The Tea I Left Behind

Saturday, 31 March 1900 - Dublin, Ireland

I am staying at the beautiful Shelbourne Hotel overlooking St. Stephen’s Green here in Dublin. The hotel was opened in 1824 by Martin Burke. He named his hotel after William, the 2nd Earl of Shelbourne and Prime Minister of Britain (1782-83) in an effort to woo genteel customers. The register already looks like a Who’s Who of celebrities and heads of states.

Shelbourne Hotel overlooking St. Stephen's Green

I was asked to record Room 112 in particular. In 1922 Michael Collin’s will use this meeting room to draft the Constitution of the future Irish Republic. I think they may have chosen the Shelborne because during the coming Uprising of 1916, they opened their doors to the wounded and served as a hospital for both sides.

I had a bit of a shock this morning though. One of the servers, looked about 18, asked me if I would care for more tea in a German accent. I asked the fellow where he was from.

My server

“Linz, Austria.”

“How did you wind up in Dublin?”

“I ran away from home.” He scowled. “It was hell. My father beat me; my stepmother ignored me. She dotes on her little darling Adolf. Spoiled brat!”

“Doesn’t sound like a happy family life,” I agreed. “I think I would have run away, too.”

It was then the head waiter snapped his fingers. “Hitler! More tea at this table.” The boy scurried off leaving me feeling some what discombobulated.

Alois Hitler, Sr.
(as mean as he looks)

I knew Hitler is not a common name. Alois Schicklgruber, son of Maria Schicklgruber and...well, historians are still debating over who his father was. Johann Georg Hiedler was his stepfather. At 39 Alois asked permission to use his stepfather’s name and changed the spelling to Hitler. Alois married Anna Glasl-Hörer but had children with his two mistresses who he eventually married, including his cousin Klara with whom he had Adolf. (Sounds like a bad soap opera.)

There are a few records of other Hitlers not related to Adolf even though Hiedler is the more common spelling. Surely this lad isn’t related to THE Adolf Hitler. I pulled out my computer I have disguised as a pocket Bible and proceeded to “read the Good Book,” checking my historic records.

Oh my word! Apparently Alois’ eldest son, Alois Jr. is currently working at the Shelbourne as an apprentice waiter and...this isn’t good...will be arrested for theft soon and sent to jail for five months. Best watch my valuables, eh?

Alois Hitler, Jr.

Future not looking wonderful for Alois; he’s a chip of the old block it appears. He will be arrested on other occasions. He will meet a nice Irish girl named Bridget, elope to London, have a son in Liverpool and then desert them for a gambling trip in Europe and marry another lady in Germany, while still married to Bridget. Fortunately Alois Jr. will stay out of politics, only using his brother’s power to acquire the position of barkeep to the storm troopers at his tavern.

Bridget and their son William Patrick will carry on without Alois. In 1939 the two will go on a lecture tour to America speaking against Adolf, and be stranded there with the outbreak of World War II. Just as well, their digs back in Liverpool were destroyed in the Blitz. William will join the U.S. Navy and change his last name to Stuart-Houston. This Hitler will have a much more stable family life, raising four boys. None of them will have children.

William Patrick Hitler Stuart-Houston

I stared at the tea Adolf Hitler’s brother had poured me, feeling slightly nauseous. I know the Third Reich and the Holocaust are not Alois Jr’s fault. He played no part in them. However he did nothing to oppose his brother like his son had, but took advantage of Adolf's position for his own profit.

I left the tea without drinking it. I think I’ll have breakfast at that restaurant with the Irish name across the street from now on.

An Oversimplified History of Dublin

Thursday, 29 March 1900 - Dublin, Ireland

Map of Dublin circa 1900

Dublin is the largest city in Ireland--its industrial and political center. It’s also the least Irish of her towns since it’s been a dumping ground for cocky invaders for over 1,000 years. The city itself was founded back in the ninth century by marauding Vikings as a camp for their raiding parties.

Funny thing about Ireland is it’s hard to not be swept up by her culture and lilting accent. The Vikings slowly became Irish and turned to commerce, stealing from the natives with high prices rather than by the sword. The local Celts converted the Norsemen to Christianity and things settled back to normal.

In 1155 Pope Adrian, the only English Pope, “gave” Ireland to the Norman conquerors of England. Ireland didn’t agree with this arrangement so the Normans had to take it by force. There was one problem. Ireland at this time had a unique political system. The country was divided up into numerous small kingdoms. These kings pledged allegiance to a High King. However outside of token recognition, the High King was ignored and the lesser kings did as they pleased. So if you conquered the High King of Ireland, all you really conquered was his own little kingdom and not all the lands supposedly subject to him. The power struggle between Normans and natives see-sawed back and forth until Ireland became a patchwork of Gaelic and Norman kingdoms. By the 1300s Normans were Norman in name only, having intermarried with the natives and adopting their culture and language. (I should point out that many leaders of the later Irish Rebellion had Norman names. Indeed “Fitz” is now considered as Irish as “O” or “Mac.”)

In 1366 the English Crown created the Pale (literally “fence”.) It was the area around Dublin, the only part of Ireland that the English had any real hold on. In the Pale, intermarriage between Irish and English, as well as the Irish language, dress and customs were forbidden. The English Monarch became the High King of Ireland, which meant the rest of Ireland pretty much ignored him. Slowly the fence was breached and even the Pale became Irish.

Queen Elizabeth I had had enough. Pope Adrian had given her family Ireland so she felt it was hers. She would finish what the Normans started. So began the long drawn out and complex process of conquest enacted with numerous battles and occasional compromises that really only ended with the Act of Union in 1801. As Scotland and England were united as Great Britain, Ireland was united with Britain to form the United Kingdom. And peace finally came to Ireland...or has it?

The University of Dublin has asked me to come to Dublin to cover Queen Victoria’s visit. They also want me to record the reaction of the people to this very controversial event. Ireland is getting fed-up with this shotgun wedding and wants a divorce. Right now most folks are just pushing for self government as a Dominion like Canada or Australia. Others want a clean break as a totally independent country. I can already feel the dark cloud of revolution in the air that will erupt in 1919. This may not be the best time for an Englishman to be in Ireland, but the University of Dublin assured me there was no records of Englishmen being lynched, so I should be safe enough.

Dublin as she looks in 1900

I also plan to record the city architecture and the culture of Ireland. The Irish are known for their hospitality. If I’m polite conduct myself as a good guest I should be fine. If anyone does get hostile I will tell them I am here to study the magnificent manuscripts of the Irish Golden Age. That should appease any patriotic Irishman.

Besides they are a nation a tea drinkers, so we should get along just fine. (Yes, Ireland drinks more tea per capita than even England!)

The Man Who Painted Toronto's Portrait

Thursday, 1 November 1894 - Toronto, Ontario, Canada

The once colorful maple leafs of autumn are giving up the ghost and are littering the streets. The cold rain hits your skin and feels almost sharp. The precipitation will soon turn to snow. My stay here in Toronto is about up, but I wanted to visit one last person--one many consider Canada’s greatest Victorian painter--Frederic Marlett Bell-Smith.

Frederic Marlett Bell-Smith

Frederic Bell-Smith currently lives at 366 Jarvis Street. It’s not far from the bustle of downtown. I introduced myself as an art collector interested in viewing possible purchases. The lady, whom I assumed was his wife, Annie, took me to Bell-Smith in his studio. I knew he had recently retired from teaching (his last position as Director of the Toronto School of Art in 1889) and was now relying on just his painting to support his family.

Square jawed and stout, Bell-Smith looked more like a banker than an artist. His eyes though had a dreamy far-away look that would not have gotten far in the cut-throat business world. He stuck out his hand to me. “I have some landscapes from my recent trip to the Rockies. Mr. William Van Horne, general manager of the Canadian Pacific Railway, gives free passes to artists.” Bell-Smith chuckled. “I think he hopes we will be inspired to paint the Rockies so others will want to visit them. It certainly inspired me.”

Mists and Glaciers of the Selkirks

I smiled. “Yes, that would be an ingenious advertising ploy.”

He showed me a half-dozen landscapes of mountains and lakes, all breath-taking, but small enough to hang in the dining room. It was then I noticed a large canvas on the other side of the room. It was huge! Almost six and a half feet wide and over four feet tall. The painting was still in progress and the figures roughed out. My heart stopped with a sudden recognition.

“I’ve seen this before,” I blurted, then caught myself. “I mean, there is something familiar about this.”

Lights of a City Street (click on to enlarge)

“It’s the corner of King and Yonge Streets just a few blocks from here. It’s an experiment. I don’t know if it will work. I thought I would try painting the landscape of Toronto and try to capture its spirit.”

“You’re a native?”

“No, born in London. My father was a painter, too. Did portraits. He decided to immigrate to Montreal. I followed him the next year. I was 21. I’ve been toying with moving back to Europe. I could probably make more money, but...I don’t know. Toronto is booming right now. It’s very exciting. I’m hoping to show that in the painting.”

“I see you are showing the new electric streetcars. And your police officer looks vaguely familiar.”

“You have probably seen him. That’s Bill Redford, the constable that is stationed on that very corner. They man tipping his hat is my son the reverend and the fellow being assaulted by the newsboys is me.”

I had to laugh. “Bringing back the old Renaissance tradition of the artist sticking themselves in the painting, eh?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever sell anything this big. And I’m not sure if people will even like something as mundane as downtown.”

I wished him luck on his experiment. I told him I liked several of the landscape paintings, but wanted to bring my wife back to help me pick out the perfect painting for our parlor. If I picked wrong I would never hear the end of it. (My poor imaginary wife gets blamed for all sorts of things.) I would have loved to have bought a painting, but that would have removed it from the 19th century and changed history. I’ll just have to visit them in a museum when I get home.

Westminster Bridge

As for the experiment, Frederic Bell-Smith will finally get the courage in 1897 to publicly display Lights of a City Street. The natives will instantly recognize the corner and be amazed at how an ordinary scene could be made so beautiful. It was such a hit that he began painting more cityscapes not only of Toronto, but also of London on his numerous visits.

Bell-Smith also found a buyer for his huge masterpiece almost immediately. Simpsons Limited will buy and display it at their Queen Street department store. No doubt it brought in many customers. It will eventually wind up in the art collection of the Hudson Bay Company, but will remain where the public can view it. Lights of a City Street might be privately owned for many centuries, but it has always been recognized as belonging to the people of Toronto.

 

In 1895 Frederic Bell-Smith will even be given the unprecedented opportunity to have Her Majesty Queen Victoria sit for him. She seldom poses for anyone. Luckily he is friends with Louise, a fellow artist and the wife of the former Governor General of Canada. She is also the daughter of Queen Victoria. She managed to talk “Mum” into allowing Bell Smith to paint her.

(He added himself in this painting, too.)

Saving the World One Child at a Time

Friday, 27 October 1894 - Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Last week I visited the Lakeside Home for Little Children on Toronto Island. It is a summer retreat for convalescing patients of the institute I recorded today. The Victoria Hospital for Sick Children, which opened two years ago, and is a an impressive state of the art hospital with 320 beds. Quite a far cry from its very humble beginnings.

Victoria Hospital of Sick Children

Back in April of 1875, a 31-year-old housewife named Elizabeth McMaster stumbled upon the death statistics for Toronto. She noticed half of the deaths were children. This was common in the Victorian Age, but McMaster decided to do something about it. Many of these deaths might have been prevented if the children of poor families could have access to medical care. London had a children’s hospital. Why couldn’t Toronto?

Elizabeth McMaster

McMaster started a committee of eleven like-minded women, and collected enough funds to open the Hospital for Sick Children. They rented a modest house and installed six iron cots. The ladies volunteered as nurses, and McMaster also doubled as the manager, public relations, bookkeeper and anything else that was needed.

McMaster had her work cut out for her. Although she encouraged parents to pay what they could, it was never enough to cover costs. She didn’t want to turn away any child just because their parents were struggling. She went about the community begging for money to save the children.

Their first patient was a scald victim named Maggie. By the end of the year 44 children had been admitted and 67 had been treated as outpatients. The next year they moved to a larger house with 16 beds. Twice more they moved to larger buildings, but what they needed was a real hospital.

McMaster’s enterprise came to the notice of John Ross Robertson, publisher of the Evening Telegram. He became chairman of the Hospital's Board of Trustees and used his clout and own money to build Canada’s first pediatric hospital. McMaster handed over the command to the committee and earned her certification as a registered nurse (a rather new profession) so she could take over as Lady Superintendent.

I searched for McMaster but found she had left. Apparently she and Robertson had irreconcilable differences. Too bad. I was told she was now working in an American hospital. Still Elizabeth McMaster shall be remembered as the founder of the Toronto's Hospital for Sick Children. The Victoria part never stuck. Instead it will keep the name McMaster gave it, although it will one day go by the nickname “SickKids.”

Lakeside Home for Little Children

The Hospital for Sick Children will not only become one of the leading pediatric hospitals in the world but also one of the leading research hospitals after it teams up with the University of Toronto. Although the first research laboratory won’t be set up until 1918, the hospital has already been on the forefront of innovation. A few of it’s milestones are or will be:
1883 - Opens Canada’s first a fresh air sanitarium for tuberculosis on Toronto Island (Lakeside Home for Little Children.)
1892 - First hospital to open a school for its patients
1899 - Opens first children’s Orthopaedic Shop to provide splints, braces and other specially designed prosthetic appliances.
1908 - Installs the first milk pasteurization plant in Canada
1919 - Pioneers blood transfusions for children
1921 - In partnership with University of Toronto, discovers insulin.
1930 - Invents Pablum to combat infant malnutrition
1934 - Demonstrates the value of enriching milk with vitamin D as a cure for rickets.
1951 - Develops a heart-lung machine.
1957 - Performs first Innominate Osteotomy, a surgical procedure to repair congenital dislocation of the hips.
1963 - Develops the surgery called the Mustard Procedure used to help correct heart problems in blue babies.
1979 - Invents continuous passive motion for use in reconstructive joint surgery
1987 - Identifies the gene responsible for Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, followed by the discoveries of countless genes causing other diseases.

Elizabeth McMaster set out to help the poor children of Toronto. What she started will one day help sick children all over the world. In trying to save hundreds, she will save billions.


website for Hospital for Sick Children (SickKids)

Commercial for the Toronto Hospital for Sick Children

SickKids--Together We Will

The Boy in Blue

Friday, 19 October 1894, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

This week I have been staying in the Hotel Hanlan on Toronto Island. Until 1858, this island was a peninsula, until a big storm washed away the connecting land. The island is really a shifting sandbar, but people build summer cottages here anyway.

Toronto Island, across the Harbour from Toronto

One of the first settlers to the newly formed island was an Irish fisherman named John Hanlan. He built a home for his family on the east end of the island, but in 1865 a storm blew the building off its foundation and across the harbour to the west end of the island. John took the hint and built a small hotel on the spot for the tourists coming from across the bay. This is now called Hanlan Point.

I have been staying at Hotel Hanlan with a lovely view of the harbour from my window. John passed away some years ago, but his son Edward, better known as Ned, has taken over. Ned in fact invested quite a bit of money in enlarging the place. Ned got rich rowing. In fact many a Torontonian got rich betting he could out row everyone else.

Hotel Hanlan in 1894

Living on an island and the son of a fisherman, Ned could easily row across the harbor by the time he was five. He rowed several kilometers everyday so he could attend school on the mainland. He developed a technique while still a child, so he could beat all the adult fishermen to market with the fish he caught so he would get the best price.

Ned Hanlan rowing in a competition

In 1871 at the age of sixteen, Ned began competing in rowing races and became the best in Toronto. Five years later a group of astute investors decided to form a syndicate club to back Ned so he could compete professionally. They bought him a state of the art racing boat with two new innovations: swivel oar locks and a sliding seat. Both helped the rower lengthen his stroke. Soon Ned was competing in the United States and became the North American champion. In 1880 Ned went to England to become the world champion.

All the other racers had sliding seats, too, but Ned was the first to learn how to really use it to the best advantage. Only 150 pounds and less than 5’9”, he was smaller than most of the men he raced against. However they rowed with their arms; Ned used his legs. He rowed 36 strokes per minute while others rowed 44, but each of his strokes had more power and took him further. Ned was so fast he once mocked an arrogant competitor by crossing the finish line, then doubling back to where his opponent was so he could beat him twice in the same race.

Ned Hanlan

During Ned Hanlan’s career he won more than 300 races and suffered defeat less than a dozen times. He has recently retired and is now concentrating on the hotel. People are trying to talk him into going into politics. He will eventually become an alderman. However, his real passion is still rowing. He will start coaching the University of Toronto Rowing Club in 1897, then in 1900 go on to coach the Rowing Crew at Columbia University in New York. He will pass his secrets on to the next generation. Ned Hanlan is considered the father of modern one man rowing, better known as sculling.

Ned Hanlan always wore a blue shirt when racing, earning him the nickname “the boy in blue.” He will be remembered as the greatest Canadian athlete of the nineteenth century. And all because he couldn’t afford to ride the ferry to school.