Kitchener: An Illustrated History

KITCHENER

An Illustrated History

John English and Kenneth McLaughlin

The history of Kitchener is unique among cities in southern Ontario. Although Kitchener shares so much of the character of the region today, its past was considerably different. Until 1916, Kitchener was Berlin, Canada’s German capital Over two-thirds of the residents were of German origin; many retained strong traces of that past. These became controversial when Canada fought two wars against Germany. By the middle of the First World War, the idea of a patch of Germany in the heart of southern Ontario became untenable. Berlin became Kitchener, but not without a battle which split the small city.

This is the first scholarly history of Kitchener. Based on wide-ranging research, it illustrates how a community so unlike its neighbours became a part of the broader Canadian community in the twentieth century. Much of the information is new, and many myths are punctured. The romantic mists which have surrounded the story of the early Mennonite settlers are lifted. The full story of the great controversies of the First World War is told for the first time. The impact of the Depression and the extraordinary economic boom which accompanied the Second World War are analyzed. Kitchener’s sometimes-eccentric politicians are seen, not as deviations, but as representatives of a long tradition of civic populism.

Over 100 photographs accompany the text. Maps and tables further illuminate Kitchener’s development. Kitchener: An Illustrated History will be of interest, not only to its residents, but also to Canadians generally who are interested in the history of multiculturalism and the transition from rural to urban Canada. This book illustrates the difficulties as well as the rewards of maintaining distinct cultural traditions. The problems it identifies concern many Canadians today.

John English Department of History, University of Waterloo, is the author of The Decline of Politics: The Conservatives and the Party System, Robert Borden: His Life and World, and co-author of Canada Since 1945: Power, Politics, and Provincialism.

Kenneth McLaughlin Head of the History Department, St. Jerome’s College, University of Waterloo, has been co-editor of Ontario History. He is also active in preserving Ontario’s architectural heritage.

KITCHENER

An Illustrated History

KITCHENER

An Illustrated History

John English and Kenneth McLaughlin

Wilfrid Laurier University Press

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data

English, John, 1945-

Kitchener : an illustrated history

Bibliography: p.

Includes index.

ISBN 0-88920-137-4 (bound). - ISBN 0-88920-141-2 (pbk.)

1. Kitchener (Ont.) - History.     I. McLaughlin,

Kenneth, 1943-     II. Title.

FC3099.K5E64 1983          971.3'45          C83-098930-7

F1059.5.K5E64 1983

Copyright © 1983

WILFRID LAURIER UNIVERSITY PRESS

Waterloo, Ontario, Canada N2L 3C5

83 84 85 86 4 3 2 1

Cover design by Polygon Design Limited, incorporating Peter Etril Snyder’s print of the Joseph Schneider House

No part of this book may be stored in a retrieval system, translated or reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, microfiche, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher.

To

Grace Schmidt

and the tradition she represents

CONTENTS

LIST OF TABLES

PREFACE by Alan F. J. Artibise

INTRODUCTION

1 THE EARLY YEARS

2 COUNTY TOWN, 1852-1880

3 THE COMING OF AGE, 1880-1912

4 BERLIN BECOMES KITCHENER

5 KITCHENER BETWEEN TWO WARS

6 KITCHENER AFTER 1940

CONCLUSION

NOTES

SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING

STATISTICAL APPENDIX

INDEX

LIST OF TABLES

1 The Impact of the Depression

2 Comparative Civic Finances

3 Economic Growth in Kitchener-Waterloo, 1939 and 1943

4 Wages in Kitchener-Waterloo, 1939 and 1943

5 Household Incomes in Kitchener-Waterloo, 1939 and 1944

6 Comparative Housing Characteristics of Canadian Cities, 1961

7 The Growth of Manufacturing in Berlin-Kitchener, 1871-1971

8 Berlin Industries which Received Tax Exemptions and/or Bonuses

9 Population Growth of Urban Areas in the Region, 1871-1971

10 Number of Males Per Thousand Females in Berlin-Kitchener, 1871-1971

11 Urban Population Growth of Berlin-Kitchener and Ontario, 1871-1971

12 Population Growth in Berlin-Kitchener, 1871-1971

13 Birthplace of Berlin-Kitchener’s Canadian-Born Population, 1871-1961

14 Birthplace of Berlin-Kitchener’s Foreign-Born Population, 1871-1971

15 Ethnic Origins of Berlin-Kitchener’s Population, 1871-1971

16 Major Religious Affiliations of Berlin-Kitchener’s Population, 1871-1971

17 Labour Force of Berlin-Kitchener by Industry, 1911-1951

18 Age Composition of Berlin-Kitchener’s Population, 1871-1971

PREFACE

For generations, one of the main forms of Canadian historical writing has been biography. Indeed, it is sometimes said that Canadian historians and writers have elevated this form to standards rarely equalled elsewhere. This tradition is also apparent in the writing of urban biography. There is in this country a long list of volumes that claim to be urban biographies and that attempt to capture the personality of a particular community. Unfortunately, many of these volumes are of interest mainly to local residents since the authors usually only chronicle local events and emphasize the greatness of community achievements. Until recently, urban biographers rarely asked searching questions about the process of urbanization, contenting themselves with elaborate accounts of the first settlers to establish ties with a glorious past. This is not to deny that these volumes are useful in the search for historical understanding; they are. The antiquarian writers base their work on the assumption that specific towns and cities have distinct personalities, and this is a tradition that still has value. As well, local histories serve as valuable sources. They provide outlines of past events and often suggest subjects for further study.

For all its value, however, antiquarian local history remains parochial; and, in an age when the purpose of history is no longer to glorify the past but to enable a society to understand itself, new approaches are necessary. A more sophisticated methodology must be adopted, one that includes more interpretation and analysis of historical events, exploration into the causes of social change, the study of the relationship among the several dimensions of human experience (economic, political, social, demographic, and spatial), and the use of the relevant tools and concepts developed by the social sciences. In addition, as H. J. Dyos noted, the urban historian has to be concerned with the historical process of urbanization, a process which envelops an enormous range of places, not only within one country, but across the face of the globe. The challenge is to relate this complex process to the specific experience of particular places; to use the particularity of the place to illustrate the generalities of the process, and vice versa. In this way local history ceases to be parochial and becomes part of the larger story.

The authors of this volume have accepted these challenges, for this history of Kitchener not only examines all aspects of community development but relates the parts to a larger context. While Professors English and McLaughlin have discovered Kitchener’s distinct personality, they have also provided analysis that lifts the narrative of the city’s experience to the level where it elucidates questions that are of concern to Canadians generally. These questions include such issues as ethnic relationships, regionalism, provincial-municipal interaction, social mobility, labour-management relationships, urban planning, and general economic development.

The authors’ text is also enhanced by a fine collection of illustrations. This illustrative material is not only visually enjoyable, it also plays an essential part in recreating and understanding the past. While photographs and maps cannot by themselves replace the written word, they can be used as a primary source in a way equivalent to more traditional sources. The illustrations in this volume capture the images of a wide variety of situations in Kitchener, allowing our generation to understand better the forms, structures, fashions, and interrelationships of earlier periods.

There is, finally, one other noteworthy feature of this volume in particular and good urban biography in general. It is to be hoped that the residents of Kitchener will, as an important part of their process of planning for the future, turn to their history. Progress is, after all, related to the legacy of the past, just as a city is related to the larger society. The goal of looking backwards is to seek to understand and use the past in a creative way. Thus, the value of volumes such as this history of Kitchener is that by outlining and analyzing how the city worked in the past—by examining its successes and failures—citizens can better understand how they got to where they are today. It is also to be hoped that an awareness of their history will assist the residents of Kitchener in deciding for themselves what they can do to control and plan future urban development.

The use of the past in the service of the future must, however, be based on a clear understanding of the limits of the exercise. The past is usable not as a clear guide for shaping the city or even as a means of delimiting a particular range of alternatives. It is, rather, to be used as an active part of the context within which decisions are made. In framing urban policy, policy makers, whether they are municipal politicians, planners, or citizens generally, usually have preconceived notions of the past, or at least what they think was the past. As a result, policies are often misguided or inadequate. True policy is a decision about where a city wants to go, a decision based on a sensitive appreciation and consciousness of where it has been. It is in the past that the community will find a reservoir of information and insights. In some ways, this reservoir suffers from the fact that, if it is good history, it is not specifically designed to serve any particular policy concern. But its very variety allows history to serve the community in multiple ways. And, given the challenges of our current era, communities need policies that will deal with conditions of variety and diversity.

Alan F. J. Artibise

Director

Institute of Urban Studies

University of Winnipeg

INTRODUCTION

Standing at Kitchener’s major intersection of King and Queen Streets, a casual visitor might well agree with John Kenneth Galbraith’s observation that the southern Ontario countryside is devoid of topographic, ethnic or historical interest. The clutter of Kitchener’s downtown reminds one of so many other smaller North American cities where bright facades fitfully cover up weary structures and familiar brand names compete for the passerby’s attention, sometimes in flashing neon, sometimes with great bargains. From the corner of King and Queen, the streets seem to lead to more of the same. There are no mountain vistas or sweeping river valleys at the pavement’s end. Nor are there ethnic neighbourhoods alive with the foreign chatter and aromas that one finds in Toronto, Vancouver, and other large cities where newcomers cluster.

To a modern observer, then, the topography of the area is unremarkable, and ethnic variety is not striking. There are also few traces of Kitchener’s history. For Kitchener, as for most southern Ontario cities, economic progress required that the old give way quickly to the new. Reminders of Kitchener’s civic life a century ago are rare. There are some remnants, but they do not suggest a stirring past. Kitchener, therefore, would seem to merit the brusque dismissal Galbraith gave the southern Ontario region. In fact, it does not.

Kitchener today may seem like its southern Ontario neighbours, but its past was significantly different. It began as a settlement of Mennonites, a people who rejected the worldly values of British North America. It soon became Berlin, a haven for German immigrants to British North America. These Germans brought with them special skills and knowledge as well as their own cultural traditions. By the 1880s, Berlin was Canada’s German capital, and, like Germany itself, Berlin’s economic success was widely attributed to the industry and community pride of its people. Berlin was different from its overwhelmingly British neighbours, such as Guelph, Brantford, and London; and in those times it was proud of its different ways.

In the twentieth century, however, Canada fought two wars with Germany. In the First World War the fight was against Germanness as well as against Germany. Berlin, which in prewar days had loudly proclaimed its distinctiveness, became Kitchener in 1916. The decision to take the name of Britain’s most famous warrior split the community. In the last years of the First World War, Kitchener was an angry city, unsure of its future and resentful of the way in which the outside world was imposing change upon it.

After the war the resentment disappeared, but the changes did not. Kitchener’s history after 1920 testifies to the effectiveness of modern communications and education in breaking down traditional differences or, stated pejoratively, in stifling unusual growth. Kitchener became much more like the province surrounding it. In the Second World War Kitchener rallied as enthusiastically as its neighbours to the Canadian cause. In the postwar era it shared fully in the remarkable economic growth of the central Ontario region. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, as Canada began to boast about its multicultural tolerance and variety, Kitchener once more expressed its German identity through a rollicking, annual Oktoberfest. Those who recalled earlier, harder times must have seen much irony in the fact that Kitchener again proclaimed its Germanness—in the first decade in its history when those of British origin exceeded those of German origin. Kitchener had thrived not by emphasizing its differences but by adapting to the community around it.

We hope that readers of this book will come to understand why this southern Ontario city chose to change as it did.

Our interest in Kitchener derives from our familiarity with the community as we grew up. In 1974 we were asked to teach a course in local history; we realized then that Kitchener was an especially interesting subject to study because of its German background. The study of Kitchener also raised broader questions about cultural change and Canadian urban development. The National Museum of Man gave us financial support to begin work on this book. The work of the Waterloo Historical Society in preserving the records of Kitchener’s past made our task much easier. The Kitchener Public Library preserves those records and extends to researchers the fullest co-operation and courtesy. We owe a particular debt to Lynn Matthews, the chief librarian, and to Grace Schmidt, who, besides being a splendid librarian, is a remarkable repository of knowledge about Kitchener’s past. We would also like to thank Susan Hoffman and Ryan Taylor for their help at the library. Several others have helped us with our research. Archie Gillies gave us access to the valuable records of the Kitchener Chamber of Commerce. The staff of the City Clerk’s office was especially helpful in providing access to Kitchener’s civic records.

Our footnotes reveal the great debt we owe to our students. To all of those we sent to the library basement to pore over old newspapers and files, we would like to extend our thanks. A number of students were particularly helpful: Gordon Cale, John Carter, Robert Cornish, Teresa Deppisch, Jeannie Gillespie, Mark Godin, Marianne Huber, Rosanne Polillo, Tom Schaefer, Dennis Stoetz, Annamaria Tessaro, Bonnie Tough, and Ron Welker. Patricia Myers and Peter Schmalz were most helpful research assistants. Catherine Barclay worked for one and a half summers as our research assistant and typist. Without her valuable work, this overdue book would have taken even longer. All of the above were not only good students but good company. We appreciate them for both qualities.

Susan Burke of the Joseph Schneider House and Jane Humphries and Alexandra Konstantos-Mustakas of Woodside were helpful with details about the 1850s and the 1890s. Wendy Collishaw gave us information from her research on Kitchener’s architectural history. Gail Heideman, Kathy Sage, and Laura Moyer managed to make clean type out of clumsy scrawl. From the project’s beginning, our institutions, the University of Waterloo and St. Jerome’s College, and our colleagues there have assisted us. The book has had the blessing of two priests, our good friends, Norm Choate, President of St. Jerome’s College, and the late Hugh MacKinnon, the former chairman of the History Department at the University of Waterloo. We thank them for their support and remember Hugh fondly.

Editorial assistance for the volume came from Alan Artibise, who has contributed a preface to the book. Alan’s exceptional knowledge of Canadian urban history was invaluable in keeping us upon the academic path he treads so surely. Peter Rider of the National Museum of Man also helped us with pertinent comments. Diane Mew spent many hours on this manuscript. Like all authors who have worked with Diane, we can testify to her extraordinary sense of what can make a manuscript better. This book is much better because of the time she gave it. Wilfrid Laurier University Press took on this manuscript when it was seeking refuge, and the Press has been for us the model of what a publisher should be. Harold Remus, the Director of the Press, and the Press’s Editorial Committee accepted willingly what was a difficult project. Heather Blain is responsible for the book’s layout, and she accomplished this difficult task in record time. Doreen Armbruster, the Press’s Production Co-ordinator, was responsible for almost everything else. She even gave door-to-door service with proofs; she merits special thanks. Lisa Cheeseman has sorted out the difficult problems of our index.

The Kitchener-Waterloo Record has been most generous in allowing us access to its fine collection of photographs. Sandy Baird, the publisher, was especially helpful. He encouraged us in our work and offered us full use of the Record’s fine facilities. We owe the Record and its staff, especially Jon Fear, a great debt. Others who have provided photographs include the Kitchener Public Library, the Public Archives of Canada, the Public Archives of Ontario, the Waterloo Historical Society, Peter and Betty Sims, Ross and Yvonne Weichel, Michael and Irene Knell, Dr. Louis and Roxy Lang. Dr. Lang has also given us hours of his time and has cleared up many problems for us. Harry Huehnergard of the Record not only identified many of the individuals in the photographs but also made available the photographs for us. They have made this a much richer book.

The distinguished artist, Peter Etril Snyder, kindly granted us permission to reproduce his painting of the Joseph Schneider House for our cover. All will agree that it has made the book more attractive.

We would also like to thank our wives, Hilde and Elizabeth, for their encouragement and their patience. They have lived with the manuscript for a long time, and they are probably even more pleased than we are that it has appeared.

Finally, we thank Lome Ste. Croix of the Ontario Heritage Foundation and the Ministry of Citizenship and Culture for the generous financial support which has made publication possible.

1 THE EARLY YEARS

On April 16, 1833 young James Potter had gone toward Berlin. In hunting for the Town he walked through bush and swamp … and found his way to Bishop Eby’s when he was told that he had missed the Town which consisted then of a few straggling houses around the corner of King and Queen Streets. All west of Gaukel’s tavern was a dense and impassable swamp.

—Galt Reporter, June 7, 1883

The site on which the village had begun to develop was most unlikely. Far removed from navigable water, it was not even at the crossroads of a highway or thoroughfare, and it was without a major river to provide water power for the needs of future inhabitants. Adjacent to a dense cedar and tamarack swamp, the settlement was located where the Great Road from Dundas cut across the farm of Joseph Schneider, a Mennonite pioneer who had arrived in Upper Canada in 1807. The few houses and shops were strung along the road which was bounded by sandhills over which loaded wagons could hardly be drawn and on a windy day the sand would form ridges almost obliterating the roadway. The Great Road was something of a misnomer; it was virtually impassable during the wet season, and for years boardwalks would have to be raised on cedar posts to keep wary pedestrians out of the mud.¹

Prior to 1833 this area near the first Mennonite meeting house was simply called "Ben Eby’s—a mark of respect and affection for the Mennonite bishop, Benjamin Eby, who had settled there in 1807. It was also known as Ebytown and, appropriately enough, Sandhills. It was certainly not known for its natural beauty or for its convenience for travellers. The site was part of what had once been a tract of more than six hundred thousand acres set aside by the British Crown in 1784 as a reserve for the Six Nation Indians. It was both a reward for their loyalty to the Crown during the Revolutionary War and a compensation for part of their traditional homelands and hunting grounds lost to the newly independent United States.²

John Graves Simcoe, Lieutenant-Governor of Upper Canada

The Indians, led by Joseph Brant, concluded that it would be to their benefit to sell a large part of these vast holdings so as to provide an annuity for themselves. Brant’s plans were first blocked by the Lieutenant-Governor of Upper Canada, John Graves Simcoe, and then delayed by Peter Russell, who succeeded Simcoe as administrator of the province.³ Russell’s concerns were twofold: that the Indians did not have the right to dispose of these lands; and that if they were given that right Brant was prepared to sell to subjects of the United States, some of whom were officers in the American revolutionary army. It was finally agreed in 1797 that the land would be surveyed and sold by the government on behalf of the Indians. On February 5, 1798, the Executive Council of Upper Canada signed deeds for the conveyance of 352,710 acres, more than half of the Indian reservation. The land designated as Block 2 of the Six Nation Reserve—94,012 acres—was sold for the sum of £8,887, provincial currency.⁴

Colonel Richard Beasley, who acquired the major interest in the new purchase, would have satisfied even the scruples of John Graves Simcoe, for Beasley evinced an unquestioned loyalty to the British Crown. A United Empire Loyalist, he had already received a grant of twelve hundred acres of land, the maximum fixed for Loyalist grants. As a cousin of the Cart-wrights of Kingston, he was well connected in the small society of Upper Canada, and indeed he had entertained the Simcoes at Barton, his home near Burlington at the head of Lake Ontario. He was also a member of the Legislative Assembly at York and represented the electoral district of West York, which included the greater part of the Indian reserve. Beasley immediately began offering land from his Indian purchase for sale. Although land some thirty miles inland from the centres of commerce along the lakefront might not have been especially appealing, it did attract one group of settlers—Mennonite farmers from Pennsylvania for whom such isolation was an advantage.

The Mennonites in Pennsylvania, like other American colonists, had been caught up in the excitement and ferment of the revolutionary era. The war itself had directly affected them, as the fighting had reached far into Pennsylvania. Although the Mennonites had been indifferent to the American revolutionary movement, they were somewhat less than sanguine when the Quakers’ hold on the state government was ended and political control of the state shifted to the more radical western section.⁵ Some of their fears were quelled by the Continental Congresses of 1775 and 1776 which determined that Quakers, Mennonites, and other such sects could continue to practise freedom of worship and be exempt from bearing arms—the same guarantees they had enjoyed under the British Crown. Nonetheless, the unhappy experience of some Mennonites during the war had made them sceptical about Congress’s ability to guarantee these rights.

By the end of the Revolutionary War, land prices in Pennsylvania were prohibitively expensive. Cleared land was selling for more than $100 an acre and farms in Pennsylvania had already been divided several times during the previous century of occupancy. The Mennonites, like so many other colonists, began to seek out new areas for settlement.⁶

Chewitt’s map of Upper Canada, 1813

A number of Pennsylvania Mennonites joined the trek in search of inexpensive land in Ohio and in Upper Canada. The earliest settlers from Pennsylvania had arrived in Upper Canada in 1786. Although not Loyalists, they found it easy to live under British rule and by 1802 more than thirty Pennsylvania Mennonite families had settled along the shore of Lake Ontario in a community known as the Twenty—being twenty miles from the Niagara River. The Twenty had become something of a stopping-off place for their co-religionists journeying from Pennsylvania. Hence, in 1799 when Joseph Schoerg and Samuel Betzner came to Upper Canada in search of land, they stayed there and probably first learned of the new inland area purchased by Richard Beasley the previous year. In the spring of 1800 Betzner and Schoerg travelled to Beasley’s Tract where each chose a homestead site and acquired a deed for their property from Beasley.

Despite the arduous trip from Pennsylvania, which took up to five weeks, the Betzners and Schoergs were soon joined by others from Pennsylvania. Within two years some twenty-five families had settled on Block 2 of the former Indian lands. It came as a painful shock to them when one of the Pennsylvania farmers, Samuel Bricker, learned that some of Beasley’s creditors had called his land dealings into question and that the Pennsylvania Germans did not hold a clear title to their land. Beasley, it