilton Spectator, 28

November 1946. 155

Democrat, letter to the editor, “Has a Theory about Our Summer Chaos,” Hamilton Spectator, 4

November 1946.

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with her summer-time anti-strike activism, accused her of “endeavouring to ride two horses.”156

“The workers of the city decided [after Henderson crossed the picket lines] to ‘Remember

December,’” the article continued, “and their memory is as clear to-day as it was on those

occasions of the midsummer.”157

Others demonstrated an intensified belief in the non-partisan ideals of responsibility,

civic service, and duty, and blamed partisanship for tearing the city apart. “Liberalism,

Conservatism, CCF or Communism have no right inside the City Hall… Let us see that our fair

city will not be besmirched again with what took place last summer. The only way to do this is

not to take any chances with our administration in the hands of a political party.”158

“The people

of this city who believe in democracy, (not the sham sort of Communism or Socialism) want to

see a Mayor elected who will represent and uphold this very thing,” wrote a “Citizen” who feared

conservative vote splitting, “Could it be possible for some responsible group of people to warn

them of the odium in which they will be held by their fellow-citizens (are being held) if they, in

this way betray the good cause of this city?”159

Despite a heated election which saw two deliberately chosen mayoral candidates face off

against each other, a full field of nine Board of Control candidates, and contests in every

aldermanic race, Hamilton’s municipal elections produced few surprise results. While the turnout

was a record high 65%, respectable by any measure, the results were most shocking as a

demonstration of Hamilton’s ideological stability.160

As the Spectator’s bewildered editorial put

it, the election “bestowed lavish majorities on standout candidates who for twelve tempestuous

156 Classified News, “Nora Attempts to Ride Two Horses,” 6 December 1946, file 2, Charles Pollicott

fonds, QUA. 157

Ibid. 158

One of the Electorate, letter to the editor, “Perhaps These Industries Are so Bad,” Hamilton Spectator,

28 November 1946. 159

Citizen, letter to the editor, “City’s Split Vote is Seen as Disastrous,” Hamilton Spectator, 4 November

1946. 160

Hamilton Spectator, “Largest Percentage Ever of Electors Casts Votes,” 10 December 1946.

291

months have had about the same affinities as the Kilkenny Cats.”161

Mayor Lawrence, catching an

early lead and never giving up, returned with a proportionally usual majority over his

opponent.162

He polled strongest in Wards Five through Eight. His largest majority of almost

4,000 votes came from the most north-easterly riding of Ward Eight, which encircled the large

steel mills and the harbour.163

Henderson maintained her first chair seat of the Board of Control,

with Hamiltonians, said the Spectator, “paying tribute to a courageous and forceful personality in

Hamilton’s City Council – one who expressed her opinions without heed of the consequences.”164

Her 3,000-vote lead was again in proportion to her past electoral successes. She was joined by a

record number of women on the Board of Control and City Council, including Controller Helen

Anderson and Alderman Ellen Fairclough. It was perhaps surprise winner Anderson whose

change in position spoke most strongly to the radicalization of Hamilton’s working classes,

because she had run for the Communist LPP and won at the expense of the more moderate CCF

candidates. She had served as a union organizer and a Ward Seven Alderman and had first been

elected in the 1944 election for the 1945 city council.165

161 Hamilton Spectator, “The City Chose People,” 10 December 1946.

162 Hamilton Spectator, “Lawrence Re-Elected Mayor,” 10 December 1946.

163 Hamilton Spectator, “Mayoralty,” 10 December 1946. This ward was part of Lawrence’s Hamilton East

provincial riding and was largely composed of workers. This ward had previously elected Agnes Sharpe,

and was adjacent to Ward Seven, which had previously elected Helen Anderson. 164

Hamilton Spectator, “Controller Henderson Heads Field with Anderson Second,” 10 December 1946. 165

Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1945, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1945 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1946), 2 January 1945.

292

Figure 16: Helen Anderson on election day, Hamilton, 7 December 1949. Source: PreView image

collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Hamilton Spectator Collection, Hamilton Public Library.

Anderson’s election as a Communist in a city of former liberal non-partisan politicians

was remarkable indeed. She polled highest in the working-class districts of Ward Five, Six, Seven

and Eight, far outstripping Henderson in those wards (by as much as 2,000 votes in Ward

Eight).166

Anderson’s electoral domination of these wards spoke to many residents’ support for a

candidate in favour of radical change, their adamant dislike of Henderson, and their rejection of

the more traditional labour candidates. Roy Aindow had served as an Alderman in Ward Eight,

where he polled well, from 1939 until 1942 and had remained active in CCF politics in the

interim, running federally in Hamilton East in 1940 and 1945 and serving as CCF Council riding

President.167

He was also an active trade unionist. However, the city’s complete rejection of all

the CCF candidates indicated that along with the loss of the moderate labourites in the city went

166 Hamilton Spectator, “Hamilton Board of Control Results,” 10 December 1946. Henderson in turn out-

polled her by 2,000 to 3,000 votes in Wards One, Two, and Three, and 1,000 votes in Ward Four. 167

Pamphlet, “Elect Ex-Alderman Roy Aindow for Controller,” November 1946, box 1, file 7, William

Neff Papers, QUA; Pamphlet, “Elect Roy Aindow for Hamilton East,” June 1945, box 1, file 7, William

Neff Papers, QUA

293

the CCF’s main body of support. While Communists had comfortably walked the picket lines,

and Lawrence had happily mingled with crowds big and small, the other CCF candidates had

voted with Lawrence but avoided visible affiliation with the strike.

Anderson’s more radical campaign slogan, “Hamilton At the Crossroads,” said it all.168

No longer were workers willing to elect middle-of-the-road candidates. She could boast a record

of supporting the strikers in 1946. While the CCF had made some token appearances on the line,

Anderson “walked on the picket lines shoulder to shoulder with her fellow citizens. She helped

prevent the use of outside police, which would have turned Hamilton in to a city of bloodshed.”169

She additionally had a platform that appealed to both the strikers and their wives. She called for

“low-cost homes for workers and vets, better health services, including free milk for school

children, more recreational facilities to keep your children from the dangers of the streets.” 170

And she had actually used her year as alderman to petition for these changes. Much as

Henderson’s femininity had helped her in her initial elections, Anderson was considered part of

the “feminine section” of city hall.171

Yet Anderson was also the first Communist elected in

Hamilton, a significant about-face from the red-scare years of the 1930s and ’40s. The election of

this “politician of great energy, intelligence, and resourcefulness,” from “the extreme Left” of the

city, suggested how the city had changed.172

For better or for worse the summer had polarized the

city, and Anderson’s second-place finish behind Henderson for Board of Control marked where

168 Pamphlet, “Vote for Helen Anderson Labour’s Candidate for Board of Control,” November 1946, box

21, file 2, Kenny Collection, TFRBL. 169

Pamphlet, “Vote for Helen Anderson,” November 1946, Kenny Collection, TFRBL. 170

Ibid.; Helen Anderson, Alderman, motion to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1946 Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1946 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1947), 12 November 1946; Helen Anderson, Alderman,

notice of motion to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1946 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1946

(Hamilton, Ontario: 1947), 12 March 1946; James Newell, Alderman, motion to the City of Hamilton, City

Council, 1946 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1946 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1947), 28 May 1946. On

family and women’s issues, such as the coal crisis and milk crisis, Henderson and Anderson often voted

together demonstrating that while Henderson lost favour with strikers she maintained her own personal

stance on women’s issues. 171

Hamilton Spectator, “The City Chose People,” 10 December 1946. 172

Ibid.

294

one of the dividing lines would lie, as far away from the liberal politics favoured by Mitchell and

the ILP in the early 1930s as one could imagine.

The Legacy of 1946: A Centennial to Remember

In the fall of 1946 W. Denis Whitaker, who had served as director of the Hamilton

centennial and its citizens’ committees, was formally congratulated on a job well done during a

city council meeting.173

City officials were so pleased with the results that the Board of Control

proposed a formal resolution of appreciation, which was easily passed by council. The Mayor

praised Whitaker for pulling off the celebrations at a cost of only $320,000, which was “but a

third of what similar celebrations had cost other municipalities.”174

Despite the fact the summer

had been marred by strikes and arrests, council and the Board of Control reflected positively on

the event. Volunteer citizen organizers received the most praise and Whitaker emphasized their

role in ensuring the event went off smoothly. The widely attended events had failed to generate

much money, only pulling in just under $8,000, but it had brought much needed cheer to the city,

and that was enough for city council.

The Spectator’s own retrospective on the centennial was one of its most pessimistic to

date, stunning given the depression and war that the city had survived. Unlike city council, which

had been transformed along with the political and labour situation in the city, The Spectator’s

resistance to change had been fortified by the summer of labour unrest. The Spectator’s editors

reflected on the effect of the “worst crisis in its long industrial history” upon Hamilton’s

centenary year.175

Strikers and non-strikers, though sharing many interests and aspirations, now

saw their city in mutually incompatible ways. And who was to blame? Unsurprisingly,

communist agitators and outsiders were on the Spectator’s list of those who sought to “use [the

173 Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1946 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1946 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1947), 18 September 1946. 174

Hamilton Spectator, “Laud Committee for Great Work on Centennial,” 19 September 1946. 175

Hamilton Spectator, “A Summer Storm Cools Off,” 28 October 1946.

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strike] for selfish ends.”176

These interlopers had ruined what should otherwise have been a joyful

year. They had helped inflict a “great wound inflicted on the city’s morale, its prestige and its

very name.”177

As the debates in Parliament and Mackenzie King’s own reflections demonstrate, the

paper was right in believing that Hamilton’s image would be forever transformed by this summer

of so-called civil unrest. The strikes of 1946 would leave a permanent mark on the city’s past, but

not the dirty smear that The Spectator predicted. Instead they propelled Hamilton into a new

symbolic role – that of a birthplace of collective bargaining and workers’ rights in Canada.

Hamilton’s working men and unions would look back on Hamilton’s centennial year with

fond memories as well, but instead of remembering the city’s past they looked to its future. In a

radio presentation given by the Labor Arts Guild of Hamilton, a joint effort of the United

Committee of the Hamilton TLC and the HDLC, on 5 December 1946 over CHML, Hamiltonians

were presented with a different picture of what the centennial meant to them during a program in

support of Sam Lawrence’s re-election. Thanks to Sam Lawrence, the broadcast bragged that

“1946 was Hamilton’s year – in the news and in history – a year to be looked on as one that

began a new era for the city.”178

According to the city’s unions, the centennial marked not a

celebration of a great history, but rather the end of a century of oppression. “Yes sir,” the radio

program ran, “1946 has marked the end of 100 years of Hamilton’s history – the 100 years of the

majority being exploited in the interests of a few – the beginning of an era in which the majority

can work together in the interests of each other.”179

The program went on to speak of Lawrence’s

great contribution to “you, the people,” and his ongoing aims for civic labour improvements. It

was Lawrence’s views on equality, fraternity, and social advancement that the movement hoped

176 Ibid.

177 Ibid.

178 Radio Transcript “Hamilton’s Real Centennial,” Hamilton Trades and Labour Council and Hamilton

Labour Council, 5 December 1946, box 116, file 9, UEW Local 504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 179

Ibid.

296

the city would continue to embody. For the labour movement, an age of collective bargaining and

social progress lay ahead. This progress would include an end to price controls, better housing

conditions, more jobs for veterans, and better transportation.180

Such a vision of the future

suggested a break, both with the more established Conservative population and the more

conservative trade union movement. Such declarations were also revealing of how deeply the city

was now divided. While for the labour movement, the “greater good” implied improvements to

working and social conditions for the city’s workers and their families, for many in the city it still

spoke to the civic community as a whole, including everyone from workers to politicians to

financiers. These clashing conceptions came to a head during Hamilton’s extraordinary year in

1946.

Hamilton’s centennial year had been intended as a year of celebration and self-

congratulation. This picture-perfect commemoration was impeded from the beginning by slow-

moving labour negotiations, a halting post-war recovery, and a summer of violent unrest that saw

neighbourhoods divided between strikers and strike-breakers, and the link as a whole between

labour rights and the “public good.” Parades, national displays, sports days, and picnics continued

but 1946 would persist in the public memory as the year of labour. The city had been transformed

irrevocably by pressures of war and these changes were reflected in the political discussions and

ongoing labour disputes that rippled through the city until the early 1950s. However, with a

legacy dating back a century, Conservatives – now called the Progressive Conservative Party of

Canada - were not willing to relinquish their former stronghold so easily. The party’s tactics and

disputes in municipal politics spoke to both the transformation of these organizations and the

changing definitions of key concepts that had shaped Hamilton’s civic identity. While self-

sacrifice, public duty, dedication to one’s community, improvement, and progress remained

touchstones for the next generation’s politicians, their meanings had changed.

180 Ibid.

297

Chapter 9: A City in Turmoil: Hamilton’s Tenuous Reconciliation to

Post-war Profit and Conservatively Progressive Reforms

After the post-war strikes were settled, predictions from The Spectator, the Chamber of

Commerce and businessmen that these strikes marked the end of the city were proven false.

Speedily the city recovered its industrial reputation and attracted new industries including a

much-coveted new Studebaker of Canada factory. This new north-end venture, housed in a

transformed wartime airplane engine plant, was soon to be the model of post-war refurbishment.

In it one found state-of-the-art quality control, staff training, and efficiency standards.1 Maclean’s

Magazine confirmed Hamilton’s industrial status in 1948 with an article entitled “Anything Made

Here,” which celebrated Hamilton and the “pioneering vitality of her 180,000 people.”2 While it

noted the city’s “national notoriety… boosted by reports on her big and warlike strikes, her

fantastic murder cases, and her reputed importance in… bootlegging traffic,” it concluded “there

is plenty of loveliness to the city… and around the dock, the workshops hum and the smoky

beacons of industry reach to the sky.”3 The city might have returned to its former industrial path

to progress but that did not mean that its industrial struggles had been forgotten.4 Before the

decade of the 1950s had progressed beyond its first year, the city would once again face

1 Manual, “Introducing Quality Control,” June 1951, box 2, Studebaker Company of Canada Limited fonds,

AofO; Report, “Operations of a Methods Department,” by James. F. Foley, Director, Products and Methods

Research, Remington Rand Inc., ~1950, box 1, Studebaker Company of Canada Limited fonds, AofO;

Speech by given H.B. Myers, Comptroller, International Harvester Company, at the Hamilton Chapter of

the National Office Management Association, 10 March 1951, box 1, Studebaker Company of Canada

Limited fonds, AofO 2 Eva-Lis Wuorio, “Anything Made Here,” Maclean’s Magazine, 11 July 1948.

3 Ibid.

4 While the historiography has broadly presented the 1950s as times of affluence, they largely fail to focus

on these awkward years of transition between war and prosperity. Studies of consumption often brush over

this period, starting after the 1950s had begun. The memory of the Depression and the Second World War

left many individuals feeling an increased amount of uncertainty about how to plan for the coming decades,

rather than the optimism we see discussed in the dominant literature. As Joy Parr points out in her analysis

of post-1945 spending, expenditures did pick up but were made slowly and carefully. These cautious

purchases reflected the transition from needs-based spending to wants-based spending predicated upon

continuing prosperity. Joy Parr, Domestic Goods: The Material, the Moral and the Economic in the Postwar

Years (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999) 6-10. Lizabeth Cohen also acknowledges the

importance of such tentativeness in her exploration of the subject in the US. Lizabeth Cohen, A

Consumers’ Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Knopf, 2003).

298

important questions about what it meant to be a worker and a citizen – which identity was most

important, and how the city’s government, often in tandem with that of Ontario, could maintain

order within a radically re-ordered world.

In Depression-era Hamilton the notion of the liberty of the individual pervaded civic

ideology. However, this did not prevent the city from taking on more debt in order to serve its

citizens of all classes. Faced with the responsibility to serve its citizens, its mayors and Board of

Control chose to both go into debt and institute moderate, not extreme, tax-hikes, balancing the

needs of the citizens with its concerns over bankruptcy. This was in stark contrast to the fiscally

responsible relationship between the city and its citizens in the post-war era. Postwar Hamilton

evinced a different pattern, one that suggested a different relationship between the citizen and a

state now committed, at least to an extent, to promoting public welfare. Paradoxically, this did not

lead to a greater ideological emphasis on serving the city as a whole, but rather to a stress on the

city as a corporation, whose stakeholders deserved low taxes and a thrifty business-oriented

government. It was a transition typified by Ellen Fairclough, who in the 1950s transitioned from

city councillor to Hamilton MP. Alongside older imperial ideals of order and hierarchy,

Fairclough developed a strong emphasis on protecting the individual and his or her home, rather

than on improving society as a whole.

In this age of changing politics, a garbage strike – the city’s first major public-sector

labour dispute – highlighted how radically transformed was the landscape of both labour and

politics in 1950s Canada. It began in the summer of 1950 following almost five years of

negotiations regarding wages, job stability, and working conditions. During this strike, the

interests of the municipal state, its employees, and its citizens were all intermingled. As

divergent ideological positions cohered, disputes among these groups intensified. These conflicts

brought discussions of who was included in the public and the public interest to the forefront.

Labour movements in the city faced resistance from those who championed the ideal of the tax-

299

payer citizen and had to radicalize their tactics. This change resulted in the growth of extreme

options on either end of the spectrum. The LPP gained support among radicalized groups of

workers. However, the increasingly affluent white-collar and manufacturing workers in the city

were not wooed by the LPP, especially in the increasingly tense Cold War climate. The

Progressive Conservatives, their very name the epitome of the mixed messages of the day, crafted

in Hamilton a discourse that dwelt upon the family unit and their privileged capacity to uphold it.

With the decline of the city’s older politicians and their ideals, a new generation of politicians

arose, unafraid of partisan politics, especially in the face of what they perceived to be extremism.

The Demise of the Politician as Public Servant

Perhaps the most dramatic change in Hamilton’s post-war era was its political transition

from Depression-era politicians to a new group of leaders. Nora-Frances Henderson announced

her retirement from municipal politics to the Hamilton Spectator first, on 14 October 1947. Public

opinion from the reform-minded Hamilton News suggested her “considerable notoriety” among

the city’s working classes would have prevented her from winning another election and so

resignation offered her a graceful way out of political life.5 The Spectator, once her fiercest

enemy during her early days, challenged any such suggestions. It celebrated her for having

“shown not only an unusual grasp of municipal government but [also exemplifying] in great

degree those invaluable and exceedingly rare traits of straight political honesty and courage. She

has taken politically unpopular stands, [and] has won at the same time universal admiration for

her devotion to principle.”6

Praise and damnation were forthcoming from those who either admired or reviled her.

But as always, Henderson would not let the press have the last word. Her resignation also

highlighted a long-discussed problem Henderson had aired with City Council and the Board of

5 Hamilton News, “Council Veteran to Retire from Civic Arena,” 14 October 1947.

6 Hamilton Spectator, “Controller Henderson,” 18 September 1947.

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Control. After the war, she had begun petitioning for higher wages for city politicians, an

argument that seemed ironic at best as many Hamiltonians struggled with making ends meet in an

economically scarred post-war city.7 Henderson argued that the life of civic dedication she and

others on council had lived would be impossible in the future without better pay. Most councillors

continued at their day jobs because their aldermanic pay was insufficient. Even controllers who

aspired to live according to the altruistic ideal had been known to pick up work on the side. Ellen

Fairclough, a new member of council in 1947, reflected in her memoirs that she kept her

accounting practice open throughout her time on council for economic reasons, since the $400 a

month a councillor was paid was insufficient for a family.8 So on her retirement Henderson

publicly explained that while civic life held many enticements, financial benefits were not among

them. Running again, she reflected, “would only have delayed the time when I would have to

settle myself in a more secure position in life.”9 She continued her work for the betterment of

women and children’s lives through a position as Executive Secretary of the Ontario Children’s

Aid Society.

Her dream of financial security was short-lived. She died only sixteen months into her

retirement on 23 March 1949. Tributes poured in from across the province, but her one-time rival,

still Mayor Lawrence, was conspicuously absent from the funeral. Away at the Conference of

United States Mayors in Washington, D.C., Mayor Lawrence had another controller call in their

mutual condolences, offering “deepest sympathies” that seemed rather lukewarm in the context of

page-long tributes from others across the province.10

This division of opinions was reflected in

the News coverage. Effusive pages of praise and mourning were notably absent and instead her

7 Hamilton Spectator, “Women Controllers Question Working Wife Policy,” 7 February 1947; Meeting of

City of Hamilton, City Council, 1947 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1947 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1948),

11 February 1947. 8 Ellen Louks Fairclough, Saturday’s Child: Memoirs of Canada’s First Female Cabinet Minister (Toronto:

University of Toronto Press, 1995), 61-3. 9 Hamilton Spectator, “We Lose One More,” 15 October 1947.

10 Hamilton Spectator, “Tributes are Paid Great Lady,” 24 March 1949.

301

funeral received merely a formal and fact-focused notice.11

Regardless of public opinion about

her service, Henderson was recognized unanimously for her dedication to her causes, namely

women and children, the city itself, and public order. To honour her memory a committee

composed of members of the city council and the mayor decided that the new children’s and

maternity hospital she had endlessly promoted on council should be named in her memory.12

While Lawrence did not join Henderson in retirement in the immediate post-war era, he

did step down from his mayoral seat in 1949.13

The popular mayor then received his own tributes.

Controller Andrew Hamilton Frame toasted him in council:

He displayed outstanding aptitude for municipal work. His precept based on

courage, courtesy and integrity marked him as one well fitted for the onerous

duties he has so ably discharged…. His opinions ably expressed were of great

assistance to his associates in forming the policies of the corporation. His

leadership in this epoch has surely guided this Council safely and finds a

thankful citizenry.14

Lawrence would not stay retired for long. Prompted by the irresolute profile of labour on council

during the civic strike, he ran for controller again in 1950 and won his seat, which he would hold

until 1956.15

However, his 1950 re-election saw some of the poorest returns he had ever

experienced and his popularity never really recovered.16

Suffering from chest pains and almost 80

years old, he retired from public life in 1956 and died in 1958 at the age of 80.17

11 Hamilton News, “Wide Tribute will be Paid Woman Leader,” 25 March 1947.

12 Ellen Fairclough, Alderman, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1949 Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1949 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1950), 12 April 1949. The Hospital was completed in 1957 and

was praised as “one of ‘the few civilized examples’ [of institutional architecture]. Its mass – although not

the largest of hospitals, it does occupy a good deal of ground – is handled with restraint, and a real effort

has been made to lighten the structure.” J.D Kyles, “Nora-Frances Henderson Hospital, Hamilton,” The

Canadian Architect no. 2 (August 1957): 47-51. 13

Andrew Hamilton Frame, Controller, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1949 Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1949 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1950), 28 December 1949. 14

Ibid. 15

Lloyd D. Jackson, Mayor, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1951 Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1949 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1952), 2 January 1951. 16

Hamilton Spectator, “Lawrence Tumbles to Fourth Place,” 2 December 1953; Hamilton Spectator,

“MacDonald’s Strong Run Marks Controller Voting,” 2 December 1952; Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor is

Pleased By Attitude of Public in Voting,” 13 December 1951; Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Jackson’s

Administration Endorsed in Board Vote,” 7 December 1950. 17

Toronto Star, “Sam Lawrence, 80, Dies,” 26 October 1959.

302

By 1950, as these political veterans faded from the scene, the city’s political landscape

had been transformed. Lloyd D. Jackson, mayor of the city from 1950 until 1962, was a former

businessman. His council reflected a philosophical change. What had once been a body that

championed the disinterested pursuit of the greater good became centered on business principles.

When Henderson retired, he Hamilton Spectator had marked the shift from a rhetoric of service to

one based on corporate principles. Out, it lamented, was the “straight business of sound

government,” based on morals and doing the right thing; in were politicians looking for “the

furtherance of personal careers or political theories.”18

Rather than harkening back to the good

old days, as the Spectator might have wished, the Corporation of the City of Hamilton used its

renewed drive to reposition itself as a business entity, a service provider, a modernizing force,

and an employer. The city underwent sweeping changes under the leadership of Jackson. He was

the embodiment of the new-style politician, of a type the Spectator initially claimed to fear but

ended up loving.

Striking Out Against Civic Order: Public Unions in a Post-War Context

While the strikes of 1946 earned Hamilton national headlines and have remained a strong

part of the city’s public memory, Hamilton experienced another strike of comparable significance

in the summer of 1950. The strike of the city’s outside workers (referring to non-white-collar

workers employed by the city such as garbage men, landscapers, construction workers, grave

diggers, and workers in similar open-air physical jobs) brought labour conflicts to the doorsteps

of the city’s population.19

As garbage piled up, citizens organized to bury their own dead. Many

18 Hamilton Spectator, “We Lose Once More,” 14 October 1947.

19 Brief of the National Organization of Civic Utility and Electrical Workers (C.C.L) on Behalf of its Local

5, Hamilton Civic Employees Union, 20 June 1950, box 29, file 1, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC.

Specialized gardeners, such as those employed by the City’s Royal Botanical Gardens, were covered under

the same agreement later, due to the seasonal and specialized nature of their working conditions and

employment. Letter to the Certification Board of the CUPE regarding unions at the Royal Botanical

Gardens, ~1953, box 1, file 3, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC.

303

feared what the strike would mean for the spread of contagious diseases like polio and diphtheria.

The entire city and all its citizens were forced to discuss questions about the responsibilities of

Hamilton regarding fair and reasonable taxation, the use of taxes for wage increases, the

responsibility of citizens and their city as employers, and what it meant to be part of a

community. CUPE Local 5’s own records from the strike, the often opposing views of the

conservative Spectator and the labour-minded News as they tried to balance their readers’ rage

with their political positions, and the response of the new decidedly non-labour Mayor Jackson,

all demonstrated the importance of changing ideas of citizenship.

After years of financial shortage during the Depression and labour shortages during the

Second World War, Hamilton’s Public Works Department returned to normal employment

conditions after the war.20

While requests for sidewalks, service installations, road construction,

and trolley routes were at an all-time high, staff levels were kept deliberately low.21

City works

became a possible form of permanent employment again, rather than a temporary stop-gap used

to fill in city needs or provide relief. Workers in these departments began to push for an

investigation into “the inequalities (if any) in the various Civic Departments.”22

The initial motion

to carry out the study was lost in council by a significant thirteen-to-four vote. The motion was

later brought before the Board of Control, where it was passed as part of an agreement to allow

civic employees to form a union shop.23

By October 1947, the process had begun. An advisory

Personnel Committee was established to which workers and their unions were to report on their

current wages and working conditions. It was composed of two members of the city’s works

department, two members of the Federation of Canadian Civic Employees’ Union, and Alderman

20 W.H. Collins, “Annual Report of Deputy City Engineer,” Annual Reports of the City Engineer,

Hamilton, Ontario For the Years 1949 and 1950, W.L. McFaul, City Engineer, editor (Hamilton, Ontario:

Corporation of the City of Hamilton, 1951), 12-13, Engineering and Works Papers, RG-16, HRCH, HPL 21

W.L. McFaul, “Report of the City Engineer’s Department,” Annual Reports of the City Engineer,

Hamilton, Ontario For the Years 1949 and 1950, W.L. McFaul, City Engineer, editor (Hamilton, Ontario:

Corporation of the City of Hamilton, 1951), 2-3, Engineering and Works Papers, RG-16, HRCH, HPL. 22

Samuel Leslie Parker, Alderman, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1946 Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1946 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1947), 28 May 1946. 23

Hamilton Spectator, “Approve Union Shop Principle for Civic Employees,” 15 January 1947.

304

Parker.24

This process was eventually completed by the end of 1948 and compiled in an

authoritative report in 1949. It resulted in the reassessment of the city’s wage and salary scales.

The Wage and Salary Report served as a crucial jumping-off point for the city’s newly-

unified union to begin its concerted negotiations for its first collective agreement with the city.

The report included listings for each job, including promotion rates by seniority and gender.25

Civic workers in Hamilton had previously organized as part of the American Federation of Labor,

then under the Trades and Labour Congress of Canada, and finally under the Canadian Congress

of Labour as the Hamilton Civic Employees Union. Finally organized as CUPE Local 5, these

workers began the process of developing collective agreements with the city. These agreements

were intended to cover all workers in the union and regulate their varied conditions. Before this

could be achieved, the union and city first needed to clearly define the jobs of those included in

the public works department.26

As in many collective bargaining negotiations, both during the war and after it, CUPE

Local 5 and its predecessor’s demands had largely focused on establishing a non-subjective pay

scale across the bargaining unit based on job, experience and seniority, not on the bosses’ whim.

They also sought regulated working hours, with initial demands for both a 40-hour work week

and guaranteed year-round employment without seasonal lay-offs.27

These regulations, seen as

offering remedies for the all-too-common phenomenon of seasonal employment, were especially

important to the civic employees union.28

From the earliest days of the introduction of these ideas

to council and the Board of Control, people worried about the costs involved for taxpayers. As

24 Hamilton Spectator, “Allow Civic Unions to State Cases on Job Classification,” 16 October 1947.

25 “Wage and Salary Classifications for the Corporation of the City of Hamilton, 1949,” box 15, file 31,

CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC. 26

The oral histories cited in this chapter were originally collected by CUPE Local 5 member Ed Thomas

for his history of the union, The Crest of the Mountain: The Rise of CUPE Local Five in Hamilton. This

internally written, published and researched history provides excellent insight into a member’s perspective

into the union and their advancements. Ed Thomas, The Crest of the Mountain: The Rise of CUPE Local

Five in Hamilton (Hamilton, Ontario: Canadian Union of Public Employees Local 5, 1995). 27

Hamilton Spectator, “Civic Employees’ Union to Apply for 40-Hour Week,” 4 January 1946. 28

For more on seasonal employment and its traditional roots see Struthers, No Fault of Their Own;

Struthers, The Limits of Affluence.

305

the Spectator wrote about the debate, implementing such a system would entail “considerable”

costs over the seasonal system under which the city had been working and “[m]embers of council

[were] confident only a miracle could prevent an increase in the tax-rate.”29

Given that the

Depression and the war had brought the city’s tax rate up to 46.5 mills, further increases were

seen as very undesirable.30

The Spectator’s report of council’s concerns was accurate. The city had been attempting

actively and vigorously to pay down debenture payments drawn by the city both during the

Depression and the war. Payments such as the $450,000 put towards the debts and their interests

in 1945 would become much more difficult to make with the added burden of increased labour

costs.31

Winter conditions still caused real work interruptions, even with the post-war drive for

construction. The city was unsure how it would carry that burden.32

Various proposals, overseen

by the Ontario Labour Relations Board, were slowly sent back and forth between the city and its

workers. Sticking points included these wage questions and also the implementation of Rand

Formula clause in new agreements. However, it became painfully obvious that the union and the

city were speaking different languages in negotiations. The city officials viewed achieving low

tax levels for all citizens as their key priority, especially in light of ongoing cost-of-living

struggles. CUPE Local 5 was unwilling to compromise on unifying the city’s disparate unions

and implementing a consistent employment regime. Lawrence was committed to the union and

their goal to end “that annual individual struggl[e] and competitio[n] for pay increases before the

Board of Control,” but he was personally unable to bring about a collective agreement before his

29 Hamilton Spectator, “Civic Employees’ Union to Apply for 40-Hour Week,” 4 January 1946.

30 Estimated budget for 1950, presented by Lloyd Jackson, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council,

1950 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1950 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1951), 14 March 1950. 31

Hamilton Spectator, “Civic Employees’ Union to Apply for 40-Hour Week,” 4 January 1946. 32

W.H. Collins, “Annual Report of Deputy City Engineer,” Annual Reports of the City Engineer,

Hamilton, Ontario For the Years 1945 and 1946, W.L. McFaul, City Engineer, editor (Hamilton, Ontario:

Corporation of the City of Hamilton, 1951), 8, Engineering and Works Papers, RG-16, HRCH, HPL.

306

retirement, and so the process fell to his successor, Mayor Jackson.33

What the labour Mayor

could not bring about by negotiation, the business-oriented Mayor Jackson de-prioritized entirely,

causing the city to descend into the most severe crisis of labour it had seen since the summer of

1946.

Lloyd D. Jackson is now remembered by most Hamiltonians as the namesake of the

city’s financially ill-fated, modernist, subterranean downtown shopping centre, Lloyd D. Jackson

Square. Jackson’s actual political career has fallen out of the public memory. Posthumously

described as having “ruled city hall with an iron hand,” Jackson’s tenure as mayor would mark a

change from service as usual to business as usual.34

The tone and focus of his mayoralty was a

drastic transition from the city-focused political decisions of the past two decades to the new

business politics of the post-war era.

Jackson could not have constituted a more dramatic contrast to Lawrence. He himself

unsubtly drew this parallel, without any direct name-dropping, when he highlighted the fact that

he was a businessman first and a politician second in his first mayoral campaign. “Do I need to

sit on the council for years to know [its] short-sightedness?” Jackson asked in his campaign radio

address, “The council [gives] leadership in city affairs, to decide policies, and to interpret the

wishes of the people. This leadership calls for broad, practical business experience. It calls for

civic-minded, public-spirited men of affairs to make the personal sacrifice to take on this job.”35

His strong leadership and personality-oriented campaign marked a stark departure from the ideals

of service championed by former mayors. Jackson was there to serve – but there to serve as a

leader, with business and not the public interest in mind. With a mind for money, taxes, and

33 Samuel Lawrence, Mayor, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1947 Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1947 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1948), 6 January 1947; Samuel Lawrence, Mayor, speaking to the

City of Hamilton, City Council, 1948 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1948 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1949),

5 January 1948; Samuel Lawrence, Mayor, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1949 Minutes

of Hamilton City Council, 1947 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1950), 3January 1949. 34

Toronto Star, “Lloyd D. Jackson, 85, ex-Hamilton mayor,” 12 September 1973. 35

Hamilton News, “Jackson Says City’s Affairs Should Be Run on Sound Lines,” 22 November 1949.

307

budget management, Jackson cut a very different figure as mayor than Lawrence, who had

walked the picket lines personally for the benefit of others.

Figure 17: Lloyd D. Jackson pictured with his wife, Susan, upon his election, Hamilton, 9 December 1949.

Source: PreView image collection, HPL. Reproduced courtesy of Hamilton Spectator Collection, Hamilton

Public Library.

Jackson wisely played to strengths his opponents, both former civic politicians, clearly

lacked. While Jackson had neither an extensive civic service record nor experience as mayor, he

emphasized his managerial expertise derived from decades in business. “No Politics,” his

grinning campaign ads read, “Just Common Sense.”36

Jackson was a former bread mogul who

had expanded a single bakery into a successful coast-to-coast wheat and flour business. He had

served on the Board of Education and Board of Health for five years before making his run for

mayor.37

Jackson’s platform focussed on the slow pace of post-war development in the city.

Wartime population growth had pushed Hamilton’s limits. Community development, proper

garbage disposal locations, and the development of escarpment access roads had become pressing

issues with which Jackson promised to deal swiftly and efficiently.38

He proposed to modernize

36 Hamilton News, Campaign Ad, “Lloyd Jackson, Popular Choice for Mayor,” 2 December 1949.

37 Hamilton Spectator, “Lloyd D. Jackson,” 11 November 1949.

38 Ibid.

308

the city and city council, which he saw as out-of-date with respect to the requirements of planning

and development. He claimed to have “no particular interests in this city, just people – people in

all walks of life who make up this city. The only special interests I will serve, as I have tried to do

all my life… are the interests of those unable to help themselves.”39

His “vigorous indictment of

the present City Council, including of its tardiness and unwillingness to face up to the

responsibilities of government of a rapidly-expanding city,” had even been echoed in the News

whose editorial column often carried complaints about the speed of progress at City Hall.40

He

wanted to “Infuse New Ideas, Action, and Business Leadership Into City Council.”41

His

broadcasts, reprinted in both the News and the Spectator, condemned City Hall and its record of

doing nothing.

Running against two candidates who were part of the “mess” at City Hall, Jackson found

favour with many Hamiltonians. He won an overwhelming majority, receiving 31,800 votes

compared to his closest competitor’s 9,444 votes.42

Around 48.2% of eligible voters had turned

out, which was a typical turnout for Hamilton’s municipal elections. The election also saw the

Conservative Ellen Fairclough take the top controller seat on the Board of Control, where she was

joined by the Conservative alderman W.K. Warrender.43

All but one of the members of the Board

of Control were new to their positions. With the exception of a very few seats on council,

Hamilton had the new civic government for which Jackson had hoped. The Spectator celebrated

39 Ibid.

40 Hamilton News, “Lloyd Jackson Slams City Hall --- Will Make Bid for Mayor,” 11 November 1949;

Hamilton News, “The Do-Nothing Policy,” 4 November 1949. 41

Hamilton News, Campaign Ad “Lloyd Jackson, Popular Choice for Mayor,” 2 December 1949. 42

Hamilton News, “Overwhelming Vote Brings Sweeping Change,” 9 December 1949. Jackson polled well

in all wards, outstripping Frame in every riding by as much as 5,000 votes. His smallest majority was 2,007

votes in Ward Five, as compared with his closest rival’s 1,179. Hamilton Spectator, “Votes for Mayor by

Ward,” 8 December 1949. The smallest turnout was in Ward Five as well, which included central

Hamilton’s business and commercial district. 43

Lloyd D. Jackson, Mayor, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1950 Minutes of Hamilton

City Council, 1950 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1951), 3 January 1950.

309

his win, but the News predicted it would mark the beginning of an age of the “Iron Curtain at

City Hall.”44

Organizing Against Subversives: City Hall and the Organized Labour in a Cold War

Climate

Following the Second World War and the city’s struggle with so-called American-style

Communist-led unions, and in spite of the strong presence of Communist and pro-labour

politicians on council, Hamilton’s city council had already passed strongly worded motions

aligning themselves with the anti-Communist currents rippling across North America. On 28

January 1947, then-Alderman William Warrender, seconded by Ward Five Alderman Francis

Dillion, proposed a motion to the newly-formed council that:

In recognition of the hard work of Canadian Labor for many years to place

Canadian Labor on a higher standard and understanding [and] Whereas, a large

number of A.F. of L. and C.I.O. locals, government organizations, recognizing

the dangers from Communism have publicly come forth and protested and

resolved to fight this danger to the Canadian way of living, and, … Whereas we

view with growing alarm the ability of Canadian Communists to worm their

way into positions of importance in… the field of government… we shall work

diligently to oppose and expose those who may seek influence in our City

Council for the purpose of furthering among our members the anti-Canadian

teachings and aims of the Communists in Canada.45

Presented on 11 February as an obvious jab at the newly-elected Controller Helen Anderson, the

mention provoked intense debate. The eight o’clock p.m. meeting proceeded past eleven,

resulting in the need to waive the Rules of Order of the City Council in order for the debate to

continue.46

However, after hours of discussion and debate, the motion was carried by a vote of

twelve to seven, with members such as Controller Henderson and Aldermen Fairclough and

Warrender in favour, and then-Mayor Lawrence and Controller Anderson opposed. It was an

44 Hamilton News, “Iron Curtain at City Hall?” 6 January 1950; Hamilton News, “No Iron Curtain,

Please!” 6 January 1950. 45

William Kenneth Warrender, Alderman, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1947 Minutes

of Hamilton City Council, 1947 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1948), 28 January 1947. 46

Nora-Frances Henderson, Controller, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1947 Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1947 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1948), 11 February 1947.

310

early sign of the rightward march of politics in the city council. The old elite was responding to

the city’s recent radicalization.

This reactionary Cold War anti-Communist retrenchment was copied throughout the

city’s workplaces. Employer-supported conservative unions were introduced in opposition to

CIO-affiliated unions. Pressure was brought to bear on CIO leaders to declare they were not

communists.47

The chief example of this activity in the city played out at Westinghouse with the

UEW leadership. District President C.S Jackson had become a very public figure in the city

during the Westinghouse UEW strike in 1946 and had been interned during the War on suspicion

that he was involved in Communist activities.48

In the late 1940s as the Canadian Congress of

Labour publicly tightened control of its membership to oust Communist or supposedly

Communist organizations. Jackson was put on trial for his relationship to the CPC. This drama

played out in UEW Local 504’s steward elections and newsletters.

The first attempt to oust the UEW and Jackson on the basis of red baiting was launched

by the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW), led by Reg Hebert, who was

supported by the company as a less-radical alternative to the UEW.49

Hebert’s campaign was

largely based on insulting Jackson and the UEW based on claims that they were Communist and

“against the whole democratic war effort.”50

The leadership under Jackson was accused of

holding too much sway and ejecting people they did not like at the drop of a hat: “Canadian

workers want no Moscow Trials. We want honest, sound, and militant unionism… built on the

needs of the workers in the plants rather than on the political convenience of the Communist

47 On this general pattern in North American see Robert Zieger, The CIO 1935-1955 (Chapel Hill:

University of North Carolina Press, 1995), 253-289. 48

For a full outline of Jackson’s life and activism, see Doug Smith, Cold Warrior: C.S. Jackson and the

United Electrical Workers (St. John’s, Newfoundland: Canadian Committee on Labour History, 1997).

Jackson was despised and targeted by government officials for his involvement in the escalating wartime

and post-war labour movements. Thus, though he was respected and admired by many of the workers he

represented, his abrasive personality made him an easy target. Smith, Cold Warrior, 1-5. 49

Circular regarding C.S. Jackson and Communism produced by Reg Hebert, 29 June 1947, box 116, file

6, UEW Local 504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 50

Ibid.

311

Party.”51

Many of the concerns Hebert and his organizational comrades voiced were echoes of

those expressed by the Stelco inside workers, namely about compulsory union membership and

workplace contracts. However, this older view of unions and company negotiations had seen its

day. Despite holding meetings, releasing circulars, and running candidates in steward’s elections,

the IBEW and Hebert failed to gain traction within the workplace. The union-led “New Deal

Committee” rejected Hebert’s claims by interpreting them as problems the union was already

handling: “We are sick and tired of charges being levelled at our union about the political

domination of the Communist Party. We are even more concerned because unfortunately the

charges are well-founded. This issue must be cleared up.”52

The workers of Westinghouse had the

1946 strike in their memory and were unwilling to relinquish the hard-earned gains they had

made based on Hebert’s accusations alone. While Hebert continued to run stewards against the

UEW “New Deal Committee”, they rarely were successful and eventually the campaign died out.

Accusations that the UEW was full of Communists did not die with the IBEW’s

departure. The UEW was among the more left-wing unions to emerge after the war and did have

members who had been Communists, both in party affiliation and political sympathies.53

Jackson

was publicly suspended from the executive of the CCL and while Hamilton’s locals professed

their support of him consistently, redbaiting did take its toll on his reputation among the rank and

file of the unions.54

Jackson’s relationship with the CPC threatened his ability to serve on the

union’s executive and as president of District Six, which included Hamilton.55

It also left many

leaders in Hamilton’s labour movement unwilling to work with him publicly. The UEW was

ousted from the CCL, came into conflict with other major unions, and in Hamilton suffered the

51 Circular regarding C.S. Jackson, Show Trials, and Communism produced by Reg Hebert, June 1947, box

116, file 6, UEW Local 504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 52

Circular regarding Steward elections produced by the New Deal Committee, 3 June 1947, box 116, file 6,

UEW Local 504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 53

Ronald L. Filippelli and Mark McColloch, Cold War in the Working Class: The Rise and Decline of the

United Electrical Workers (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), 6-10. 54

Circular, “Some Questions,” 6 April 1949, UEW Local 504/550 fonds, box 248, file 1, WRDARC. 55

Filippelli and McColloch, Cold War in the Working Class, 126-130; Abella, Nationalism, Communism,

and Canadian Labour, 151-6.

312

suspension of Locals 504 and 520 from the HDLC.56

The union cautioned the HDLC that

“Redbaiting won’t solve the problems of higher rents, long hours and speed-up. Divisions will

bring defeat after defeat to labor as it did in yesterday’s municipal elections in Hamilton.”57

The

Cold War had come to Hamilton.

Garbage and Graves: The Civic Strike of 1950, a Crisis of Health, Politics, and Labour

As 1950, the first year of Jackson’s mayoralty, continued, some initially questioned his

promise that his would be a new city hall. However, Jackson held firm to his promises of

progress. In the first month of his mayoralty the plans were drawn up and implemented on the

promised new mountain access, enhanced garbage collection, and a personnel department. Union

negotiations began again in earnest.58

Negotiations continued as well on a collective agreement

for the workers of CUPE 5. Once more they bogged down on the same issues of balancing the

taxpayers’ economic interests with the union’s demands. While the “board [of control] assured

[the union] of its sympathy… it couldn’t do a thing about it [standardized wage rates] this year

without raising the mill rate an unacceptable five or six mills.”59

The business mayor was true to

his promise of running the city on a financially stable ground. “The city is bursting at the seams,”

he declared, “It needs new clothes and we have no money to buy them… When it can be done,

you will be the first ones to be considered.”60

The mayor asked the union to wait until Hamilton

reached the all-important 200,000-person population mark, which would render it eligible for

more money under the Ontario Municipal Act. The unhappy John Longworth, then president of

56 Statement by UEW Local 504/520 to the HDLC regarding their suspension, 8 December 1949, UEW

Local 504/550 fonds, box 3, file 21, WRDARC; McInnis, Harnessing Labour Confrontation, 172-6. 57

Ibid. 58

Hamilton News, “‘New Broom’ Council Seen Fulfilling Pledge of Action,” 7 February 1950. 59

Hamilton News, “Civic Union Talks Pleasant but Unproductive,” 21 February 1950. 60

Ibid.

313

CUPE Local 5, had to bring that news back to his union members, who voted against the city’s

rejection of their proposal.61

Jackson’s business-first stance did not hold water with the civic workers concerned for

the stability and security of their jobs. “Once again Mayor Jackson has stated the subservience of

the municipal government to business. This Kow-tow to industry under the leadership of Mayor

Jackson is wrong,” Oliver Hodges of the Canadian Congress of Labour announced in a press

release on behalf of CUPE Local 5. “Mayor Jackson is suggesting that industry and business

should make the rules and set the conditions under which people work. What the majority of

citizens in Hamilton want is strong democratic leadership on behalf of most of the people, not at

the beck and call of the wealthy.”62

The Spectator succinctly summarized Jackson’s position in a

mid-spring editorial,

At a time when civic employees have been restless and pressing for increased

wages, it is scarcely tactful for members of the City Council to be discussing

higher emolument for their services or beating the tom-tom towards that end….

In view of the prevailing stiff tax rate, the general civic situation and all, with

its murmuring over working conditions, it would be less irritating to the

ratepayers at large, and also to city employees, if the representatives of the

people diplomatically let this matter lie dormant until Hamilton’s population

does reach two hundred thousand.63

These polarized perspectives on the issue highlighted the importance of the changing political

and social environment of Hamilton during this period. Under the early guidance of CIO-led

unions, Hamilton’s labour movement had moved away from its traditional, paternalistic, and

peaceable approach to labour relations. Its members were no longer content to wait for a better

time. On the other hand, confronted with the realistic challenges of post-war governance and

61 Hamilton News, “‘I was Misinterpreted’ Mayor’s Reply to Critics,” 10 March 1950. The mayor also was

not a friend of the other civic unions, such as the separate Firemen’s Union. His cheapness and poor labour

relations skills wore on them, as did the mayor’s accusation that some firemen held two jobs, in violation of

their collective agreements. 62

Press Release by Oliver Hodges on behalf of CUPE Local 5, 20 April 1950, box 15, file 2, UEW Local

504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 63

Hamilton Spectator, “Rather Unseasonable,” 2 May 1950. Issues of the Hamilton News run from April

until December 1950 have not survived and so are not available for consultation.

314

budgeting, Hamilton’s city council had shifted its approach as well. They tightened their belts

against all requests for money. Somewhere in the middle lay the average Hamiltonian. The

business-oriented mayor represented his or her electoral desires but not widely-shared personal

experiences. While housing was becoming easier to find in 1950, it was still scarce. Rationing

had just come to an end. The militarized landscape and the feelings of want that had haunted

citizens from Depression, through war, and finally into the post-war period were replaced by a

sense of tentative stability. Jackson’s program spoke to some of the electorate’s concerns. It was a

telling sign of Hamilton’s new politics that Jackson, sometimes too draconian even for a

newspaper like the Spectator, still found himself re-elected again and again.

After nearly four years of negotiations over a new collective agreement, the tensions

reached a peak in June 1950. A private Board of Control vote on forcing the union into arbitration

resulted in a split decision, and forced the issue into the public eye. Such a split vote meant no

compulsory arbitration. It also raised the prospect of a strike. Even the chairman of the Board of

Health chimed in, hoping that the strikers would agree to cooperate for the health of the

children.64

The two sides agreed to conciliation and then waited for the board’s non-binding

report. The union was thought publicly to have time and season in its favour. With negotiations

dragging on into August, the real issue of a summertime garbage strike loomed: “The possibility

of a garbage strike in this, the warmest part of the year, is viewed by the city health department as

a serious one, made more serious in view of the fact that no clear-cut solution can be seen.”65

Despite public pressure to resolve the dispute without a strike, the city refused to budge on wage

increases and scheduling issues. Their position was supported by the board of conciliation’s

report, and so lacking any other option, CUPE Local 5 moved into a strike position.66

64Hamilton Spectator, “Compulsory Arbitration for City Employees Finds Favour,” 26 June 1950.

65 Hamilton Spectator, “Local 5 Conciliation Report Will Be Released Tomorrow,” 28 July 1950.

66 Hamilton Spectator, “Control Board Accepts Majority Report in Local 5 Dispute,” 31 July 1950.

315

As Local 5 began organizing its strike vote over the first week of August, the city

planned to make sure the dispute would unfold as painlessly as possible. Given that this was the

first such strike in the city, no one was exactly sure how it would affect the recently-expanded

population. The Ministry of Health, in cooperation with City Council and at the insistence of the

city’s chief medical officer, Dr. L.A. Clarke, arranged to have garbage dealt with by private

contractors in the event of a strike.67

Summer was already a bad time for polio, tuberculosis, and

other infectious diseases in the city. Many Hamiltonians were worried.68

While some on the City

Council, such as veteran alderman Roy Aindow, pushed for negotiations to continue, the Board of

Control remained inflexible. With no movement from that quarter, Local 5 saw no reason to

continue negotiations, since they obviously were not being conducted in good faith on the city’s

part.69

Hodges, speaking on behalf of the union, announced that the strike vote would go ahead as

planned, telling the Spectator, “Some of the membership feel that they have been taken for a ride

often enough and this time they are getting off.”70

Mayor Jackson continued to arrange for private

contractors to ensure that “the garbage will be collected, the dead buried, and water service

maintained,” in the event of a strike, though speaking directly to the union he stated his “door

[was] still open” for negotiations.71

No matter his public statements, the business mayor was

certainly not fooling the unions. His line against wage and hour increases was firm and inflexible.

On the morning of 10 August the strike began. It was the first time that city council had been so

directly opposed by its own employees. The ultimate showdown between new labour and the new

city would see definitions of solidarity, citizens, the public interest, and rights pushed around by

both the union and city hall as Hamilton struggled through six weeks with no civic road work,

garbage collection, or grave-digging

67 Hamilton Spectator, “Warrender Says Local Five Being Urged to Call Strike,” 2 August 1950.

68 Report on Public Health by the Hamilton Local Council of Women for 1950, 1951, F 798-7-3, Provincial

Council of Women fonds, AofO. 69

Hamilton Spectator, “Plan Supreme Efforts to Prevent Civic Union Strike,” 3 August 1950. 70

Ibid. 71

Hamilton Spectator, “Announcement on Local 5 Strike is Promised for Tonight,” 9 August 1950.

316

Figure 18: CUPE local 5 strikers on the picket line, Hamilton, August 1950. The man in front carries a sign

reading "We were forced to strike by Jackson." Source: PreView image collection, HPL. Reproduced

courtesy of Hamilton Spectator Collection, Hamilton Public Library.

Though the strike progressed through an acrimonious six-week stretch, the union stayed

strong in the face of adversity. As in the 1946 Stelco dispute, strike pay was provided to striking

workers, sandwiches and lunches were donated and served on the picket line, and a general spirit

of good will and joviality was infused into the struggle.72

A “mammoth street dance” was held at

the city’s new incinerator, featuring a stage show with a band and a magician who, it was

jokingly suggested, might make “the Bread-man” – Mayor Jackson – disappear.73

Wives,

girlfriends, and families were all encouraged to join in such activities and were accounted for

when calculating strike relief. While this familial atmosphere did little to reduce the financial and

emotional hardships of being on strike, it created a real sense of solidarity among the workers and

their partnering unions. This new sense of social solidarity beyond the political world of TLC

meetings demonstrated the new direction in which unions in the post-war era were moving.

72 Strike Bulletin number fifteen published by CUPE Local 5, 22 August 1950, CUPE Local 5 and 167

fonds, box 15, file 2, WRDARC; Strike Bulletin number fourteen published by CUPE Local 5, August

1950, box 15, file 2, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC. 73

Strike Bulletin 15 published by CUPE Local 5, 22 August 1950, box 15, file 2, CUPE Local 5 fonds,

WRDARC.

317

Echoed after the strike in picnics, field days, parades and carnivals, it was a stark change from the

sober tone of the city’s pre-war conservative craft unions. The craft union’s small get-togethers

were now transformed into mass happenings. Speeches took second place to entertainment. Fun

fairs, carnival rides, and hot dog roasts all were designed to draw in a younger generation and

their families. They formed an important part of the social calendar for workers in every industry

in the city. The new style of unionism also suggested a change in the ways in which the city’s

workers had begun to think about themselves as early as the Second World War. Their political

identity as workers had gained importance alongside their self-identity as dutiful Hamiltonians.

While they still cheered at Ivor Wynne for the Tiger Cats, when it came to improving their lives

and futures, they looked to their unions more than to the city government. This marked a

significant reimagining of municipal relations from the way that Humphrey Mitchell and the early

ILP had once seen themselves and their world.

As the union recognized, one problem with the strike was that it had a negative impact on

the very people it was trying to bring on side, namely the rest of the city of Hamilton, especially

its industrial workers. Unionists understood that piles of rotting garbage in August were not the

best public relations tool. However, the union was optimistic that as the garbage piled up citizens

would become more involved in its cause and recognize the struggle of the working man for what

it was, one against a civic government that had sought tyrannically to enforce divisions among

workers. Like the strikes of 1946, this one was framed as an issue for all workers, not just those

in the union. Oliver Hodges made this point plainly in one of his radio addresses to the city’s

workers: “Stand by and see this union destroyed by those whom you elected last year to head

your municipal government and you set the date for your own destruction.”74

When Hodges

spoke again to the city over CHML on 12 September 1950, as the strike entered its second month,

he echoed a similar refrain: “Hamiltonians who think of the strike and the struggle involved only

74 Transcript of Radio Speech by Oliver Hodges on behalf of CUPE Local 5 regarding strike, 8 September

1950, box 15, file 2, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC.

318

when they smell some rotting garbage are beginning to realize that there is something going on in

this city that deserves their interest and immediate attention.”75

Hodges’s anger at city council

and the Board of Control reflected the changed climate in these bodies, willing to wait out the

union no matter what the cost to their constituents. “The best and simplest way for Alderman

Baggs to get the regular city services restored to his constituents is to become more seriously

interested in ways and means to end the strike,” Hodges declared in one polemic analyzing the

views of various civic politicians. “The people in Ward 3 would undoubtedly appreciate a

realistic approach to the settlement of this strike by Alderman Baggs just as much as the Union

would.”76

Local 5 hoped the hypocrisy of elected officials causing inconvenience to the taxpayers

would form a more lasting narrative than the one city hall was crafting, which presented the

workers as heartless radicals striking to bring suffering to the city. It strongly believed in the

strike and in collective bargaining rights. It rightly expected that they could outlast the elected

officials who, come December, would face the citizens affected by the garbage strike at the ballot

box and be forced to answer for their perceived stubbornness.

Despite what could have been an electoral disaster and an episode in which the newly

elected Mayor Jackson lost the faith of his electorate, city council, the Board of Control, and the

Spectator continued to support him. Three weeks in to the disastrous strike, city council voted on

whether they felt the Mayor and Board of Control should continue working towards a contract

through conciliation.77

All of council voted in support of the motion except for north end

Alderman Donald Ellis.78

City councillors publicly proclaimed the Mayor’s first obligation was to

75 Transcript of Radio Speech by Oliver Hodges on behalf of CUPE Local 5 regarding strike, 12 September

1950, box 15, file 2, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC. 76

Ibid. 77

Kenneth Bryant Crockett, Alderman, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1950 Minutes of

Hamilton City Council, 1950 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1951), 6 September 1950. 78

Meeting of City of Hamilton, City Council, 1950, Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1950 (Hamilton,

Ontario: 1951), 30 May 1950. Ellis had been appointed to replace Alderman F.G. Hayward, who had died

in May of that year and ran on an apolitical platform so it is difficult to assess his political stance and why

he was the only one in opposition. However, he did represent a north end ward and so it is likely that his

vote demonstrated his sympathies with the more labour-aligned political leanings of that part of the city.

319

the taxpayers. The Spectator echoed these concerns as soon as the strike had started. Neither side

denied the rising cost of living problem, but how they presented it was spun to suit their own

needs. “There is a full public recognition of the heavy burden of a rising cost of living on those

who are on relatively fixed wages,” the Spectator’s editor wrote on the first day of the strike,

referring to both the strikers and to all working-class Hamiltonians, “It is not an easy job for city

government… Interference with it will more than ever prejudice proper negotiations to settle this

regrettable and serious work stoppage.”79

The Spectator increasingly represented the most

Conservative side of the city’s political spectrum. As in most other issues throughout Jackson’s

mayoralty, it supported the mayor`s protection of the taxpayers. This demonstrated a marked

turnaround from earlier positions the paper had taken. Citizens were no longer owed service

because self-sacrificing politicians realized their duties to the people; they were owed it because

they had paid for it. This increasingly capitalistic position on the role of civic governments would

come to embody strike negotiations. The city had no paternalistic duty to the workers it

employed. Instead it had a duty to its shareholders and stake owners, the taxpaying citizens of

Hamilton.

The impact of this strike on the public was immediate, obvious and sometimes even

tragic. The Spectator dredged up sad stories for its front page. On 17 August 1950, it told of the

first strike-time funeral at a Hamilton public cemetery. Mrs. R.J. McCabe had had the misfortune

of dying while the strike was on and thus was in peril of not receiving a proper burial.80

A party

of men, including her bereaved husband, members of the Lions Club and the husband’s business

associations, dug her a fine grave, seven feet deep, three feet wide, and eight feet long. Allegedly

the crowd of picketers stated that they had nothing against the action, since it did not involve

79 Hamilton Spectator, “A Civic Emergency,” 10 August 1950.

80 Hamilton Spectator, “Husband’s Friends Dig Grave for Wife,” 17 August 1950. The headline was in a

dark bold font, and the article was accompanied by a picture of men digging the grave, taking up almost a

quarter of the page.

320

“scab” grave diggers.81

The Spectator used this event to form a narrative that vilified striking

workers. The picture the paper presented of the heartless city workers standing by while a poor

man buried his wife did not paint a favourable picture of them, but did inadvertently point out the

reality of these workers’ importance. In addition to public health concerns, groundskeepers were

no longer working, so the cemeteries’ appearance rapidly declined as grass grew over graves,

wilting wreaths proliferated, and recent graves resembled piles of dirt. Letter writers implored the

Spectator to think of the “Christian decency and order” cemeteries were supposed to embody.82

“If our civic workers, in order to gain their own end, must resort to methods that desecrate

cemeteries, and hurt only the weak and less fortunate, it is too bad,” W.H. Daw exclaimed in his

letter in the fifth week of the strike. “I do not for one moment suggest that the demands of these

people are not just and good… I do know that every religious impulse that ever moved men’s

mind spurred them to respect for the dead; those who followed the gentler teaching of Jesus also

had an immense respect for the less fortunate.”83

Burials continued as normal and no bodies were

reported to be lying out in the open – yet somehow Local 5 had come to be painted as an almost

anti-Christian element, even though its members had not interfered with Mrs. McCabe’s burial.

Similarly, access to the civic dump became a contested question. This was largely

because every citizen produced garbage. In a summer with record heat, garbage rapidly became a

problem. The dump officially remained open to Hamiltonians willing to cross picket lines. Some

form of garbage collection was put in place by the mayor and city hall.84

Regular garbage

collection became the prerogative of the rich, as private junkmen exploited the desperation of the

city’s most wealthy citizens. The poor, elderly, rural, and apartment dwellers were not so

fortunate.85

Fairclough, who was called upon to serve as deputy mayor at points in the strike,

81 Ibid.

82 W.H. Daw, letter to the editor, “Pitiful Condition at Cemetery,” Hamilton Spectator, 11 September 1950.

83 W.H. Daw, “Pitiful Condition at Cemetery,” Hamilton Spectator, 11 September 1950.

84 Hamilton Spectator, “Picket Shaken Up in Fracas at Dump,” 15 August 1950.

85 W.H. Daw, “Pitiful Condition at Cemetery,” Hamilton Spectator, 11 September 1950.

321

described the tense situation as an escalating one, growing increasingly desperate in spite of

emergency measures.86

Cartons, boxes, and newspapers, declared a “public menace,” were

accumulating in the alleyways and backdoors of businesses, leading the council and fire marshal

to worry about what would happen in the event of a serious fire, especially for residents in

apartments above businesses.87

Private contractors did not cover these nuisance zones, and so

they remained fire hazards throughout the strike.88

Long lines held up by pickets at the dump all

too frequently resulted in short tempers, fighting, and frequent police calls.89

At the height of the

strike, a force of 35 officers worked to keep the entrances of the dump open and the garbage

flowing. However, these measures alone were not enough and it soon became painfully evident

that the city’s outdoor workers played a vital if unheralded role in keeping the city beautiful.

Polio was a real concern for the city’s population. Not a summer went by without some

tragic story fluttering about it across the pages of the paper. While Hamilton only saw nineteen

cases in 1950, they made for dramatic news stories. Children were involved.90

The Minister of

Health feared that with water leaks, a growing rat population, and the abandonment of insect

spraying, the scourge of polio would bring more suffering. He also worried about a spike in rates

of gastro-intestinal illness.91

These threats, as well as the inconvenience of taking one’s own

garbage to the dump or paying a private contractor to do so, made the strike a divisive one. Many

in the city felt they were being unjustly held hostage in the process, and blamed both city hall and

the union for moving so slowly. Unlike the months-long strikes in 1946, the impact of this one

86 Fairclough, Saturday’s Child, 68-70.

87 Hamilton Spectator, “Possible Break in Local Five Strike Situation,” 26 August 1950.

88 Hamilton Spectator, “Concern Seen Over Rat Menace,” 24 August 1950.

89 Hamilton Spectator, “Reinforced City Police Reopen Path Into East End Dump,” 11 September 1950.

90 Report on Public Health by the Hamilton Local Council of Women for 1950, 1951, F 798-7-3, Provincial

Council of Women fonds, AofO. 91

Hamilton Spectator, “Concern Seen Over Rat Menace As Garbage Piles Up,” 24 August 1950; Hamilton

Spectator, “Mayor Urges All to Keep City Clean,” 24 August 1950.

322

was immediate. Tempers flared. Confrontations occurred often at the dump, usually started by

angry citizens frustrated with finding the pickets there too.92

With anger and garbage mounting, Local 5 was still able to draw support from the city’s

organized labour movement. The UEW offered their support financially and in terms of

manpower on the picket line.93

Its circulars reminded their members of the hard-won solidarity of

1946, when the city’s workers had stood together. “Let us bear in mind that defeat for the civic

workers weakens all of labor and thus weakens the entire labor movement, including us. Victory,

of course, has the opposite effect.”94

The USWA also affirmed its support of the strike. “Your

civic employees have a moral right to what you already have… It will cost the average taxpayer

only 5[cents] per week to settle the demands of the men of Local 5. You are [also] invited to help

in the picket line,” it advised its members.95

The union also solicited and obtained financial and

personnel support from the Ontario Federation of Labour, the HDLC, and the USWA Local

3696.96

Both the workers in those industries and the outside civic workers saw themselves as part

of the same class of employees, firming up the Local 5’s argument that they were workers first,

and servants of the public second. Civic workers were not the proverbially despised bureaucrats –

they were workers.

While this support from organized labour indicated that the CUPE Local 5 members were

not alone in their struggle, it also indicated a new alignment away from the former relationship

between cities and citizens, workers and their employers, and governments and businesses.

Whereas previously workers had turned to their employers and the government for support in

92 Hamilton Spectator, “Picket Shaken Up in Fracas at Dump,” 15 August 1950.

93 Circular regarding supporting civic strike “Help Civic Workers,” 14 September 1950, box 248, file 2,

UEW Local 504/550 fonds, WRDARC. 94

Ibid. 95

USWA Local 1005 Newsletter regarding civic strike support, August 1950, box 6, file 13, USWA Local

1005 fonds, WRDARC. 96

Letter to the OFL Affiliated Locals from William Patterson, President, CUPE Local 5, Regarding Strike

Support, 30 August 1950, box 15, file 31, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC; Minutes of the Regular

Meeting the AFL-Affiliated HDLC, 21 July 1950, unboxed minute books, HDLC fonds, WRDARC;

Minutes of the USWA Local 3696 General Membership Meeting, 25 August 1950, box 1, minute book 1,

USWA Local 3696 fonds, WRDARC.

323

their struggles and improving their conditions, these relationships had been eroded by wartime

pressures, real or perceived inequities of the post-1945 world, and by government’s expanding

official role in collective bargaining. Workers on strike found their support from other workers

and drew on these networks to further the cause of all workers, not just those in their own

workplaces. Workers were described as turning against the city itself for their own aims.

Workers’ rights were now firmly not the same as those of the general public, and nor could they

be expected to achieve their aims through peaceful talks. Strikes, and the threat of strikes, were

now an important tool in turning against recalcitrant employers. As the CUPE Local 5 strike

demonstrated, not even public health concerns could stand in Labour’s way.

While the Spectator bellowed about a city knee deep in garbage where even the dead

could not find their resting place, in truth negotiations had been progressing well since the end of

August. In private, the Mayor began meeting with Local 5 heads and representatives from the

Board of Control and the District TLC in late August to attempt to reach some sort of deal.97

With

this renewed dialogue, A.C. Dennis, the Department of Labour conciliator for the case, returned

in September and both sides, now calmed down, agreed to cooperate with him and the

Department’s recommendations.98

With the conciliator’s aid, a memorandum of agreement was

settled on 15 September between the two parties that saw the union win most of its demands. The

40-hour work week was to be reached by 1953, cost-of-living bonuses were built into the

contract, pay raises were granted to some categories of workers, and the year-round work week

was achieved for most.99

The union members naturally voted in favour of the agreement. The

clean-up of the city began on 16 September and progressed over the course of a week until the

city was finally returned to its neat, orderly and repaired state. The strikers had achieved their

goal. Civic outside workers were to be valued at the same rates as their associates in private

97 Hamilton Spectator, “Possible Break in Local Five Strike Situations Seen,” 26 August 1950.

98 Hamilton Spectator, “Dennis to Make New Conciliation Attempt in Local 5 Strike,” 13 September 1950.

99 Memorandum of agreement between CUPE Five and the Corporation of the City of Hamilton, 15

September 1950, box 15, file 3, CUPE Local 5 fonds, WRDARC.

324

industry. They had also solidified the labour practices of collective bargaining seen in the 1946

strikes. The workers of the city had stuck together in the face of harsh public opposition and

pressure from the civic government itself. In this strike the public had been pitted against the

strikers and it had solidified the positions that had been forming in the city for the last two

decades. Workers’ rights were separate from civic rights. The strike demonstrated that workers

could not be expected to sacrifice themselves for the good of the taxpayer. This repositioning

coincided with the realignment of the city itself. Under the business mayor, things were different:

the Corporation of the City of Hamilton was in fact just that, a responsible corporation. While it

still provided services, these could not be provided at the expense of the taxpayers. Discussion

about welfare turned on consideration of utility, not on those of community values or social

justice.

After the strike, things returned mostly to normal but an air of uncertainty settled around

the mayor who had stood up to labour. How would he survive the glare of public opinion and the

stink of the strike? The most certain assurance that the Mayor had the support of the city would

not come during the strike itself but rather during re-election time in December. Jackson’s

election was far from certain. The strike had certainly proven divisive and made many people

unhappy, if only because the city smelled and there was garbage everywhere. It was widely

recognized that any labour candidate, in light of Jackson’s anti-labour stance, would stand a far

better chance of getting elected, simply on the basis of not being Jackson.100

And so the AFL- and

CCL-affiliated Labour Councils worked together to find a suitable one. They felt certain that

Jackson’s unpopularity with labour, combined with the recent frustrations about the strike, would

be enough to plow a Mayor they disliked out of office. Helen Anderson, now married and

running as Mrs. Helen Anderson Coulson, was already running as a Communist candidate and

100 Hamilton Spectator, “Seeks Labour Candidate to Contest Mayoralty,” 14 October 1950.

325

there were fears that without a more moderate standard-bearer, the labour vote would be lost.101

While she had been previously successful electorally, the joint committee worried that without an

“anti-Communist and anti-reactionary” candidate their cause would flounder. While Lawrence

was returning for another run at the Board of Control, no one was found to contest the mayoralty

of Jackson, whom Lawrence described as “the most anti-labour, most anti-public ownership, and

most anti-direct[-action mayor] in the City of Hamilton in the last 39 years.”102

However, there were some in the city who described Jackson as “the Best Mayor We

have had in years.”103

His low-taxation stance made him a favourite among fiscally conservative

city residents. His defence of the Christian Sabbath against the menace of commercial activities

or professional sports events appealed to older, traditional Hamiltonians. At the heart of how

people felt about Jackson was the question of whether the city was a business or a service. As the

editor of the Spectator asked his readers:

Do you want a vigorous, businesslike, non-partisan civic government or do you

want a return to the confused, ineffectual banter of pressure-group politics? It is

regrettable that ex-Mayor Sam Lawrence has come out of retirement… he

recalls one of the most frustrating and troubled period this city ever went

through… The public would like to forget [it]… and let its civic government get

ahead with matters that concern the daily lives of the people.104

Indeed, Lawrence’s mayoralty had seen a leftward shift that was evidently not to the tastes of the

city’s voice of conservatism. But what did the people think?

Perhaps the lack of a middle-ground candidate made the decision too easy for

Hamiltonians. Even in Wards Five, Six, Seven, and Eight, where Anderson Coulson had

traditionally found strong support, Jackson out-polled her by around 4,000 votes per ward,

defeating her across the city in a vote of 49,924 to 8,270, in the face of record high voting

101 Ibid.

102 Ibid.

103 Old-Timer, letter to the editor, “Best Mayor We Have Had in Years,” Hamilton Spectator, 5 December

1950. 104

Hamilton Spectator, “A First Challenge,” 24 November 1950.

326

numbers.105

Given the post-war Red-baiting campaigns that had echoed in the city, this result,

which meant that one in six voters had chosen a Communist candidate, even if one who deployed

moderate rhetoric, was remarkable. The Spectator conceded, optimistically, that while this result

certainly accounted for more votes than those from just CPC members alone, it had not been

enough to bring Anderson-Coulson to office.106

Jackson expressed his relief to the paper, stating:

“I cannot tell you just what it means to one’s faith, confidence and courage to know that the great

majority of the citizens are solidly behind one… This vote today is very encouraging and

strengthening to me… I think it is quite apparent that there has been an increased interest in the

last year and a quickening of civic spirit.”107

With the change a year later to two-year-terms,

Jackson would hold his mayoral seat for the next decade.108

Not only would he prevent further tax

increases, but by 1952, he was able to lower the rate to 45 mills.109

The city’s civic workers’ strike thus demonstrated two important changes in Hamilton’s

political culture as the decades of want were transformed into those of prosperity. Firstly, labour

had secured a spot in the public consciousness and achieved the legislative protections necessary

to ensure that workers had a means of achieving success in the future. No longer dependent on

the beneficence of their employers or governments, labour could count on the backing of a

significant portion of the public, even in the face of mountains of garbage. However, they also

signalled the transformation of the relationship of the municipal state with its citizens. No longer

predicated mainly according to the rules of liberalism, the civic landscape had become one

shaped by a more direct rule of capitalism. In this new regime, the “citizen” had become the

105 Hamilton Spectator, table “Votes for Mayor,” 7 December 1950. Anderson-Coulson’s strongest polling

base came from the city’s more working-class wards. In general, she had previously polled favourably in

these areas, appealing to the more radical arm of labour in these ridings more than more traditional ILP or

CCF candidates running in these wards in civic politics. While her polling numbers represent a significant

vote for a Communist candidate in this period, they also speak to the lack of popularity that radical labour

movements had with some in the city. 106

Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Jackson Coasts to Win Over Coulson,” 7 December 1950. 107

Ibid. 108

Toronto Star, “Lloyd D. Jackson, 85, ex-Hamilton mayor,” 12 September 1973. 109

Estimated budget for 1952, presented by Lloyd Jackson, Mayor, to the City of Hamilton, City Council,

1952 Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1952 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1953), 25 March 1952,

327

“stakeholder.” Jackson’s decade and a half of electoral success, despite his unpopularity among

the labouring classes who had traditionally formed an important part of the civic body, indicated

the significance of this change. The city had been transformed from a civic service, meant to aid

in bettering the community as a whole, to a business, meant to enrich its taxpayers and burden

them no further. The city had changed, and while it still continued to elect now-Progressive

Conservative candidates, their campaigns and actions in office spoke as much to the

transformation of these ideals as they did to the constancy of non-radicalism in the City Beautiful.

Service and the Community: The Changing Ideals of Dedication in Post-War Hamilton

One of Hamilton’s rising political stars in the post-war era was Ellen Fairclough.

Fairclough, like many of the city politicians, had been born and raised in the city and had

remained there to raise her young family. Like earlier female politicians in Hamilton, Fairclough

had risen through the ranks of service and community groups first, including service as President

of the City’s branch of the Zonta Club, Vice President of the IODE, and Dominion Secretary of

the UEL Association, among other roles.110

She had combined this with almost lifelong

involvement in Hamilton’s Conservative Party. While women had made steady but modest gains

in women’s inclusion in formal politics, Fairclough was the first woman to contest a federal seat

successfully in the region. Her political campaigning and actions in Parliament spoke to the new

direction of the city and to the new priorities of its middle-class and wealthy electors. By

campaigning, like women before her, on issues that appealed to women specifically, such of the

cost-of-living and access to schooling and services in new neighbourhoods, she was able to

bolster her support in the city’s wealthier west end and win the seat back for the Progressive

Conservatives.

110 Fairclough, Saturday’s Child, 60.

328

Henderson had first blazed the trail for women, and Fairclough followed her path by

appealing to the importance of a woman’s voice in politics. She was the candidate “personally

interested in your Welfare,” as her early 1949 campaign ads reminded voters.111

The pictures of

an always-smiling Fairclough painted the image of a caring woman ready to work for her

country, much as she had already worked for her city. She was the candidate “For Free Enterprise

without monopoly, for guidance without compulsion, for welfare without inference [and] for the

benefit of your destiny and that of your children under DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES.”112

Fairclough’s maternal feminism was focused on protecting children’s rights to democracy and

financial freedom, in addition to the earlier focuses on their health, education, and well-being. As

the only female candidate running, she used her gender to her advantage. In a radio-address given

by Progressive Conservative community leader David Robinson, he highlighted Fairclough’s

gender as one of the strengths that all Hamiltonians should consider when pondering their options

in the 1949 Federal election in Hamilton West. “I think it may be said with confidence,” he told

his CKOC listeners, “that the presence of a group of able and refined women in our national

parliament will exert a civilizing effect upon its conduct… it will give the government and the

people the opportunity of hearing a woman’s voice or perhaps more correctly the voice of women

in our parliament.”113

“The women of the riding, irrespective of party, would like to have a

feminine viewpoint,” Robinson proclaimed with explicit reference to debates on cost-of-living

issues in post-1945 Canada.114

Fairclough drew on her experience as a business person and a mother to emphasize how

well she understood the issues. She lost that election to experienced parliamentarian and war

111 Hamilton News, election ad for Ellen Fairclough, 17 June 1949.

112 Hamilton News, elections ad for Ellen Fairclough, 24 June 1949, emphasis in original.

113 Radio Address given by David Alkin Robinson in favour of Ellen Fairclough’s election, summer 1949,

David Alkin Robinson Fonds, box 2, file 6, WRDARC. 114

Ibid.

329

veteran Colin Gibson.115

However, Gibson was appointed to the Supreme Court in 1950, leaving

his seat vacant. In a field that did not include an incumbent and war hero, Fairclough was able to

come out on top.116

Fairclough carried the values she had previously promoted as an active

citizen, female service club member, and civic politician to the House of Commons. In fact, one

of her notable speeches in her first year in the House of Commons was a statement in defence of a

new tax on cosmetics.117

The “Progressive” part of the new party name reflected the fact that it

was a changed party that deliberately spoke more to social issues and it fit Hamilton’s first

woman MP to a tee.

Like other Conservative politicians before her, Fairclough firmly based her values in a

strong sense of heritage, one of Christian faith, political freedom, and Britishness that she dated

back to the supposed landing of John Cabot and his son Sebastian on the Mathew in 1497.118

This

link to heritage was restyled as a way of resisting dangerous influences and in guiding the youth

of the nation away from the perils of Communism, Fascism, and all other forms of extremism in

the new Cold War Canada. Speaking to a gathering of service club women in Toronto, Fairclough

described what this freedom meant to her:

In these anxious days, when wars and rumours of wars colour our everyday

existence, when we anxiously watch the deliberations of the nations in

conference at Lake Success and Flushing Meadow, when every word is

weighed for its actual and its potential significance, ours is the task of free

people everywhere, to keep our faith bright, and shining and to protect our

heritage against aggressors, for we may well be going into that dark hour just

before dawn… Wherever our pathways lie – in home, in business or

professions, in public life, it is up to us to sow the seeds of an unbreakable

morale… to guide its growth to the calm, deliberate courage of full maturity.

115 Hamilton Spectator, “Same Men Returned,” 28 June 1949.

116 Hamilton Spectator, “Ellen Fairclough Becomes Canada’s Only Woman MP,” 16 May 1950.

117 Hamilton News, “M.P. Ellen Centre of Powder-Puff Battle; Use of Cosmetics as Man-Bait Defended,”

23 July 1951. 118

Speech by Ellen Louks-Fairclough entitled “What Our Communities Need From Us,” given at the Five

Women’s International Service Club’s Dinner in Toronto, Ontario, 26 February 1951, file 12, Ellen

Fairclough Collection, HPL. She gave the speech in a briefer form at a meeting of the Montreal Zonta Club

on 25 November 1950. Untitled speech by Ellen Louks-Fairclough to the Montreal Zonta Club, 25

November 1950, file 12, Ellen Fairclough Collection, HPL.

330

Not the heroism of the moment, glorious though it is, but that courage born of

an indomitable faith.119

Much had changed since Henderson’s appeals to Hamiltonians in the 1930s. Although Fairclough

still spoke of hope, she now placed more emphasis on ideological warfare. Hers was maternal

feminism transformed to suit a new climate. It also reflected the changed importance of the

private family and the entrenchment of Cold War ideology. In her discourse, the family and

private life had supplanted the community and city as a priority in both the political rhetoric and

the lives of Hamiltonians.

The strikes, the Cold War, and the polarization of politics had transformed Hamilton by

the mid-1950s. No longer the City Beautiful, it was now transformed into the City Productive.

Even the City Hall was changing. The stunning gothic edifice that had echoed to the speeches of

politicians for decades was replaced by a new, squat, all-glass, modernist building completed in

1960. Jackson assured voters that the new building exemplified cost-efficiency and modernity.120

The city’s neo-classical masterpiece, its old Court House, also had to go, to make way for an

architecturally similar modern glass and marble edifice to serve as the region’s courthouse.121

While the old Loyalist family statue still sat within view of both City Hall and the Court House,

the Conservative Party values that it had referenced were transformed to fit the new social

climate. Heritage, loyalty and service were still evoked, but now meant something very different

to the cost-conscious politicians that paid them lip service.

119 Ibid.

120 Hamilton Spectator, “Mayor Denounces Long Term Plan for City Hall,” 13 January 1951; Lloyd

Douglas Jackson, Mayor, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1953 Minutes of Hamilton City

Council, 1953 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1954), 5 January 1953. 121

Hamilton Spectator, “Ald. MacDonald Feels More Space is Needed So Public Can Be Present,” 8

January 1952; Lloyd Douglas Jackson, Mayor, speaking to the City of Hamilton, City Council, 1952

Minutes of Hamilton City Council, 1952 (Hamilton, Ontario: 1953), 7 January 1953.

331

Conclusion

On 23 June 2011, the New Democratic Party led a monumental filibuster, stalling Bill C-

6 for 58 hours in the House of Commons. The bill, back-to-work legislation directed at Canada

Post postal workers who had been participating in rotating strikes since 3 June and as a result had

been subsequently locked-out by their employer, was seen by New Democratic Party members as

one step too far and too many against the rights of organized labour by the now-majority

Conservative Party of Canada.1

After many an argument had broken out, Hamilton-East Stoney Creek MP Wayne

Marston took his turn to speak. Having served in Parliament since 2006, he brought with him

over 25 years of experience in unions and labour organizing, making him one of the most

experienced members of the House to speak on the issue. After mentioning his history as a

labourer, labour organizer, and collective bargaining negotiator, and emphasizing the importance

of labour solidarity, Marston called on another aspect of his identity, one that established his

position as an expert on labour questions. Marston reminded the House that he was a

Hamiltonian. As such, in light of the ongoing lock-out of U.S. Steel workers at the former

Hamilton Stelco works and the city’s rich labour history, he was among the blessed few who

could truly see the issue for what it was. He told this story:

In Hamilton, workers and veterans fought side by side in the streets, even on the

waters of Hamilton harbour, for collective bargaining rights and the right to

form a union. These were the very same veterans who had fought the Axis

powers to a standstill. Then they had to come home and fight corporate Canada,

with the same view of protecting their rights and improving the lives of all

Canadians, as they had just done overseas. These brave souls were the same

people who lived by such creeds as ‘an injury to one is an injury to all.’ … It

was at the Hamilton and District Labour Council in the late 1970s and early

1980s, along with the member for Hamilton Centre, that I learned of the

struggle of the 1946 strikers in Hamilton and Windsor. I heard directly from

those old timers of their sense of shame and humiliation upon returning to

1 Bill C-6, An Act to Provide for the Resumption and Continuation of Postal Services, 1

st Session, 41

st

Parliament, 2011.

332

Canada from defending their country. They could not get decent-paying jobs,

nor the respect of employers, until they finally stood up to them in 1946. 2

He echoed a trope that had been used many times before. In a night filled with so much other

controversy, it was unsurprising that Marston’s statement drawing on his Hamilton pedigree

would go unquestioned.3 The idea that being from Hamilton made one an expert in labour,

because of course Hamilton itself IS labour, seemed embedded in the parliamentarians’

consciousness.

The strikes of 1946 constitute moments in history whose scope and importance, as this

dissertation suggests, extended beyond the workplaces involved. The events themselves and how

they came about is part of a larger, often overlooked narrative. Hamilton was not just the home to

uprisings that changed the face of collective bargaining in Canada. It was also deeply imbued

with a long liberal tradition. This entailed a firm belief in the importance of the free-standing

individual, white British political traditions and respectability, and the ideals of sacrifice and

service to one’s country. These values were not just upheld by expected groups, like the

Conservative Party of Canada, liberally-minded municipal politicians, businessmen, and Anglo-

centric social organizations. Rather, they were also expressed by a wider variety of people, many

of whom might have been expected to dissent from them. There people included craft unionists,

labour politicians, and even, as accounts of the strikes show, workers themselves. This

conservative liberalism, persisting in mutable forms through Depression, war, and unrest, spoke

eloquently to people well-removed from the privileged elite. That these ideals often could cross

what would seem to be class barriers complicates the two-class narrative of Hamilton’s history,

2 Canada, House of Commons Debates (23 June 2011), 62:00-62:05 (Wayne Marston, Hamilton-East

Stoney Creek). This trope of harkening back to the Hamilton labour movement and its heritage was also

used by Hamilton Mountain MP, Chris Charlton, though she more especially focused on the impact of the

U.S. Steel lock-out on the Hamilton Community, as did Hamilton Centre MP David Christopherson. 3 Canada, House of Commons Debates (23 June 2011), 62:10-62:15. The speeches historical content went

so unnoticed that it was described in the response by Conservative Party member Costas Menegakis as “yet

another regurgitation of the NDP speech that we have heard some 140 times over these last hours here in

the House… that NDP members feel obliged, given the news from their national convention that they are

not true to their union roots, to use… as an opportunity to prove to their base that they are true socialists.”

333

one focused on labour unrest and capitalist exploitation. The persistent presence of these values in

the speeches of politicians across these 25 years demonstrates that this was a political language

understood by voters and those politically active in the city, if also occasionally rejected by them.

Hamilton’s politicians repeatedly swore allegiance to the values of liberalism and a

steadfast adherence to the constitution, which included ideals such as honest and clean

electioneering, adherence to the British political tradition, faith in the Empire, reverence for the

free-standing individual as the organizer of his or her own success or failure, and above all,

whole-hearted devotion to a united public. The importance of these conservative liberal values

can be demonstrated by tracing how they were expressed both by the mainstream Conservative

Party and successful ILP politicians. Whether a politician was a success or a failure, remembered

or forgotten, significant or marginal was often a question answered by referring to his or her

relationship to these transcendent values. Such ideals were also used to frame critiques of

political parties that Hamiltonians were supposed to reject, such as the CCF. Portrayed as radical,

unsound, unBritish, and even at times unChristian, the CCF did not fit with the liberal political

values that the press and politicians often touted. Thus, when the ILP and CCF first allied with

each other and then split apart, they were told that part of this failure stemmed from paying too

much attention to the partisan, disloyal, and even irrational opinions of outside agitators. When

politicians such as Sam Lawrence broke this mould, they did so by appealing to achievements

that were widely recognized: long years of service, sane political positions, and willingness to

sacrifice for the good of others. Yet even Lawrence, as we have seen, would be censured if he

“went too far.”

These traditional liberal values did not neatly cross gender lines. Women in Hamilton

were expected to adhere to their traditional roles and interests as wives, mothers, and caregivers,

even as more and more of them worked outside the home. However, these roles were not

confined to the private sphere. Women used the same conservative liberal repertoire to push for

334

significant reforms to child-rearing, maternal health, and even birth control. So long as they

stayed within the boundaries of acceptable female respectability, they usually succeeded in and

were commended for their achievements. This public involvement in turn opened the doors for

some women’s political involvement, especially in municipal politics. However, once women

became candidates they were doubly bound by the traditional liberal language used to critique

male politicians and by gendered expectations of respectability and etiquette. As the contrasting

cases of Agnes Sharpe and Nora-Frances Henderson demonstrate, stepping outside these lines

could leave one out in the cold.

These political values were deeply tied to the strong perceived or actual British heritage

shared by many Hamiltonians. This British heritage was celebrated and reinforced through public

commemorations and celebrations, local histories, Anglo-centric organizations, and educational

activities. These values were tied to ideas of white respectability that were perceived to be

unattainable for many in the city’s growing, spatially distinct, ethnic enclaves. This exclusion was

especially applied to political radicals, such as the CPC and its members, who were not perceived

to adhere to the political values or to have the ethnic heritage touted by many of the city’s

politicians.

Wartime unrest, focused on both labour and social issues, unsettled this order

temporarily. As dissatisfaction grew with shortages in housing, food, gasoline, and consumer

goods in general, increased pressure was placed on workers to produce for the war effort with

seemingly little benefit to themselves. Enthusiasm for Empire was not enough to combat the

discontent felt by Hamilton’s workers. The growth of un- or semi-skilled industrial labour during

this period further strengthened the transition to industrial unions in the city, deepening the pre-

war divides separating craftsmen from labourers. While the war ended in 1945, many of these

problems persisted. Although wartime profits had soared, postwar wages remained low and

working conditions seemed especially precarious. Hamilton celebrated its centennial in 1946,

335

which many hoped would signify a return to its earlier years of progress, industrial strength, and

political order that centennial programming highlighted. However, growing discontent

overshadowed this agenda. In the months surrounding the celebrations, over 10,000 workers

across the city went on strike, with its leaders hoping to add a new, more critical narrative about

capitalist exploitation, unrest, and workers’ rights to the ‘memories’ of the centennial celebrating

city.

While the strikes divided and unsettled the city, they ultimately did not destabilize its

political culture, which was reinforced by the return of federal and provincial Conservative

politicians – now named Progressive Conservatives – to their former political position.4 This

move was accompanied by a post-war return to fiscally conservative practices and traditionally

liberal political ideals on the part of Hamilton’s City Council. These ideals and rhetoric were

most visible in the civic strike of 1950 when debates centred on the rights of the citizen taxpayer

versus those of the organized worker. While the definitions of some of the traditional liberal

values deployed by previous politicians had changed, these debates still heavily focused on

responsible governance, democratic traditions, service to the city, self-sacrifice, fiscal prudence,

and the rights of the taxpaying individual to protect his or her own liberty. Not everyone agreed

with this framework – indeed, the LPP recorded some surprising successes – but it guided most

voters and politicians.

Hamilton figures prominently, and rightly so, in early social histories of the formative

years of the Canadian labour movement. However, the conventional focus on narratives of class

uprisings and capitalist exploitation leaves much of the city’s population unaccounted for.

Working-class politics and political histories are more complicated than earlier social historians

4 Hamilton East remained held by its wartime incumbent, a Liberal, Thomas Hambly Ross until his death in

1956, when the seat was then won by Quinto Martini, his Progressive Conservative opponent and the first

Canadian of Italian origin elected to the House of Commons. Toronto Star, “Last Toronto Liberal Ousted in

Trinity in Tory Sweep of Metro Ridings,” 1 April 1958. His victory returned all of Hamilton’s federal and

provincial seats to the Progressive Conservatives.

336

anticipated. Workers were tied up in contemporary political discussions and were swayed by

ideas of race, gender, and respectability, not just those of class – a phenomenon that a growing

number of historians of liberalism are beginning to investigate.5 Through exploring the

persistence of traditional liberal values, British heritage, and the firm belief in democratic

parliamentary procedure in the city, we begin to uncover the intricate ways class and class

identities, gender, ethnicity, and ideas of heritage overlapped to create a voter base that frequently

returned Conservative Party politicians to office. Engaging with an interrogation of how these

values were deployed by politicians in varied economic, social, and political contexts unveils a

more complicated picture of how Hamilton’s politicians saw themselves and the city. Viewing

Hamilton through their eyes, we come closer to recognizing the City Beautiful within the Steel

City.

5 Eugenio F. Biagini. “Introduction: Citizenship, Liberty and Community,” in Citizenship and Community:

Liberals, Radicals and Collective Identities in the British Isles, 1865-1931, Eugenio F. Biagini, ed.

(Cambridge, United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press, 1996); Blee, Women of the Klan; Gary

Gerstle, Working-Class Americanism: the Politics of Labor in a Textile City, 1914-1960 (Princeton, New

Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2002); Johnston, The Radical Middle Class; Klatch, A Generation

Divided; McGirr, Suburban Warriors; McKenzie and Silver, Angels in Marble; Schneirov, Labor and

Urban Politics.

337

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356

Appendix A: Maps

Ontario Genealogical Society, “City of Hamilton Ward Boundaries, 1950-1959,” City of

Hamilton Ward Boundaries 1813-1985, HPL. Reproduced with permission from the Ontario

Genealogical Society, Hamilton Branch. Approximate Scale: 3 cm = 2.5 kms.

357

Ontario Genealogical Society, “City of Hamilton Ward Boundaries, 1931-1949,” City of

Hamilton Ward Boundaries, 1813-1985, HPL. Reproduced with permission from the Ontario

Genealogical Society, Hamilton Branch. Approximate Scale: 3 cm = 2.5 kms.

358

Ontario Genealogical Society, “City of Hamilton Ward Boundaries, 1920-1930,” City of

Hamilton Ward Boundaries, 1813-1985, HPL. Reproduced with permission from the Ontario

Genealogical Society, Hamilton Branch. Approximate Scale: 3 cm = 2.5 kms.

359

Appendix B: Tables

Table 1: Number of Males Employed in White-Collar Professions, including where available

earnings based on profession1

Year Number of

Male Workers

Employed in

White Collar

Professions

Percentage of Male

Workers Employed

in White Collar

Professions2 Over all

other Occupations

Average

Earnings of

those in these

profession

Average earnings

of all employees in

Hamilton, Ontario

1911 1969 6.7% N/A N/A

1921 3043 9.7% $1736.74 $1149.78

1931 3678 8.4% $2372.67 $1021.78

1941 7517 13.3% N/A N/A

1 Data derived from Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1911: Occupations of the People,

Vol. 6 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1915), Table 6; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of

Canada, 1921: Occupations, Vol. 4 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1927), Table 40; Dominion

Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Earnings of Wage-Earners, Dwellings, Households,

Families, Blind, and Deaf-Mutes, Vol. 5 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1934), Table 34; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1941: Gainfully Occupied by Occupations, Industries,

etc., Vol. 7 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1944), Table 7. 2 Includes managers and superintendents in Manufacturing industries; advertising agents, managers and

superintendents in the Trade industries; professional service workers and public administration workers in

the Service industry; Finance and Insurance; and managers and superintendents in unspecified industries.

Earnings in public administration were publicly controlled and significantly lower than in the private

industry. With these numbers excluded, average wages in these industries were almost double that of the

average worker, $2266.63 for 1921 and $2485.29 for 1931. 1941 figures calculated using the statistics

including those in active service.

360

Table 2: Ethnicity of Residents of Hamilton, 1921-19513

1921 1931 1941 1951

Total 114151 155547 166337 208321

British 95097 123684 129738 140745

Other European

Origins

17431 30135 35086 54485

Asiatic Origins 574 653 478 1485

Other 1049 1075 1035 11606

Percentage of

British Residents

in Hamilton

83.3% 79.5% 78% 67.6%

3 Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1921: Population Vol. 2 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of

Statistics, 1926), Table 40; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Population, Vol. 2

(Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1934), Table 34; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of

Canada, 1941: Population by Local Subdivisions, Vol. 2 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1944),

Table 34; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1951: Population, General Characteristics,

Vol.1 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1953), Table 35.

361

Table 3: Home Ownership for the largest fourteen Canadian cities in 1921, including Hamilton,

featuring population and national averages

Montreal Toronto Winnipeg Vancouver Hamilton Average

National

Home-

ownership

Population 1921 618506 521893 179087 117217 114151

Number of

households, 1921

135480 130301 42407 30258 28984

Owned, 1921 20096 61068 18045 10451 14595

Rentals, 1921 115384 29233 24362 19807 14389

Percent of

homeowners, 1921

14.80% 46.90% 42.60% 34.50% 50.40% 39.51%

Population 1931 818577 631207 218785 246593 155547

Number of

households, 1931

170811 149538 48294 60530 37217

Owned, 1931 25455 69463 22712 30884 17876

Rentals, 1931 145356 80075 25582 29646 19341

Percent of

homeowners, 1931

14.90% 46.50% 47% 51% 48% 40.31%

Population 1941 903007 667457 221969 275353 166337

Number of

households, 1941

198886 148140 48963 71116 39889

Owned, 1941 22942 62732 21504 35603 17570

Rentals, 1941 175944 85408 27459 35513 22319

Percent of

homeowners, 1941

11.50% 42.30% 43.90% 50.10% 44% 37.11%

Population 1951 1021520 675754 235710 344823 208321

Number of

households, 1951

334705 273200 95955 153975 68640

Owned, 1951 81570 193405 58770 105445 46655

Rentals, 1951 253135 79795 37185 48530 21985

Percent of

homeowners, 1951

24.40% 70.80% 62.50% 68.50% 68% 56.16%

Population 1961 1191062 672407 265429 384522 273991

Number of

households, 1961

549652 482490 128530 228596 105240

Owned, 1961 179083 323435 85831 159414 77367

Rentals, 1961 370569 157055 42699 69182 27873

Percent of

homeowners, 1961

32.60% 67% 66.80% 69.70% 73.50% 60.17%

362

Ottawa Quebec

City

Calgary London Edmonton Average

National

Home-

ownership

Population 1921 107843 95193 63305 60959 58821

Number of

households, 1921

25075 18786 15964 15685 14523

Owned, 1921 8304 5124 7277 8745 6922

Rentals, 1921 16771 13662 8687 6940 7601

Percent of

homeowners, 1921

33.10% 27.30% 45.60% 55.80% 47.70% 39.51%

Population 1931 126872 130594 83761 71148 79197

Number of

households, 1931

27658 23043 20371 17549 18868

Owned, 1931 9746 5829 10526 9726 10007

Rentals, 1931 17912 17214 9845 7823 8861

Percent of

homeowners, 1931

35.20% 25.30% 51.70% 55.40% 53% 40.31%

Population 1941 154951 150757 88904 78264 93817

Number of

households, 1941

32535 26894 21753 20222 23082

Owned, 1941 9578 5306 9705 9235 10685

Rentals, 1941 22957 21588 12048 10987 12397

Percent of

homeowners, 1941

29.40% 19.70% 44.60% 45.70% 46.30% 37.11%

Population 1951 202045 164016 129060 95343 159631

Number of

households, 1951

66265 54930 40235 32835 46395

Owned, 1951 29895 19910 24135 21170 28880

Rentals, 1951 36370 35020 16100 11665 17515

Percent of

homeowners, 1951

45.10% 36.20% 60% 64.50% 62.30% 56.16%

Population 1961 332899 171979 249642 169569 281027

Number of

households, 1961

107570 79140 78396 50494 89003

Owned, 1961 56569 33458 49613 33695 57916

Rentals, 1961 52001 45682 28773 16799 31087

Percent of

homeowners, 1961

52.60% 42.30% 63.30% 66.70% 65.10% 60.17%

363

Halifax St John Victoria Windsor Average

National

Homeownership

Population 1921 58372 47166 38727 38591

Number of households, 1921 12889 11403 10405 9612

Owned, 1921 4312 2826 4304 5258

Rentals, 1921 8577 8577 6101 4354

Percent of homeowners, 1921 33.50% 24.80% 41.40% 54.70% 39.51%

Population 1931 59275 47514 39082 63108

Number of households, 1931 12147 10890 10431 14900

Owned, 1931 4271 1560 4890 5951

Rentals, 1931 7876 8330 5541 8949

Percent of homeowners, 1931 35.20% 14.30% 46.90% 39.90% 40.31%

Population 1941 70488 51741 44068 105331

Number of households, 1941 13514 11862 11455 25230

Owned, 1941 4927 2681 5250 9379

Rentals, 1941 8587 9181 6205 15851

Percent of homeowners, 1941 36.50% 22.60% 45.80% 37.20% 37.11%

Population 1951 53389 50779 51331 120049

Number of households, 1951 29640 19735 31620 41595

Owned, 1951 16230 7480 22010 25605

Rentals, 1951 13410 12255 9610 15990

Percent of homeowners, 1951 54.80% 37.90% 69.60% 61.60% 56.16%

Population 1961 92511 53183 54941 114367

Number of households, 1961 42366 24143 47485 53315

Owned, 1961 23234 10682 33893 38620

Rentals, 1961 19132 13461 13592 14695

Percent of homeowners, 1961 54.80% 44.20% 71.40% 72.40% 60.17%4

4 Data derived from Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1921: Population, Vol. 1 (Ottawa:

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1924), table 17; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1921:

Population, Dwellings, Families, Conjugal Condition of Family Head, Children, Orphanhood, Wage

Earners, Vol. 3 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1927), table 12; Dominion Bureau of Statistics,

Census of Canada, 1931: Population By Areas, Vol. 2 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1934), table

22; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1931: Earnings of Wage-Earners, Dwellings,

Households, Families, Blind, and Deaf-Mutes, Vol. 5 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1934), table

62; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1941: Population by Local Subdivision, Vol. 2

(Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1944), table 17; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada,

1941: Housing, Vol. 9 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1949), table 16a; Dominion Bureau of

Statistics, Census of Canada, 1951: Population, Vol. 1 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1953), table

12; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1951: Housing and Families, Vol. 3 (Ottawa:

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1953), table 23; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1961:

Housing, Dwelling Characteristics by Type and Tenure, Vol. 2.2 (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics,

1963), table 77; Dominion Bureau of Statistics, Census of Canada, 1961: Population, Vol. 1.1 (Ottawa:

Dominion Bureau of Statistics, 1963), table 10.