New Year's Day - 1890
“Who can imagine a more
dreary day than that which marked the opening of the year 1890?”
“How the Day Was Spent : Rain Prevented Much Fun, But
Society Whirled Just the Same”
Hamilton Herald January 2, 1890
With that rhetorical question asking how much more bleak a
start to a new year, in terms of weather conditions, the reporter for the
Hamilton Herald described in detail what a desolate and disappointing season,
New Year's Day as well as the Christmas holidays generally had been in Hamilton:
“At this season of the year, it is customary for Canadians
to expect good skating on the bays, rivers, creeks and ponds; to have the roads
covered with a canopy of snow, upon which sleighs speed merrily behind fast
horses. Altogether the season is one of jollification and enjoyment. This
season has brought a complete change. There have been no sleighing parties, no
coasting, no tobogganing, snowshoeing or other outdoor amusements.”
The reason for such a lack of the usual winter activities
in December and the start of the new year was a prolonged spell of mild, wet
weather with only occasional cold, clear, dry days.
The Herald reporter then described the conditions in
Hamilton on January 1, 1890:
“Yesterday was no exception to the general run of this
winter. Rain fell incessantly, and the sidewalks were a sea of water, while
rivulets coursed down the streets. Instead of being bright and gay, the city
was extremely dull and quiet.”
Instead of the usual hectic and widespread rounds of New
Year's Day visitations, Hamilton streets
were mostly deserted throughout the day:
“A very general sense of quietness seemed to prevail. The
hotels and saloons profited by the rain, for they transacted a land-office
business. Those who ventured out were soaked to the skin, and those who
remained within doors improved their internal economy.”
Although many visitations were called off because of the
inclement weather, some households in the wealthier districts of the city did
open their homes to visitors:
“Almost all the members of fashionable society received,
and furnished cake and wine to those who called. One thing was noticeable this
year, and that is the ladies did not offer the men wine. On every sideboard was
wine, and callers were asked to help themselves.”
The downtown hotels did exceptional business providing
libation for those unwilling to face the outdoor elements:
“Around the town, the boys kept celebrating until far into
this morning. At the Royal, it is said, that 318 gin fizzes alone were mixed
for thirsty customers.”
After darkness descended on the first of January 1, 1890,
Hamiltonians did have an event to both brighten their streets and their spirits
as the Hamilton Electric Light Company set off
what was described by the Herald as an event which “dazzled the moon
into insignificance, and made that dissolute old luminary hide her head for
very shame”:
“(the company officials) started the machinery that was to
run the 150 new arc lights and opened the new circuits, letting loose the
chained lightning from the dynamos onto the wires and starting new glimmers in
all parts of the city.”
The
Herald reporter noted that it was not a particularly dark night:
“But the new lights made themselves very useful to
pedestrians on many of the back streets where crossings are very much
“appropriation systematized” and where on the unpaved roads, the little
rivulets chased themselves downward with a gentle murmur to the nearest sewer
trap.”
The reporter contrasted the light provided by electricity
with that with which Hamiltonians had so long been used to where the Gas
Company had manipulated kerosene lamps in the past:
“The young man who used to sneak behind the shadow of a
shade tree and whisper love's messages and distribute love's tokens in the ear
and on the cheek of his best girl, in many cases will find that the blessed
days of the shade tree trysting place are gone, and that he will have to hunt
for a spot where there is more “gleaming” and shadow.”
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