Christmas Eve in Hamilton

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Was 2024 a good year? That’s a tough one to answer. It’s been challenging, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it was bad. It’s been full of ups-and-downs, but do the ups outweigh the downs? It’s been simultaneously frustrating and inspiring, somber and joyous, abounding with new experiences and calling out for the comforting embrace of the familiar. My assessment thus far is that it’s definitely been…a year, I suppose.

One event from my own life that I’m still trying to process is the burial of my paternal grandparents a short while ago. Both had been gone for some time; my grandfather passed away late last year and my grandmother has been gone since 2013. But, as is characteristic for my family, the interment process took a long, pensive while. There was contemplation without conversation and then everything was suddenly done all at once and in a frantic flurry.

They were summer people, like I am. To them, nothing beat sitting on the patio of their east mountain bungalow, soaking up the summer sun and relaxing with an ice cold rye and ginger, periodically getting up to poke in the garden and muse about how many more seasons the withered old apple tree that stood awkwardly in the centre of their yard had in it. From the comfort of their dated lawn loungers - complete with immaculate and lovingly maintained original cushions - they would pepper the small troupe of grandkids with questions about school before launching into stories about the past, from the old country to West Avenue to the east mountain.

But, as much as they loved the sun, nothing was more important to them than Christmas Eve. In the grand Bavarian tradition, Christmas Eve was a time to gather the family, have a big homecooked meal, open presents, and get ready for Midnight Mass. While the last point happened rarely, if ever, the rest of the festivities are permanently etched into my mind. The smell of a wood burning fire warming the downstairs rec room, the cabbage rolls and ham (even after I committed to vegetarianism at age 17, the smells still comforted me) and, most importantly, the Bavarian bread dumplings. In my memory, the Christmas Eves we spent together were some of my happiest, coziest, safest nights.

But what of other Christmas Eves in Hamilton? How have the people of this wonderful city of ours marked the occasion throughout the years? Have our traditions lingered or has there been noticeable change in how the night before Christmas is marked here at the head of Lake Ontario?

Let’s jump into the Spec archives and take a look back at a couple of Christmas Eves in Hamilton from long, long ago to see a snapshot of life in this city at different intervals on this night before Christmas.

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Monday, December 24, 1900

The first Christmas Eve of the 20th Century brought with it a range of emotions and experiences for the people of Hamilton.

For John Bews and his wife, Christmas Eve brought the birth of a son and a presumptive heir to the Bews Brothers tailoring company which, by the time it closed in the mid-1950’s, would be one of the oldest firms in the city.

For Mrs. Stiff of 258 Aberdeen Avenue, the day brought some mischief, as she found seven of her chickens birdnapped from her hennery when she went out to fetch her morning eggs. The Stiff Chicken Caper capped off a weekend of fascinating crimes in the city. Early on the Saturday, a patient from the city’s psychiatric facility briefly escaped before being located in the Durand. Later that day, a woman - amusingly named B. Overend - was hit by a horse-drawn delivery wagon at the corner of Hughson and King. And, on Sunday, Constable English of the Hamilton Police Service broke up an elicit craps game attended by 40 men out in the open on the corner of MacNab and Picton in the North End.

For the family and friends of Gertrude Harrington, the 24th was another day of worry, as she had still not been found after departing to see relatives in Toronto two weeks earlier. By Boxing Day, an embarrassed Ms. Harrington would tell the Spec that her correspondence had been delayed and that she was never missing, just enjoying time with relatives.

Beyond the range of personal dramas playing out across the city, December 24, 1900 seemed much like a usual day. The protracted lead-up to Christmas we know today would have been baffling to Hamiltonians in 1900. The post office was open, nomination meetings were held for the county councils around Hamilton in anticipation of the January 1 municipal elections, and the landlord of 120 East Avenue South was still looking for tenants (to pay the modest sum of $18 month in rent). The Spec’s editorial section barely acknowledged the coming holiday, instead presenting the board’s opinions on the benefits of hydroelectricity for local industries, the crisis in the Cape Colony, Canada’s relations with New Zealand, and speculation about Wilfrid Laurier’s waning popularity after the federal election two months prior.

The paper did set aside two paragraphs to mark Christmas, sending good tidings to their readers and subscribers: “May they have plenty of turkey and pudding for themselves, after having seen that their poor neighbours are not in need; may they be happy all day, and my nightmare not overtake them when asleep.”1

An interesting way to finish, but I get the sentiment.

🌟🎅🎄☃️❄️

Thursday, December 24, 1914

A short 14 years later, the world was a very different place. Laurier had been replaced with Borden, the city’s population had nearly doubled from 51,000 to over 100,000, and the world had been plunged into a bloody and destructive war.

The first Christmas Eve of the Great War saw the Spec’s pages filled with news from the front. A bombing raid over Dover, a German advance on the eastern front, success for the Allies in Belgium, and, still, the propagandistic suggestion that there were only another six months left in the conflict. The war would continue for another 1,418 days.

Most of the paper’s space was dedicated to updates about the war, but the the Spec did save some ink for an announcement that the Glanford Curling Club was finally open, that the Tigers were optimistic they would win against the Preston Dutchmen during their Christmas Day game, and that the East Hamilton Conservative Association had distributed 600 free tickets to their annual Christmas dinner and concert to local children in need.

Beyond this, the paper was focused on the upcoming municipal elections after a rather subdued round of nominations the day prior. Preparing eager voters to make an informed decision, the Spec recounted the events of the last city council meeting of the term, held that morning (early and late editions of the paper contained different information as things changed throughout the day). Council gracelessly punted most of the issues they had on the agenda into 1915, making them the problem of the next council. Of the issues they declined to act on were rent adjustments for shopkeepers in the buildings beside city hall, much-needed changes to the city’s cemetery by-laws to address drainage and soil quality, and the question of “municipal votes for women”. Hamilton’s women wouldn’t be getting a referendum on universal suffrage as a Christmas gift from the council of 1914.

The paper’s advertisers had leaned into the commercial opportunities presented by Christmas, offering a vast selection of bargains and late-night shopping opportunities. Robinson’s (18 James Street South) held a special “Forgotten Gift” sale, starting at 7:00 PM, which included half-price ornaments ($1), $0.15 for the latest in men’s neck wear, and $0.10 for next year’s calendars. Not to be outdone, Pratt’s (20 James Street North) offered the finest in lead toys for half off, discounts on “handsomely dressed dolls”, and only $0.50 for a fine…umm…let’s just say appropriative Indigenous “costume”. But the best Christmas Eve shopping deals in Hamilton were at The Right House (corner of King and Hughson), where rocking horses, normally $10, were priced to clear at just $3.98. Bright and modern velocipedes, stuffed tigers, and floating ship toys, all available at low, low prices! “Every piece of Xmas goods will leave the store before ten o’clock tonight, if zero prices can do it!” the full-page advertisement declared.

It was the Spec’s editorial, though, that was the most striking part of the paper’s Christmas Eve coverage in 1914. Baldly nationalistic, the editorial made the claim that the current war was a battle of Christian against heathen. “…there could be nothing more inimical than German militarism to the spirit of the Founder of the Christian Church,” they claimed, before emphatically asserting, “When Christ reigns in Germany, not [Odin] and Thor, there will be a new Germany which may heartily be welcomed into the circles of Christian nations.”2

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Tuesday, December 24, 1940

From the first war to the second. The city’s population kept growing, up to over 155,000 people from Westdale to Rosedale and even up atop the once picturesque mountain. And, for the second Christmas Eve of the Second World War, Hamiltonians would enjoy relatively balmy weather and a complete absence of snow. “It doesn’t seem right, but that’s actually what’s going to happen,” the Spec proclaimed.

Christmas Eve, 1940 capped off a very disappointing year in the war effort. The Axis had gained massive swaths of territory, toppling governments in Denmark, Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, France, and across colonial Africa. Britain, it seemed, would be next, leaving Canada and the rest of the unoccupied Commonwealth alone in the battle against fascism. The dire situation was carefully spun to present a picture of British resolve in the Spec, with the paper reporting “Britain’s royal family will have no Christmas tree this year, and Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose will get war savings certificates and post office savings banks for presents…Christmas in the royal family will be much like a normal quiet British Sunday.”

The front page of the paper screamed out, in heavy black type, that it seemed the “Enemy Is Planning Yuletide Invasion”. There were stories of the British battle against Italy in Egypt, the strength of the Greek resistance, and reports from the Polish government in exile, which was “proud to fight side by side for peace and justice with the [R.A.F.]”.

In the midst of all that, Hamiltonians tried their best to keep their spirits up that holiday season, indulging in manifold amusements. The men of the Royal Canadian Air Force’s training school in Mount Hope put on a festive drag show (the Spec was particularly taken with “a dancing quartet whose lack of grace was made up for by their valiant terpsichorean efforts.”). The Tivoli had a Christmas Eve double-feature: the noir mystery “Meet the Wildcat” (described as a “chiller-diller”) and the Ritz Brothers’/Andrews Sisters’ new hit “Argentine Nights”. Couples willing to part with $2.50 could attend the Royal Connaught’s Christmas Dance. For the more frugal (and athletic), a shiny new 50 cent piece would get you into the Alexandra Roller Rink to skate along to the live musical stylings of Morgan Thomas and His Orchestra.

The Spec’s Christmas Eve editorial struck a different tone than their piece in 1914. While it took aim at Hitler’s brutality, violence, and hatred, the editorial message was mainly an overtly Christian appeal. “Nothing else in all the long scroll of human events has meant to much for mankind as the birth of Christ in a manger of Bethlehem on that Holy Night nearly twenty centuries ago…His word is the truth and the life,” the paper proselytized.

But, for as much as they maintained a spirit of stoic British nationalism and kept up their unapologetic Christian missionary efforts, the Spec also took time to make a little joke at der Führer’s expense: “Germany reports an acute shortage of tripe,” they wrote in the “Current Topics” section, “Hitler has certainly crammed a lot of it down the throats of the German people during the last year or two.”

As for their editorial cartoon, the paper avoided Bible messages or lamentations about the war and, instead, focused on a noted problem on the home front. A ghostly figure towers above a car-filled street, holding a long scroll that reads “December auto accidents”. The caption is simple: “One Christmas list that needs to be cut down.”3

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Saturday, December 24, 1966

Bikinis! Divorce! Liquor! Disasters!

Christmas Eve, 1966 had it all. Around 275,000 Hamiltonians were enjoying another holiday season during the city’s mid-century Golden Age. It was chilly - around -4° - and the city was treated to a smattering of flurries.

But as cold as it was outside, the pages of the Spec were chalk full of hot and juicy stories. Amid reports about the ongoing war in Vietnam, there was a desperate appeal from Chief Leonard Lawrence of the HPS for more park police, warning that, without reinforcements and better communication between the city’s distinct forces (there were, at the time, distinct park, railway, and even industrial police) “a robbery could occur right outside a park or a murder somewhere inside [a] park.”

Beyond the chief’s speculation about murder-plagued parks, the HPS was dealing with the fallout from the previous day. On Hamilton’s roads, there were 72 accidents in one day, resulting in 23 injuries (including a broken leg for a 15 year-old cyclist who was struck by a motorist at Barton and Kenilworth) and 61 instances of significant property damage. Their colleagues in the Fire Department had an exciting evening after one of Mrs. Violet Luczko’s lodgers fell asleep with a lit cigarette in his hand, nearly burning down her home on Birch Ave.

For those not fleeing from burning buildings or tussling with the city’s traffic, a sunny Christmas vacation might have been more appealing. The Spec reported on the hundreds of Hamiltonians opting to spend Christmas in Florida - with many driving using directions provided by the Hamilton Automobile Club or a lucky few spending $134 (just over $1,230 in today’s currency) for a round-trip Air Canada flight from YYZ to Miami. “Snow at Christmas might be romantic, but to many, the sand and sun of Florida are more inviting,” the paper mused.

And, if that didn’t go well, there was always divorce. Debate around Canada’s divorce laws (it would be two more years before the government of Lester Pearson would update the country’s divorce regulations) had been heating up and Wentworth’s Liberal MP, John Morrison, wanted to survey his constituents on the matter. Why he released the results of his poll on Christmas Eve remains a mystery, but 86% of his constituents seemed to favour reforms to make it easier to split up.

The Spec, for their part, also split up…their Christmas Eve editorial for 1966, that is. It opened with two Bible verses - Isaiah 9:6-7 and Luke 2:8-14 - beside da Vinci’s Virgin and Child in place of an editorial cartoon. But, below that religious reprint was an appeal to the civic pride of Hamiltonians. Making no effort to dumb down their piece, the paper’s editorial board implored the people of Hamilton take heed of Hamilton By-law 9329, section 7. That was the section of the city’s by-laws that required residents to shovel their sidewalks after a snowstorm. They encouraged Hamiltonians to do their part “so that old folk and young alike needn’t risk broken leg or hip every time they set forth from their dwellings. Christmas spirit or not, the people of Hamilton are going to have to become more diligent in this regard, and it is up to the civic government to give them a good hard push.”4

And the sidewalks of Hamilton would always be cleared in a timely manner from that point on!

🌟🎅🎄☃️❄️

Monday, December 24, 1990

My first Christmas Eve was, by all accounts, a pretty miserable one for many in the city. The start of the ‘90’s marked the beginning of a tough time for Hamilton. The recession that began in spring of 1990 was deepening and the city’s industrial and economic base continued to erode. A reprinted column in the paper’s editorial section recounted the results of polls that showed Canadians saw the country as less unified, well-off, and optimistic than when Brian Mulroney first set up shop in 24 Sussex Drive.

The general sentiment was summed up by William Thomas in his page 7 column, which opened with the lines “I HATE Christmas. I hate the rabid commercialism and its blatant desecration of Christian values.”

Turning the page, Spec readers would be greeted by a massive ad for an electronics outlet on Queenston Road, offering the latest cassette players for $99, brand new Hi-Fi Stereo VCRs for $488, and beeperless remote answering machines for only $49. The future…

The paper’s advertisements encouraged shoppers to head in and get some deals before the introduction of the new and controversial Goods and Services Tax on January 1, 1991. And, in provincial politics news, the people of Ontario had already soured on the NDP government at Queen’s Park, with OPSEU negotiators saying the party seemed to be harder on labour than any of their predecessors and a group of Stoney Creek residents organizing a committee called “Save Hamilton-Wentworth” that aimed to push the province to build the Red Hill Valley Expressway, which they wanted to help, in their words, alleviate congestion on local roads. To make their case clear, they erected a sign at the corner of Mud Street and Mount Albion Road depicting Premier Bob Rae as The Grinch. Original.

Despite all this, the front page of the Spec proclaimed that those dreaming of a white Christmas would get their wish, even though the daytime high over the weekend was a spring-like +14°.

There were glimmers of hope amidst the dour clouds that hung over the city. The paper carried stories about Vince Furler, the super of Camelot Towers on Main West, who decorated the lobby of the building with recycled ornaments, set up a mailbox for children to send letters to the North Pole, and dressed up as Santa for the building’s Christmas party. Or there was the Good Shepherd dinner for 750 residents in the cafeteria of the Cathedral Girl’s School, where those taking part were served personally by Bishop Anthony Tonnos. Or there was the story of the Annabusi family who settled in Hamilton after fleeing the invasion of Kuwait, enjoying the traditions of their new home.5

Another Christmas Eve, another mixed bag of sentiments for the people of Hamilton.

🌟🎅🎄☃️❄️

Friday, December 24, 1999

From the first Christmas Eve of the 20th Century to the last. The city’s population had increased tenfold and we were on the path to amalgamation. And, in a few day’s time, the clock would roll over for Y2K.

The front page of the Spec featured a near-full page drawing from Wesley Bates, depicting a soft winter scene, complete with snowman, wreaths, and a family gathered around a dinner table below a banner that read “peace & joy”. Below the masthead came a feature on Canada’s peacekeeping force in Kosovo. And, along the bottom, an ad from Park’s Furniture that ominously read, in bold type, “THE END!” A study in contrasts.

Reporter Mike Hanley treated readers to a feature on Joe and Joyce Blenker, who had played Mr. and Mrs. Claus for a quarter century in Hamilton. A North Ender and retired mechanic, Blenker recounted how things were very different in 1999 compared to when he started. “A lot has changed during his years behind the beard. And, in this age of broken families, he’s learned from tough lessons in diplomacy,” Hanley wrote, before launching into some very revealing and, at times, inappropriate stories from Blenker’s time as a full-time Santa (he worked summers at Santa’s Village in Bracebridge). Filed under “Special Report”, the story played with the marital strife between the couple (“‘Still together and still fighting’, [Joyce] says, with a laugh. ‘It’s cheaper than a divorce,’ Joe adds.”) and credits Blenker with avoiding the Furby craze of ‘98 (“He was steering people away from the $40 toy that people were hoarding and selling for up to $500.”).

But much of the Spec’s coverage on that Christmas Eve was perfunctory. There were stories about the new ward boundaries that would be in place for the 2000 municipal election for the first council of the New City of Hamilton. There was a piece about charges against Pat Musitano being withdrawn and reports about the settling of disputes between the federal government and the port authority.

Red Green’s column (yes, that Red Green) waxed poetic about ‘back in his day’ and opened with the lines “When I was growing up, we didn’t have Best Before stickers on anything. If the milk smelled OK, you drank it.” Andrew Dreschel’s column took a different approach; instead of providing Hamiltonians with a look inside the mysterious building that is city hall, he reflected on two special Christmases for him and his family.

Ominously, on page A14, was a story about how strange it was that 1999 was the “second warmest on record”. Speaking with Environment Canada climatologists, the paper was able to capture this amazing quote from a puzzled federal environment worker: “What the cause is, well, we’ll leave that to other people to determine. But it does seem to be warming up, at least in our part of the world.”

The overtly religious aspects of the paper’s coverage had toned down considerably, reflecting the diversity of our community and the disinterest on the part of regular Hamiltonians to be delivered a sermon with their daily news. A small picture of Giotto’s Adoration of the Magi is contrasted on the following page with a story about an adult film star caught up in an insider trading scheme and the ambitions of the charismatic new president of Venezuela named Hugo Chavez.6

One week later, crowds of people would gather at city hall to celebrate the coming of the new millennium. I remember taking part in a “kids” new years (held slightly earlier than midnight) in the city hall forecourt with Mayor Bob Morrow enthusiastically encouraging us all to count down with him and welcome in the year 2000. Within a year, he would be out of a job. Today, the forecourt is named after him.

That space, like the Christmas Eves of years past and, indeed, of the city itself, is a study in contrasts. A mixed bag of up and down. Simultaneously frustrating and inspiring, somber and joyous, abounding with new experiences and calling out for the comforting embrace of the familiar.

From me to everyone in this amazing city, have a wonderful holiday. May you be happy all day, and may nightmare not overtake us, awake or asleep.