Each year, members of the Paris Museum & Historical Society are encouraged to attend our Annual General Meeting. It’s a perfect opportunity to catch up with what’s going on at the Paris Museum. It’s also a great time to give us your feedback about the past year and let us know what you would like to see happen in the coming year. All members in good standing have a vote, and memberships can be renewed at or before the AGM.
Join us as we prepare for an exciting 2019 together!
Sunday, February 24, 2019
2:00 p.m. – 4:00 p.m.
The Paris Museum & Historical Society
Syl Apps Community Centre,
51 William Street
It’s rainy and grey outside my window today. The snow has been and gone, but I hope that it’s coming back. It just doesn’t seem festive if there’s no snow glistening rooftops during the yuletide.
However you feel about the weather during the festive season and however you chose to celebrate, I hope that you have a chance to experience peace with those you love and who love you. The board of the Paris Museum and Historical Society want to wish all of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. May the beauty of the season find its way into your heart and give purpose to all that you do.
This has been the usual busy year for us at PMHS. When I try to think about all the projects that we’ve worked on in the last 12 months, my mind is a jumble of tasks big and small. Some with an end in sight, and some that can never, by their nature, be finished.
Our devoted volunteers have organized, catalogued, researched, created, explained, fund-raised, donated, welcomed, tidied, fixed, and discovered. And they have done these things and many more, over and over again, with heart, humour and humanity. Of course, no human endeavour is without conflict but somehow or other we manage to embrace the problems, wind our way through the issues, and get on with the job. I am so proud of us for this. No organization could continue for as long as we have (since 1972) without doing most things right (or at least well enough).
One of our biggest challenges looming on the horizon is that we may have to relocate perhaps sooner than we thought. As most of you may know by now, the County of Brant Library system has chosen the Syl Apps Community Centre site for their new main branch. As far as I know, the County has not made any decisions at this time and no timelines have been established for doing so. But the possibility that they may be looking at the redevelopment of the building that we call home has increased. And so the board is beginning to grapple with the task of trying to establish a new future home for the organization. This will be a very large and complex job, and that’s not even considering the execution of a major move.
As daunting as this is, it also presents us with the perfect opportunity to find a permanent home for PMHS. Communities need museums. They need archives. And they need historical societies. And our community needs a lasting home for these things to be secure.
The County’s heritage organizations are the keepers and nurturers of our communities’ collective memory. We can tell you about and share pictures of the people who lived, worked and played here. We can show you how your community has changed over time. We can also help you see what has endured and is enduring here.
In this fast paced world, it is easy to forget the past, and through its neglect, lose its lessons. Many of you may know the lyric to the song Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell (my age is showing here). It goes, “they paved paradise to put up a parking lot”. Well, there’s little PMHS can do about new parking lots, and many would say that more are needed. But we can tell you the stories that live beneath the parking lot.
With the challenge of finding a new home coming towards us, now, more than ever, PMHS needs you. Nothing is accomplished without the passion of volunteers who give so generously of their time and money so that Paris’s heritage may be preserved and understood by future generations.
We look forward to seeing you at our Annual General Meeting in February.
Paris Museum and Historical Society
In the dying days of the First World War a second cataclysm struck: the Spanish flu. The 1918 influenza pandemic sapped armies, spread panic throughout the civilian population and racked up a death toll of approximately 100 million.
A century later, it remains one of the deadliest disease outbreaks on record.
In August of 1918, a virulent strain of the virus crossed the Atlantic and started spreading across Canada. It hit Paris on Sept. 27, according to the Star-Transcript. Large numbers of townsfolk experienced chills, aches and pain in the back and limbs, a severe sore throat, fits of sneezing, a flushed face and temperatures between 101 and 104 degrees.
“The passing of Louise Marie Snell came as a shock to many who were not aware of her severe illness,” the newspaper reported. “The entire family had been down with the influenza but were convalescing nicely. Mrs. Snell, however, took a relapse on Thursday and pneumonia developed. She passed peacefully away at the age of 32.”
That was often the way it happened. An influenza attack typically lasted from two to five days. It left victims so miserable they scarcely cared whether they lived or died. If they pulled through, they remained weak, tired and susceptible to complications for weeks. Many came down with pneumonia, acute bronchitis and severe asthma. It was these opportunistic illnesses — not the flu itself — that took their lives.
As reports of disease multiplied, panic set in, driving people to quacks with all manner of contraptions and cures.
On Oct. 16, Paris town council ordered the closing of schools, churches, dance halls, moving picture shows, pool rooms and concert halls, in an effort to halt the spread of the outbreak. A week later, it authorized a 30-bed emergency hospital in the armoury, staffed by volunteer nurses and orderlies.
One of the saddest stories of that time was the death of Dr. Alpheus Lovett, a well-liked physician who worked tirelessly to save lives during the outbreak. On Oct. 18, he succumbed.
He was 45 years old with a wife and four young children. According to the Star-Transcript: “Day and night during the whole illness citizens were constantly inquiring about the doctor’s condition. It was felt by everyone that a life so energetic and useful, so devoted to the community and so needed at a time like this must recover. But a gloom came over the community when the news of his death was known.”
By November, the epidemic had begun to taper off. On Armistice Day, relieved Parisians ventured out of their homes at 11 am to celebrate the end of the World War and the abatement of the disease. In the evening, there was dancing on the street, followed by a torchlight procession and fireworks.
Forty-one townspeople died in the pandemic, 10 of them young children. Approximately 1500 Parisians were infected. The province-wide death toll was 8,705.
What makes this relevant today — besides the fact that 2018 is the centenary of the pandemic — is how few lessons we have learned.
Today we have antibiotics that would have cut the death toll in 1918. But two-thirds of us don’t get a flu shot.
No one can predict when a strain of the flu as lethal and highly contagious as the 1918 variant on the H1N1 virus will return. But instead of preparing, global leaders are impeding our chances of finding an effective remedy by erecting trade barriers and slapping tariffs on a growing list of items. Caught in the escalating trade war between the U.S. and China is the latest Chinese flu vaccine research.
The precautions our medical authorities prescribe are much the same as those recommended by their counterparts a century ago. Cover your mouth and nose when you cough or sneeze; wash your hands regularly; stay home from work and school if you have a fever or flu symptoms. Yet many of us still don’t. We’re too busy, too preoccupied with other priorities, too willing to take our chances.
May we be luckier than our forebears.
by Carol Goar
Sources: At the Forks of the Grand, Volume II by D.A Smith, PMHS files, Toronto Star, Globe and Mail, TVO, Statistics Canada
Bells peeled and sirens pierced the air at dawn on Nov. 11, 1918. Parisians rushed out of their homes cheering, shouting and waving torches. “The war to end all wars” was finally over.
Neighbours hugged each other with joy and relief. It was a noisy, happy chaotic celebration.
The 100th anniversary of the Armistice that ended WWI was more subdued.
Close to a thousand citizens gathered at the Paris Cenotaph to honour those killed in war.
They acknowledged the horrendous cost of war: lives cut short, families shattered, communities stripped of their young talent. They imagined the massacres at Passchendaele, Vimy Ridge and Ypres. They renewed their pledge never to forget the sacrifice of a generation that fought so bravely.
Ninety-four soldiers and one nursing sister from Paris were killed between 1914 and 1918 or succumbed to their injuries in the months afterward. For a town of just 4,200, it was a devastating blow.
This year’s Remembrance Day ceremony held special significance — partly because it marked the centenary of the Armistice that ended WWI; but also because two new stones had been erected at the cenotaph correctly identifying every individual lost in WWI and WWII.
These pristine stones, a year and a half in the making, had been dedicated just two weeks earlier. They stood like sentinels against the grey sky as the crowd gathered to mark Remembrance Day. Over the course of the morning, their appearance was softened by dozens of wreaths; laid by descendants of the fallen, schoolchildren, police officers, firefighters, politicians, Girl Guides, Boy Scouts, and representatives of local churches, service clubs and charitable organizations.
Marie Williamson, accompanied by Carol Goar, laid a wreath on behalf of the Paris Museum and Historical Society.
“They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old,” said Reverend Canon Mario Hryniewicz at the ceremony. “Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.”
The crowd repeated the familiar words: “We will remember them.”
The Ayr-Paris Band played hymns of remembrance. The Paris-Port Dover Pipe Band added the skirl of bagpipes.
As a lasting reminder, members of Branch 29 of the Royal Canadian Legion gave everyone a bookmark inscribed with John McCrae’s poignant Word War I poem, In Flanders Fields.
After the benediction, families walked home together or warmed up in local restaurants and coffee shops. A few lingered to get a close look at the monument with its two new stones.
Similar ceremonies were held across the country, uniting Canadians in a moment of gratitude and remembrance.
The Paris Museum presented a slideshow of portraits of those paid the ultimate price. The pictures are part of its Fred Bemrose collection. Bemrose, a founder and early curator of the museum, spent years diligently collecting photos of everyone who served.
At 5 pm, church bells tolled across Paris in a final tribute to the soldiers, sailors, nurses, airmen who made the supreme sacrifice.
An eager group of 12 walkers came out for the Paris Museum’s final regular walking tour of the year on Sept. 29. The brisk autumn air seemed to increase their enthusiasm.
This resurgence of interest was welcomed by tour leader Wayne Wilkinson and assistant Marie Williamson after a disappointing summer. Low turnout forced the cancellation of Wayne’s August walking tour. A June nature hike, led by Garth Pottruff, was cancelled because of inclement weather.
This time, the participants — from Toronto, Brantford and Paris — had lots of questions and a few contributions of their own. When Wayne reached 16 Broadway Street West, the site of one of the town’s finest cobblestone homes, he admitted he’d always been stumped by the symbols above the door. A young woman on the tour was able to unlock the mystery. Recognizing the insignia, she suggested they represented “health” and “prosperity”.
For Wayne and Marie personally, the tour was a tribute to the late Doug Hazlewood; Wayne’s frequent tour assistant. They considered cancelling the Saturday tour out of respect for their friend and fellow volunteer, but decided to go ahead, convinced that is what Doug would have would have wanted.
As mourners paid their respects to Doug at the William Kipp Funeral Home, Wayne remembered his walking tour buddy in a happier place.
The husbands grew up in Paris. The wives love the town for its charm, its pace of life and the secrets it has revealed about the men they married.
Each year five families, now widely scattered, return to Paris for a reunion. One of their mandatory stops is the Paris Museum & Historical Society for a trip down memory lane. The men pore over photos and information about their family homes; the landmarks of their youth; long-lost schoolmates and local history. The women tour the exhibits, visit the gift shop and eventually drift back to the research room to join their husbands.
This year, they kept four volunteers — Dale Robb, Chris Galloway, Sharon Murphy and Carol Goar — busy when they dropped in on Thursday, Sept. 20 and stayed for an hour and a half.
This year’s trip had special significance. John Fielding, a retired history professor, brought along his just-published book, Paris Daze. Like his previous six textbooks, it was designed to make history engaging. But unlike the others, it was highly personal. His subtitle made that clear: Adventures and Misadventures Growing Up in the Prettiest Town in Canada. In addition, his wife Dianne painted the water colours that adorn the front and back covers.
John grew up on Banfield Street, graduated from Paris District High School and went on to University of Western Ontario where he earned an honours degree in history. For the next 37 years, he taught history, first at the secondary school level, then at university. Now he is a happily retired grandfather.
The Fieldings drove from Kingston for the reunion. Art and Hazel Binch came from Ottawa; Jeremy and Barb Hamilton-Wright from Northville, Michigan; and Gordon and Carolyn Smiley from London, Ont.
As they reluctantly departed — leaving eight copies of Paris Daze to sell in the gift shop — they promised to return next year, with full-sized prints of Dianne Fielding’s water colours of Paris.
Written by Carol Goar with photos by Sharon Murphy
For four days the crew and passengers of the Apollo clung to their listing vessel. Caught in a fierce storm off the coast of Newfoundland, the barque hung at a crazy angle in the frigid water, all four masts sheared off by the high wind. Crewmen and passengers worked the pumps in two-hour shifts to keep the ship afloat.
One of those passengers was George Low Scott, a druggist from Dundee Scotland making his way to North America to build a new life. Scott lived to tell the tale and establish a successful pharmacy — carrying everything from medications to Wedgewood china — on Grand River Street North in Paris.
“It’s a story that has it all — drama, terror, life and death,” said Bob Hasler, a lifetime member of the Paris Museum and Historical Society, explaining why he chose The Wreck of the Apollo for his contribution to a local history roadshow organized by the County of Brant Public Library. The first round of storytelling takes places at the Paris branch of the library on Sept. 26 at 7pm.
It would be an understatement to say Bob is well-prepared. Three weeks before the event, he had written and re-written his lecture several times, edited it with help from his wife Pat and timed it to precisely nine-and-at-half minutes. (All 6 of the evening’s speakers have a 10-minute limit.)
One of the themes Bob hopes to emphasize is that The Wreck of the Apollo barely scratches the surface of the Scott family history. So determined was George to emigrate that he set sail a year later from Liverpool. This time, he landed successfully in New York City, made his way north to Dundas in April of 1848 and opened his drug store in Paris in 1850, the year the village was incorporated.
All these details — and many more — are part of a 13-box collection of letters, artifacts and memorabilia donated to PMHS this year by 2 of the patriarch’s descendants, Aleda Scott of Hamilton and her brother James.
Bob has already spent 300 hours poring over the collection, organizing the contents chronologically, separating business and family correspondence, tracking George Low’s antecedents in Scotland and his descendants throughout Canada and the United States. The papers are in almost pristine shape, he says, thanks to the careful preservation of several generations of heirs.
“I know more about the Scott family than I know about my own family history,” he says, reflecting the all-consuming passion of a dedicated researcher.
Bob is eager to share his knowledge of “a middle-class Canadian family with a strong business ethic and strong faith.”
All he can do in a nine-and-a-half-minute “lightning lecture” is whet listeners’ appetites and urge them to come to the Paris Museum to learn more about the Scott Saga.