IN RETURN The Autobiography of Sigmund Samuel

WITH A FOREWORD BY

J. KEILLER MACKAY

Sigmund Samuel was born in Toronto in 1867 and died there in 1962; his long life spans many developments in its commercial, social, and cultural life and this autobiography records his interest in these developments and his contribution to them. The open­ ing chapters provide an evocative pic­ ture of life in Toronto in the latter part of the nineteenth century and will especially appeal to those interested in the city's history. Following chapters describe the young Sigmund Samuel's participation in the family business, which later involved residence in England. As a result both of his .sue- . cess in business and of his keen attrac­ tion to history, he soon became engaged in many an undertaking de­ signed to assist in building up the collections of artistic and historical material especially in his native Toronto, the best known of these now being the Sigmund Samuel gallery of Canadiana of the Royal Ontario Museum. The later chapters of this autobiography describe his assembling of many entries in these collections, and the book itself contains a number of illustrations which help to show the nature and quality of the things he gathered and at the same time relate to events of his own story. Mr. Samuel's story of his life, written in an easy and readable manner, forms a valuable addition to the social his­ tory of Toronto and Canada.

$4.50

IN RETURN

The Autobiography of Sigmund Samuel

IN RETURN The Autobiography of Sigmund Samuel

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS @ UNIVERSITY OP TORONTO PRESS 1963 Printed in Canada Foreword

J. KEILLER MACKAY

DURING THE LAST YEARS of a long, distinguished and fruitful life Sigmund Samuel, LL.D., yielding to the importunity of his multitudinous friends, concluded a compilation of episodes, historical and otherwise, which portray the interesting, eventful and arresting story of his life. This narrative of events, now history, is presented in most impressive and readable form. I have been honoured by being invited to contribute what littera­ teurs describe as a "foreword." The career of Sigmund Samuel shows a profound and understanding interest in a wide range of activities. No one can read these memoirs without being impressed by his versatility, a strong historic sense, a deep love of Canada and an unswerving attachment to British institutions together with a delicate and artistic appreciation ofthe beautiful, both in art and in literature. Dr. Samuel's knowledge of literature, especially poetry, was both wide and comprehensive. He had an intimate knowledge of Shakespeare, Milton, Macaulay and Kipling. Often I have heard him recite from his remarkable memory lengthy excerpts from those authors and Gray's "Elegy" in its entirety. On one occasion at his annual New Year's Day Reception in response to a Toast to his Health, as a final thought, he recited Cowper's beautiful hymn, God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. His mind was the repository of literary gems which on proper occasions he used with extraordinary aptitude and propriety. VI Foreword If his love of literature was great his devotion to Canadian history was transcendent. By invincible purpose, unremitting search and the expenditure oflarge sums of money he collected and made available for posterity those charters, records, muni­ ments and other treasures which tell the story of our nation's life. His practical vision early conceived that there should be a deeper knowledge and keener appreciation of the priceless heritage bequeathed to us by those brave and intrepid pioneers who carved this great land from the ocean and the wilderness, and those other heroes who planted Britannia's flag and trans­ planted her political institutions which down through the generations have blazed the path and made clear the way by which the people of the British Commonwealth have marched to liberty and to freedom. In addition to the Canadiana Gallery which he built to house this priceless collection, Dr. Samuel's liberality to the Toronto Western Hospital, the Royal Ontario Museum and the Sigmund Samuel Library of the University of Toronto has been in bountiful measure. It is difficult if not impossible to view from a single standpoint the stately procession of his philanthropies which for more than half a century closely followed one an­ other or clearly to apprehend the magnitude of the character and quality that produced them. Although a great and successful industrialist, Dr. Samuel never for a moment succumbed to that tendency to sub­ ordinate all action to the purely utilitarian or economic motive; rather with devotion and sustained enthusiasm he poured out his treasure and talents with great generosity for the furtherance of the intellectual and cultural development of the Canadian people. I unreservedly commend this volume of memoirs as the production of a great Canadian. Dr. Samuel has left to his family and friends, to the people of Canada, yea to generations yet unborn, the greatest gift that man can give to man-the memory of a good name and the inheritance and inspiration of a great example. Preface

1 WAS BORN in Toronto on October 24, 1867, only a few months after the Dominion of Canada, and along with her I have had the good fortune to grow and prosper. My English father and my Bavarian mother-like my country, I come of two nationalities-settled in this city in r 85 5, and in the same year the family company was established with branches in England and Canada. My schooling, brief as it was, and my longer practical training in business all took place in Toronto. I have been su~ject to influences which Canada and her people have always felt: in my youth, the pursuit of business almost made me an American, and, in my prime, ties ofsentiment and history carried me across the Atlantic fifty-two times while I divided my home between Toronto and London. I love England, the freest, the finest and the most enlightened country in the world. Yet all the time I spent there, even when I was campaigning most vigorously for a seat in her Parliament, I was like the Spaniard whose body was in Cordova but whose soul was in Madrid. Canada was always my home. Almost my first act on settling in London was to begin collecting early Canadian prints and paintings, the adult realization of a dream which began at Model School in Toronto, and which grew into an abiding passion to inspire others with my own love for Canada's history. I have always been a businessman and proud of it, for the businessman makes an important contribution to his country Vlll Preface by providing employment for others. I made my own way by salesmanship, hard bargaining, scrupulous honesty and fair profits in good times and bad. This side of my life has always had a special appeal, but I saw quite early that there was no reason merely to accumulate the money thus gained, or to live extravagantly. As long as my family had enough to live com­ fortably, that was enough, and in this view I was supported for fifty-three years by my dear wife. Rather, I have always felt an obligation to the community of which I am a member and from which my money has come. As soon as it became possible to engage in philanthropy I began to do so, never restricting gifts to a specific segment of the population but trying instead to serve the greatest number. For more than twenty years, I have not kept a penny from the business for mysel£ It has all been returned to the community. A man must show his gratitude if he can. SIGMUND SAMUEL Contents

FOREWORD V PREFACE vii I COMMUNITY 3 2 BUSINESS 13 3 BOYHOOD 27 4 SCHOOL I NG 43 5 TRAINING 53 6 LEISURE 62 7 SELL I NG 70 8 ENGLAND 80 9 PARTNERS 89 IO WAR 96 II LONDON 106 12 TORONTO 120 13 IN RETURN 132 14 COLLECT I NG 144 15 CANADIAN A 152 16 EPILOGUE 161 INDEX 163

Illustrations follow page 54 Publisher's Note

WE ACKNOWLEDGE with pleasure the constant, careful, and cheerful assistance of Mr. Ian Montagnes in the preparation of the manuscript and the resulting book. Personal photographs have been kindly lent by the family of Dr. Samuel. The other illustrations appear by courtesy of the Royal Ontario Museum, University of Toronto; except for the Greek amphora, the originals are items in the Sigmund Samuel Gallery of Canadiana. IN RETURN

The Autobiography of Sigmund Samuel

1. Community

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I HAVE NO IDEA when my father's family first reached England. Some of them were among the refugees who fled to the Continent in 1290, when Edward I banished the Jews after generations ofroyal taxes and tortures had drained their wealth. I have been told that one branch of the Samuel family actually was allowed to remain in England despite their religion: they were prominent surgeons, the only doctors with the skill to remove kidney and gall stones without killing the patient, so that even in those fanatical days bigotry seems to have bowed to expediency. My own ancestors went to Holland with many of their fellows, where they were welcomed and where they quickly turned to commerce. They seem to have been born traders and in time their descendants established a thriving import business in sugar with the West Indies. According to a family story, the island of Surinam, the source of most of their sugar, was named after them, because Surinam was the closest the Dutch could get in pronunciation to Samuel. 4 In Return The banishment of the Jews from England continued until the final years of Oliver Cromwell's rule, when at last some members of the religion were given permission to return and trade. After nearly four centuries my ancestors returned from Holland and settled in Yorkshire at Hull, the seaport where they landed. Our family arms were granted at that time, although they apparently fell into disuse because I had never heard of them until I sought a set of my own some years ago at the College of Arms in London. Then they were discovered in the records and adapted for my Canadian family branch by super­ imposing a maple leaf on the arms of Yorkshire. I know little more about the history of my own ancestors until the birth of my father, Lewis Samuel, in 1827. The family then was still living in Hull, though Father's mother had come from Leicester. She was the breadwinner ofthe family, since my grandfather was an Orthodox Jew and, as was customary among such people, spent most of his time reading religious works. Grandmother carried on some sort of business in Hull and then, when Father was about eight years old, moved the family to the East End of London where she opened shop near the docks, catering mainly to the sailors who came to the capital from all over the world. She must have been a very successful businesswoman, for on her death twenty-two years later she left to each ofher large family two thousand guineas, which was a good sum in those days. The East End of London was already beginning to develop its special polyglot flavour when father lived there. Petticoat Lane, still one of London's most colourful attractions, was an important outdoor market where all sorts of merchandise, not all of it obtained legitimately, changed hands. Ready money was scarce and Father remembered often hearing a monger, with a sale in his hands but no cash in the till, walking along the rows ofcounters, calling, "Who's got change for a shilling?" The community was so closely knit that the search was never in vain. Dickens was then depicting the district as no one else Community 5 has before or since. His books used to appear as serial instal­ ments in periodicals sold on Paternoster Row, and the boys of Father's street would chip in their halfpennies and pennies to make up the price of a copy each week. Then they would pass the issue around, and as their hands weren't any too clean it finally became unreadable and had to be destroyed because it was so dirty. No other writer has caught up his readers in the way Dickens did: Father told me that when Little Nell died in The Old Curiosity Shop his whole street went into mourning. When I visited London as a man, I came to know that fascinating end of the city quite well. Jews from the whole world, gathered in the Whitechapel and Petticoat Lane dis­ tricts, had developed a way of life that was almost exclusively their own. Costermongers and barrow men from there sold wares, trinkets and clothing and such, on all the streets of London, and many a prominent man made his start in this fashion. The Jews of the East End had a particular taste for theatricals. People like Charlie Chaplin furnished the troupes for London's famous music halls. I used to love going to hear them, and still remember well the old songs like Wot che'r? all the neighbours cried Oo yer gonna meet, Bill? Do yer own the street, Bill? Lawf? I thought I shud 'ave died. Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road. That was a favourite of the Pearlies, who sold papers and knick-knacks on the streets in clothes covered with hundreds of mother-of-pearl buttons so that they glittered in the sunshine. I remember many of the Salvation Army songs that also used to be sung in the East End, such as "We'll Roll the Old Chariot Along" or They call me Happy Eliza And I'm Converted Jane, We were two bad ones in our time But we'll never go wrong again. 6 In Return Oh, won't you come and join us, It's to be understood, We are Salvation Sisters And we're bound to do you good. Once I visited No. 32 Hill Street, the tall old house where my father grew up. It stood on a short and narrow street near the East India Docks. From his bedroom window on the top floor, Father could look over wharves lined with sailing ships from the four corners of the earth, and see the sailors and longshoremen unload rich cargoes of furs and spices and fill the ships again with British manufactures. It was an exciting view for a young boy, and I suppose it was inevitable that one day he should walk down to the Thames to seek passage aboard one of the vessels. His older brother Mark had already emi­ grated to Montreal. Father decided also to go to America where, it was well known in London in I 844, the streets were paved with gold. Father was sixteen years of age and a stout, hearty lad, so it was an easy matter for him to find a job as cabin boy on a freighter about to sail to New York. He packed his bags, said good-bye to the family and set out for the New World. In the ships of those days the trip took four or five weeks. For the first week father was so sick he couldn't carry out his duties, but once he had gained his sea legs he proved such a good worker that when the vessel docked in New York the captain gave him two shillings and sixpence, the first money Father had ever earned, and offered to take him back to London on the same terms. Father politely refused. From the docks at Bowling Green he began walking up Broadway, looking around curiously as he strode along, eyes open for new sights and ears alert to the strange American accents. It didn't take long to discover that the paving was not golden, but he saw something eventually which proved almost as valuable: over a small shop hung the sign LEVY, TAILOR Community 7 He interviewed the owner, explaining that he had just got off a ship and needed a job. Mr. Levy looked Father over carefully, and because he knew the Samuels had a good reputation in London, offered to hire him for two dollars a week. "I can't live on that," Father replied-he knew that much about America already-but when Mr. Levy explained that with the job came a room above the shop and meals with the family, Father accepted cheerfully. For the next seven years, he supported himself as best he could in America. At some point he made his way upstate in New York to Syracuse and worked out of there as a peddler, tramping the countryside selling drygoods from a pack on his back. With his warm nature and the instincts of a born sales­ man, he quickly made good friends wherever he went, and was always a welcome visitor. The people who bought his ribbons and needles and other merchandise were more than just customers. Many, knowing his religion, would make sure that there was no sign of pork in their houses when he arrived, so that he would be sure to take a meal with them. Years later, when he returned to the Syracuse area as a successful Toronto merchant, farmers who had known him literally killed the fatted calf in his honour. He was so successful that by the time he was twenty-three years old he was able to buy a horse and wagon, which allowed him to increase his stock of goods and branch into new lines such as razors, scissors and bolts of cloth. The wagon must have been a great physical relief as well, for Father was not a big man and his pack was heavy. Among Father's friends in Syracuse were the Henocksburgs, a German-Jewish family who often asked him to dinner on Friday evening, the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath. One Friday evening in 1850 he met at their table a charming young lady who had arrived in the United States from Germany only a few weeks previously. Kate Seckelman had been born and raised in the town of Sulzbach, in the hilly green land of Bavaria. She was a cousin by marriage ofthe Seligmans, another 8 In Return Jewish family from Sulzbach who had immigrated to New York and by this time had already laid the foundation of a prosperous banking house which continues on Wall Street to this day. From them she must have got the impression that New York was a city of wealth and promise, for at the age of twenty-five, I suppose partly because she was not yet married, she had decided to leave Germany and make what was in those days quite an expedition. After landing in New York and visiting there for a few weeks she had gone on to Syracuse to visit the Henocksburgs, to whom she was also related. She had not yet learned any English, and Father spoke no German, but they had Hebrew in common and managed to converse in it. Both were good-looking people and they fell in love at first sight. At the end of dinner, Father pared an apple and presented it to her, which in those days was considered a declaration of love. Two weeks later they were married in the synagogue at Syracuse. Father's first present to Mother after their engagement was an English-German and German-English dictionary. With its help, they studied each other's language so assiduously that they were soon able to speak freely in either tongue. Once he was married, Father gave up the peddler's trade which would have kept him away from home much of the time and opened a drygoods shop in Syracuse itsel£ Soon Mother and he had two children, Emmanuel and Esther. The store was providing a decent enough living so that they might never have left the United States had not Father's brother Mark been writing continually from Montreal, urging Father to join him in Canada and in the fur trade. In 1855, Father reluctantly agreed and sold his shop. The railway line north from Syracuse stopped on the south shore of the St. Lawrence River, from which passengers had to cross to Montreal Island by ferry. Boarding the small boat that March day, Mother uneasily observed a thick mist hovering over their future home-a bad omen, she was sure. Events Community 9 proved her correct. From the first, their stay in Montreal was unhappy. Neither of my parents spoke French, which was the predominant tongue, and Father disliked his work in the evil­ smelling fur business. After they had been only three months in the city, during a very hot summer cholera broke out. The two children sickened and died and Mother was very nearly lost. Once the crisis was past, their doctor advised Father most strongly to find a new home for Mother in which she might regain her strength. Though he knew little enough about it, Father decided to move to Toronto, where at least everyone spoke English. The Grand Trunk Railway was not yet completed westward from Montreal but Father bought tickets as far as the end of the line at Prescott, a third of the way to Toronto. Train travel was a great improvement over the alternative of hot, bumpy, dusty stagecoaches which would certainly have been too much for an invalid woman. From Prescott they took a steamer to Toronto, a pleasant trip up the lake past busy timber ports and a most happy introduction to their new home. In contrast to Montreal, Toronto seemed at first sight to be especially welcoming them. Even today, the city is beautiful from the water: think how it must have appeared on that July day in 1855 ! From the boat, my parents could see both the Humber and Don rivers, with the small city clustered on the plain between them. The steamer rounded Gibraltar Point and passed old Fort York through the Western Gap; there was no eastern passage in those days, and the present Island was just a shady treed peninsula jutting out in a protective arm about the bay. To the north, beyond the houses on Bloor Street, rose green hills. The city was surrounded by a pine forest in which, my parents told me years later, people used to wander on the fine days as in a park. Within the community itself, church steeples broke the skyline. To the east stood one of Toronto's earliest landmarks, the Gooderham and Worts windmill on the harbour. IO In Return Toronto was already a wealthy community of about forty thousand persons, the provincial capital, with paved and gas-lit main streets, several impressive public buildings and a pervasive atmosphere of commercial hustle and bustle. English visitors remarked that many stores could compare in quality of goods with those of Regent Street in London. This fortune was founded on the surrounding countryside: settlers from Lake Ontario to Lake Simcoe sent their produce to Toronto for sale and bought from her the necessities and luxuries of life. As the railroad construction boom of the r85o's extended Toronto's dominance farther and farther into the countryside, the old Family Compact aristocracy was being displaced in power by wholesale merchants and importers who were expanding with their market. It was a situation tailor-made for an industrious and aggressive salesman like my Father. As an Orthodox Jew, however, Father could not even con­ sider opening a business until he had answered two questions: Was there a Jewish community in Toronto? Was there a synagogue? As soon as his and Mother's baggage was unloaded from the steamer and they were comfortably settled in a hotel near St. Lawrence Hall, Father began investigating. He found a handful of Jewish families already living in Toronto. Among them were the Rossin Brothers, Marcus and Samuel, who in a year's time would give up their jewellery business to open the fabulous Rossin House, long Toronto's biggest and best hotel, the residence of the Prince of Wales when he visited in r 860. There was Isaac Davis, a Russian-born drygoods merchant who still talked of the exciting days he had witnessed as a boy when Moscow was evacuated in the face of Napoleon's troops, and Morris and Isaac Lumley, English brothers who operated a very successful clothing store. Toronto's first permanent Jewish settler, Judah G. Joseph, was running an optician's shop where he made and repaired spectacles and sold mathematical instru­ ments, jewellery, watches and silverware. There was a suffi­ ciently large Jewish community, in fact, for Mr. Joseph and Community II Abraham Nordheimer, a Bavarian immigrant who sold sheet music and pianos on King Street, to have purchased land for a Jewish burial ground on Pape Avenue as trustees of the Hebrew Congregation ofToronto. But there was no synagogue and there were no weekly services. It seems that earlier attempts to begin a synagogue had failed. Now, at twenty-eight years of age, my father was to call a meeting of these well-established Toronto merchants to discuss the question again. At Father's instigation, they hired a man from New York to oversee the killing of animals in the Orthodox fashion, to conduct services on Friday nights, Saturdays and holidays, to teach, and to perform other necessary offices. The first meeting place was in a third-floor room over Love's Drug Store at the corner of Yonge and Richmond streets; I still remember climbing the stairs to attend services there as a small boy. This first Toronto Hebrew Congregation was the beginning of Holy Blossom Temple. Despite his youth, Father was soon elected president of the congregation, and held that office almost continuously until he died. Now Father could devote himself exclusively to business. Walking about the town one morning, he saw workmen digging a ditch the length of fashionable King Street and upon inquiry found they were laying mains for gas lights. Here was an opportunity for business: he went immediately to the Consumers' Gas Company offices in Toronto Street. What were the prospects, Father asked there, for a new business, importing gas chandeliers and lighting brackets to be installed in homes the gas system was just reaching? To his delight, W. H. Pearson, later manager of the company, encouraged the plan. Father wrote his brother Mark and urged him to come to Toronto. After meeting Mr. Pearson, Uncle Mark was equally enthusiastic. The two brothers decided from the first that they would go into the wholesale trade. As Orthodox Jews they could not work on Saturdays, the busiest day for retail merchants. By 12 In Return dealing only with other businessmen, however, they would be able to conduct all the trade they needed during the week, and perhaps do a bit of quiet office work on Sundays. In time to come this strict adherence to the Jewish Sabbath not only would do no harm to the business, but would win my father respect from Jews and Christians alike, for in those days people took their religion seriously and were impressed by its observ­ ance. When Uncle Mark joined Father he brought more than his own business ability. He brought an acquaintance with a wealthy Jewish family in Liverpool who he thought might help to finance the firm in its first few years. Their name was Hoffnung, which in German means Hope, and they were hope to us indeed. Uncle Mark managed to convince them that if our family was nothing else, it was at least honest and would repay every cent it borrowed. The Hoffnungs opened their hearts to us. Over the years they were to lend my Father and Uncle the sum of fifty thousand pounds, without security and at very low interest. The Hoffnungs never lost a penny by their generosity. 0000000000

2. Business

FROM THE EARLY YEARS of the firm, four letter-books fortunately have been preserved. Here, in the large and generous hand of my father and the neat writing of my two cousins, lies a portion of the correspondence of the company's first three decades. The letters and statements were copied in the old­ fashioned way: clerks pressed them between the moistened pages of the letter-books, so that some of the ink transferred to the tissue copy sheets. Now the ink has turned brown with age. There are a few blotted pages, and more that have faded, and much of the writing is only barely legible. But with perse­ verance, and at the risk of some eyestrain, it is possible to glean from them an intimate picture of commercial life in Canada in the mid-nineteenth century, and in particular ofthe company of M. & L. Samuel, commission and wholesale merchants in metal and hardware. Father found premises in what used to be known as the Coffin Block, a peculiarly shaped building which fitted into the narrow triangle of land where Front and Wellington meet at 14 In Return Church Street. The ominous name derived only from the building's outline, which did resemble a casket's, for the site itself was one of the best in Toronto. Wellington, Front and lower Yonge streets were the wholesale centre of the city. Father's neighbours in the Coffin Block included many com­ mission merchants and freight agents, as well as the French consul, W. J. MacDonell, and Weller's Stage Coach Line, which was well known for fast service to Kingston and western Ontario. Father rented a ground floor office, with use of part of the basement to store metal and heavy hardware. Only a block to the east stood the St. Lawrence Hall, Toronto's social centre and largest market, newly rebuilt after the great fire of I 849. Within its cupola hung the city bell, and in the arcade beneath were lined stalls selling second-hand books, sweets and toys. Beyond them were the butchers-and what a display of meat they used to mount! Especially during holiday seasons, when I was a boy there would always be great fat carcasses of beef and lamb, huge deer, the occasional black bear, wild turkeys, grouse, partridge, and piles of poultry and rabbits. In the market square outside, farmers parked their carts laden with dairy produce and vegetables. Above the market, the long, high concert hall offered attrac­ tions of a very different sort. When Mother and Father arrived in Toronto, people were still talking about the two nights that Jenny Lind sang there, and at other times it was the scene of lectures and dances, panoramas, horticultural exhibitions and bazaars. My parents went there often. One of my earliest memories is of a green plaster bust of Milton which stood in our home for many years. They had won it as first prize at a costume ball in St. Lawrence Hall, he going as John Bull, she as Germania. From Father's office it was only another block north to the fashionable retail district on King Street. Many of the stores, even when I knew them, still supplemented their ordinary lettered signs with symbols like the circular saw which hung Business 15 outside Haworth' s hardware store. The most famous was the Golden Lion of Robert Walker & Co., the pre-eminent dry­ goods store of its time, which stood on the present site of the King Edward Hotel. King Street also had the city's leading chemists,]. C. Beckett & Co., the Nordheimer music store and its competitor, Haycroft, Small and Addison, and the retail grocery shop of Fulton, Michie & Co., which was notable for its stock of wines. The Michies lived in Wellington Place. I taught their two daughters to ride a bicycle on the nickel­ plated, high-wheeled model which Father ordered from Liver­ pool for my sixteenth birthday, before the smaller "safety" bicycles were introduced. Yonge Street north of King was a second-class retail district. At the comer of Queen Street, where both Toronto's giant department stores had their beginning, there was only an unimportant building which was unoccupied when Father first saw it. This was pretty well the limit of commercial Toronto in I 85 5. Mother and Father rented a respectable house on Frederick Street, south of King Street and east of Jarvis. The best homes were along Bay Street, and while new streets were being added every year, most of what we now consider central Toronto was but sparsely settled. The University of Toronto campus was woodland and Bloor Street, the city's northern boundary, had only occasional houses along it. The same was true of Dundas Street, which had been planned to quarter the province in company with Yonge Street. Spadina Avenue, cut out as a handsome approach to the Baldwin homestead, had attracted few other settlers. West of it stood separate villages which today are only names: Parkdale, Brockton, Davenport, Carlton and Lambton. Toronto had come a long way from a pioneer settlement. Osgoode Hall and the churches testified to the wealth of the Establishment, as did fine homes like Caer-Howell, but nearly all the big houses belonged to members of the gentry, the pro­ fessional classes and a few wealthy merchants. There was almost 16 In Return no industry. Peter Freeland had a soap and candle works at the foot of Yonge Street, and there were small establishments turning out stoves and simple farm machinery, and bricks, but there was only one important factory in the city. That was the furniture plant of Jacques and Hay. For the most part goods and raw materials-if not the finished article itself-had to be shipped here from England. This was particularly true in the metal field. Canada had a few finishing plants in simple lines such as nails, which by this time were being cut automatically from sheets but still had to be headed by hand, but she could not begin to meet the needs of her blacksmiths and hardware merchants. The bars of iron and hoops of wire, sheets, tinplates, ingots and finished hardware had to be imported by wholesalers. Most of these came from England, which was the workshop of the world. And it was here that our company had its first great advantage for, instead of depending on overseas agents, we had our own English office. It was run for the first quarter-century by Uncle Mark, who settled in Liverpool after securing the Hoffnungs' financial support. His three sons, my cousins, grew up and joined the firm there. The youngest, Eleazer, was swept overboard in a Bay of Biscay storm while travelling to Spain before I ever knew him. Jacob and Emmanuel I came to know very well, though they were fifteen or twenty years older than I, and eventually we were partners together. Both Jack and Manny came to Toronto while I was a child, partly to round out their knowledge of the business and partly because the Canadian office was much busier than the English one and their services here were therefore more valuable. Much ofthe correspondence in the old letter-books consists of their reports to Uncle Mark, written in the stiff business formality of the last century with only an occasional leavening of family familiarity. This division of responsibility, with Father acting primarily as a salesman in Toronto and Uncle Mark as a buyer in Liver- Business 17 pool, was the secret of our strength. In the first place, the Liverpool office in Rumford Place was a purchasing and ship­ ping agency. Other importers had either to depend for stock on representatives of British manufacturers who visited Canada once or twice a year, or to appoint a British commission house to act for them. As a result of Uncle Mark's intimate knowledge and proximity to the overseas markets, we could almost always get goods at the best prices and conditions. This was so great an assistance that even when an overseas salesman visited the Toronto office with a tempting offer, he was advised that we purchased only through Liverpool. Through personal representations Uncle Mark would often speed the delivery of items to our advantage, since the English mills even then were notoriously slow in making deliveries. By being on the spot, he could make better arrangements for freight and insurance, and frequently could obtain cheaper loans than we in Toronto. The difference in interest rates was sometimes staggering: Jack wrote from Toronto in one letter, "It is really wonderful to think that in England people will let their money out for a little over I! per cent per annum while here they could get eight per cent and good security." Further­ more, by purchasing overseas we kept our sources of supply secret from the Toronto office staff, who could not therefore carry any information of value with them if they happened to leave our employ. Uncle Mark's role was so important that even when Manny was getting married in Montreal, Jack wrote to their father to stay in Liverpool, "as we anticipate our spring orders will be extremely large and your absence from home in the present unsettled state of the markets might make a serious difference in our purchases." While the bulk of our goods travelled from England to Canada, the Toronto office did carry on an irregular export trade and here again our Liverpool office was invaluable. This is how the eastbound movement began. When Father started business, there was little ready cash in Canada, and a dollar 18 In Return seemed almost as big as a cartwheel. As a result, business often was on a semi-barter basis. A country blacksmith who bought two hundred dollars worth of metal for the season would pay for only part of it, perhaps fifty dollars or one hundred dollars, in cash. To guarantee that he would get something in settle­ ment of the rest, Father would have to agree to take goods which could stand shipment, such as hides, tallow and beeswax. He would not accept perishables such as eggs, because there was no refrigeration in those days. When he had collected enough of this payment in kind to make a shipment, he would send it to Uncle Mark to sell in Liverpool or on the Continent. Uncle Mark would use the money to buy more metal goods for sale in Canada. Many years after this barter system had died out, one of our leading salesmen called on the McClary Manufacturing Company of London, Ontario, manufacturers of stoves and tinware, and John McClary told him about just such a deal he had made with Father in beaver pelts for tin­ plate. Mr. McClary laughed at the memory because he had made the better bargain. His skins were far from prime whereas our goods were grade A quality. Father once agreed to export Ontario crude oil to England shortly after the first wells were drilled at Petrolia in 1862. On the trial run, the oil was shipped in elm casks. Somehow during the two-week trip to Liverpool, perhaps from the heat of the steamer's engines, the wooden casks swelled and burst. To put it finely, the oil arrived in bulk. By the time the ship was cleaned up, M. & L. Samuel had left the oil business for good. This eastbound export trade eventually assumed large pro­ portions, though never so great as our imports in metal. By the time I became a partner in I 899, we were carrying on an extensive business in Canadian wooden goods, such as basswood boards for the manufacture of pianos, and maple skewers, which we shipped abroad in carload lots as hickory skewers grew scarce and expensive. We also sold water closet seats in some quantity. One time Jack, who by then was in charge of Business 19 the English office, cabled me an order for twelve hundred seats. I made quite a hit in shipping them. The shipping charge on bulky items was based on volume, forty cubic feet costing the same as a long ton of 2240 pounds. Because of the shape of the seats, I knew there would be a lot of waste space in the packing cases, and conceived the plan of filling the interstices with Canadian oats. The grain crossed the ocean virtually free of charge, and of course found a ready market on arrival in England. Valuable as the English office was, the firm had an even more priceless asset in its reputation for honesty and fair dealing. This began with my Father, and I have tried to maintain it. Father made friends easily and always had the respect of the commu­ nity. He used to tell me, ''A thousand friends are better than a single enemy." No one ever questioned his integrity. Some firms used to deliver seventeen or eighteen hundredweight of iron and charge for a ton, but old customers have told me they never checked a single order from us because Father's weight was always fair. The result was that when accidents did occur, our customers were forgiving. On one occasion, for example, the letter-books show that we delivered a shipment of pipe which was far below the quality of our sample. The purchasing company accepted the goods at a discount, although as Jack reported to Liverpool at the time, "They declared that if any other firm but ourselves had imported them, they would not have taken them at any price." Father once taught me a very personal lesson in honesty I have never forgotten. Though he did not go to the office on Saturdays, after the Sabbath had ended at nightfall he would read the mail which had been delivered to our house by a Christian employee. As a treat, I would be allowed to open the envelopes and clip the stamps. One evening there was a ten­ cent piece in one of the letters and I asked if I might have it. "Out of the question," Father replied. The money had to be credited to the customer's account, because if the man had been 20 In Return ten cents short in paying his bill, Father would certainly have noted that. W. Kerr Tate, our cashier for many years, told me of a similar experience. Father was walking along Toronto Street one day when he heard the clink of gold on the pavement in front of the old post office. The man ahead appeared to have dropped a coin, but when Father caught up to him, the man denied carrying any change. Father checked, and beneath a pavement grill did find two gold sovereigns, which were still in common use. At the office, he asked Mr. Tate to advertise for the owner. When no one claimed the gold, Father told the cashier to credit the money to the firm. Mr. Tate was surprised. ''I found the money during business hours,'' Father explained, "so it must go into the profits and be divided with my brother in Liverpool. I am sure that if Mark found two gold sovereigns during business hours, he would do exactly the same." That was their standard. Father had no use for anyone who wasn't as honest as he. Hyman Miller, one of our best commercial travellers, ap­ proached him one Sunday morning when Father was at the office to meet the Jewish salesmen. I was still a boy but had gone downtown with Father and stayed to hear the conversa­ tion that followed. Miller began by producing his Post Office savings book to show that he had a substantial deposit. He suggested that with this money he should be allowed to buy a partnership in the firm and open a branch in Winnipeg, where he had been working as our agent. Father was not interested. "You' re already one of the highest paid travellers out of Toronto. Why aren't you satisfied with that?" he told Miller. "Besides," he added, "I have enough partners already. I don't want another." Miller threatened to go into business with someone else. When Father reminded him that his contract with our firm still had another year to run, Miller declared he would break it. Father was shocked and disgusted. "I'm so glad I didn't even consider making you a partner," he told Miller. Business 21 "I wouldn't have a thing to do with a man who would break his word." Hyman Miller did go to Winnipeg, and with Fred and Morton Morse established the biggest wholesale hardware business west of Ontario. By living up to his standards of honesty, Father had lost both a superior employee and a chance to extend the business. Yet so far as I know, he never regretted it. Just how greatly my father was respected by Toronto busi­ nessmen I learned a few years after his death. While I was out walking one afternoon a sudden rainstorm forced me to shelter on the porch of a private house at Pembroke and Gerrard streets. When the storm showed no signs of stopping, the maid finally asked me in. Within a few minutes, the owner of the house came hurrying downstairs. "I'm told you're a Samuel," he said. "Are you any relation to Lewis Samuel?" "I'm only his son," I replied. "Well then, let me shake your hand. Your father was the most decent man I ever met, and I'm sorry to hear he has gone to his long rest." My new acquaintance was a partner in the wholesale grocery firm of Smith and Keighley, which had been in financial difficulties some years earlier. He told me of meeting Father at the time. "I was utterly despondent, but your father patted me on the back and told me to be of good cheer. 'It's true enough,' he said to me, 'that you have had to settle for seventy cents on the dollar, but just wait and see. You'll soon be making enough again to pay all your creditors in full.' I felt so much better after seeing him and, you know, he was absolutely right. We did make up every cent we owed." The story of Smith and Keighley was not unusual at a time when business was far more precarious than it is today. Every sale Father made to a country tinsmith or plumber was a gamble that the man would be able to pay within the regular four- or six-month term. Often he couldn't. The old letter-books are dotted with references to customers who had failed; in some 22 In Return cases, they were still struggling to repay debts, and then our firm turned business their way whenever possible. Bankruptcy was so common that the company which managed to make full reparations sometimes was favoured over one which had never failed. Father once was appointed assignee of a metal company in Hamilton with which we had dealings. He got them a fair settlement and they continued operations. Several years later, when I was city traveller for our firm, a customer announced that he was transferring his account to that same Hamilton company; they had finally paid off one hundred cents on the dollar and deserved the business in way of appre­ ciation. I was astonished. "We never failed," I told him indignantly. "We always paid our own way. In fact, it was my father who got the settlement to keep this firm in business. Why should we suffer now?" At first he wouldn't listen, but as a result of Manny's friendship with his family he did eventually take the fair course and retained the account with us. M. &. L. Samuel always met its obligations, but in the early years it was sometimes a close thing. When accounts were slow coming in, Father would have all he could do to raise the cash for regular drafts to Liverpool. Still, the times generally were good for business and in the long run the company prospered. It certainly began in an auspicious year. Three new railway lines opened from Toronto in 1855: the Great Western to Hamilton, the Grand Trunk to Montreal, leading to the Maritimes and New York; and the Northern to Georgian Bay, where lake steamers sailed regularly to the new centre of Chicago. New York and Chicago already had outgrown their immediate territories and, along with closer American com­ munities, were reaching out for supplies from southern Ontario. Trade across the border was at a high point, fostered by the Reciprocity Treaty signed the year before between Canada and the United States. In Europe the Crimean War was under way, Business 23 and while Canada sent her soldiers across the ocean, she also sent her grain for profit. Money flowed from England to finance railway construction. Along with the new rail com­ munications, the growth of banking and the establishment of the Toronto Stock Exchange, 1855 saw the beginning of Toronto's commercial rivalry with Montreal. All together, our first two years of business were in a time of unprecedented boom. The next few were more difficult. Hundreds of other com­ panies crashed in the depression of I 8 57, and for a time beggars were common on Toronto streets. Somehow my father and uncle survived, perhaps with further help from the Hoffnungs, until misfortune across the border brought good times back to Canada. The Civil War in the United States doubled the price of wheat at St. Lawrence Market to two dollars a bushel. The effect was felt right down to the corner grocery and put M. & L. Samuel on its feet. With the economic stimulus of Confederation and post-war prosperity in the United States, Ontario enjoyed good times until the mid-seventies. From the gas chandeliers with which our business began, we rapidly expanded into the many facets of the metal and hard­ ware trade. English mills sent Father pig iron and pig lead, ingots of copper and tin, sheets of zinc and brass, iron pipes, and coils of wire to be made into rivets and telegraph lines. We imported packages of Canada plates for stovepiping, and for those who could afford it we had the beautiful blue burnished metal known as Russia iron. Heavy chemicals have always been connected with the metal business and before long they were coming too, big five hundredweight drums of soda ash and caustic soda for the soap manufacturers and paper mills. Father and Uncle Mark never limited themselves to metals if there was a chance for business elsewhere. They dealt in casks of bristles from Poland for the brush makers, barrels oflinseed oil, glass from Belgium, tinfoil and horse hair. From Italy they 24 In Return shipped slabs of marble for the building trade, though Father at times despaired of this line, particularly after one fine ship­ ment was stained in transit by olive oil which had leaked from casks stored in the same hold. I have found reference in the letter-books to diamond shipments worth two thousand dollars. Father seemed to have an innate love for the stones, and carried them around in a special waistcoat pocket in order to enjoy them as much as possible while they were in his pos­ session. I still have in my house a delicate pair of scales he used to weigh the diamonds. The annual statement for I 87 4 shows that at the end of the year merchandise on hand totalled $130,000, not a small sum in those days. Including investments in banks and a few allied manufacturing companies, the capital of the firm amounted to $78,000. The year had been an excellent one, with a profit of $23,300. An international wholesale business dealing in heavy mer­ chandise faced serious transportation problems eighty and one hundred years ago. The Montreal shipping season closed in October, forcing Father to stockpile goods in advance for winter delivery or use the more expensive New York route. Even then, there was no guarantee that business would con­ tinue outside the cities. Snow drifts often blocked the country roads, stranding our salesmen so that they could not meet their customers, bringing retail business to a near halt, and holding up payments. "I was again disappointed in getting notes," Father wrote Uncle Mark in the winter of 1869. "The roads are blocked with snow. Consequently the parties are not receiving goods and we can't get the notes till we get the goods.... I fully expect P.G. [Please God] by Monday to make you remittance and I expect P.G. from then on to send you money more regularly." On another occasion, he complained, "The country roads are in a very bad state and we have had scarcely any shipping all winter." Even when spring did come, the resulting glut of Business 25 goods could prove as disastrous as the previous shortage. Manny wrote one May: "About one hundred and fifty sailers have been stuck in the ice and are only now coming up the river. It will be impossible to get the shipments of caustic soda off or make deliveries before June, and it is more than probable that some stuff will be thrown back on the hands of importers." Luckily, Manny had protected the firm that time by buying and borrowing enough caustic soda to meet our early commit­ ments and have plenty of time to deliver the rest. Mail across the Atlantic regularly took ten days to two weeks and not infrequently longer, a serious consideration since Canadian prices for imported goods had to reflect current British costs. In 1866, the Atlantic cable at last provided instantaneous communication between Europe and North America. For a time, the firm apparently was reticent in using it; in 1869 Father wrote Uncle Mark to justify the cost of cabling a particular order. Within a year, however, they had devised a private cable code. This was to save money more than for secrecy; early cable tolls were set at one pound per word, and the code drastically reduced the length of messages. (The single word "Alimony" in the 1870 code meant "Have sold two hundred barrels at a fair price.'') I had thought the Atlantic cable would be a great boon to the business, but Father cor­ rected me when I mentioned it to him some years afterwards. It destroyed much of the advantage of our private informa­ tion from Liverpool, since even the smallest importer was able to benefit from the cabled market reports which soon began to appear every day in the newspapers. Despite the difficulties of transportation, the business rapidly spread beyond Toronto. By the time I was born, there were customers throughout southwestern Ontario, including Bramp­ ton, Brantford, Paris, Stratford, St. Mary's, and London, and Father was making business trips to Chicago. When Manitoba opened up some years later, Hyman Miller visited the Winni­ peg area for us, returning via Duluth and stopping at ports all 26 In Return down the lakes. In 1881 the trip took him fifty-two days. He did nearly $18,000 worth of business at an expense of only $360 besides his salary. We had a representative in Charlottetown, P.E.I., and an office in Montreal which for several years was managed by my cousin Manny. A few years after I was born, M. & L. Samuel expanded its premises and lines of merchandise by taking over a bankrupt wholesale hardware firm, Hall and Company. With this move, we entered into the shelf hardware business, a troublesome and complicated field in which we had to deal with a host of items from brass kettles and baking tins to carpenters' tools and firearms. The Hall stock included toys, for I remember Father sending a box of them home to me as a gift. The new offices and warehouse were at s8 Yonge Street, on the west side between King and Melinda streets. They were of special importance to me for it was there, at fourteen years of age and as the most humble member of the staff, that I entered the family firm. I never left it. iittttt~~ttt 3. Boyhood ii~iiii~ii~~

THE CORNER of Shuter and Dalhousie streets, two short blocks west ofJarvis Street, today is not one of the pleasant parts of downtown Toronto, but in 1867, when I was born there at Number 64 Shuter Street, it was a fine location. Our house, the end ofa brick row, was one ofthe most modern in Toronto: its well had been boarded over and indoor piping connected us with the city waterworks. In those days, even turning on the tap could spell adventure to a youngster. There was no filter on the water intake in Lake Ontario, so that every now and then a small £sh would be sucked up and appear suddenly from our faucet! I was the youngest of seven children born to my parents after they moved to Toronto. Florence was the oldest, and after her at two-year intervals came Amelia, Matilda, Samuel, Henrietta, Rosetta and mysel£ Judging by the many caustic comments preserved in letters from Manny to his father, we must have been a noisy family, but for the most part we were a happy one. When I was six years old my only brother died, a terrible In Return blow from which my parents never really recovered. Anxious that he receive a good Jewish education, better than Toronto's first transient Hebrew teachers could provide, they had sent him to a boarding school in New York shortly after his twelfth birthday. For a couple ofmonths, to Father's pride and pleasure, Samuel proved an assiduous scholar. Then, in December, he went out into the cold too soon after taking a bath, caught a chill, developed diphtheria, and soon fell victim to that terrible child killer. He is buried in New York with a simple Hebrew gravestone. My childhood homes were rented because Father preferred to invest his money in the business rather than in land, and so we moved every few years, never very far but usually each time to a better location. When I was three the family took a house on Church Street, opposite the Metropolitan Church which was then under construction. The roof of that great structure, designed to seat 2,500 persons at one time, was already up, but work was still proceeding on the interior. I took full advantage of this exciting neighbour. Once, while exploring, I fell four or five feet from the board strip along which labourers pushed their wheelbarrows. It was quite a way for a three-year-old, but luckily to a bed of sand. Two workmen promptly jumped to the rescue and delivered me, more fright­ ened than hurt, to my nursemaid, who must have had quite a fright hersel£ Uncle Mark was visiting our house and as a palliative called on me to choose between two coins he produced from his pocket, a large copper penny and a small silver five-cent piece. At that point I made one of my poorest bargains: I chose the penny because it was bigger. The therapy was excellent none the less, and within minutes I was hurrying my nurse down Church Street to the grocery store where Peter MacDonald sold a special currant-studded cake. Some years after this we moved to Number 158 Jarvis Street, a handsome three-storey house which Father rented Boyhood 29 from Captain Charles Perry for $400 a year. While not yet Toronto's finest residential avenue, as it was to become, Jarvis Street still had much to offer. On sunny winter Sundays, crowds would gather along its length to watch amateur sports­ men race their fur-decked sleighs, drawn by spirited little horses, from Bloor Street to St. Lawrence Market. The way of life was very primitive by today's standards, but Captain Perry's house did offer some advantages. While it had no indoor water closet, we were at least protected on winter journeys to the back by a series of sheds stretching from the kitchen. It also had a coal furnace and radiators in a day when most houses were heated by stoves. Gas was used for lighting, but Mother still cooked and baked on a coal-fired stove. Like most German women of her generation, she was an excellent cook and we never wanted for variety or quantity in meals. On Friday afternoons she often made me a special turnover, for as the youngest child and the only boy after Samuel's death, I had at least my share of treats. Of course she kept an absolutely Orthodox kitchen. I have always observed the Jewish dietary laws which I learned then, and this likely is one of the reasons for my long life. The kitchen was supplied from a backyard vegetable plot. The north side of the lot was devoted to a croquet lawn and summer house, and the back, or west end, to stables. Since we had neither horses nor carriage at home, I had the use of the shed for an early hobby and my first venture into business­ raising chickens. My introduction to this line came quite by accident, during a summer outing with Father to Small's Pond near the Wood­ bine. While there we visited Mr. Rossiter, a brush maker to whom the firm sold bristles, and were immensely taken by his poultry. Pigeons and rabbits, favourites of my friends as pets, had never attracted me, but as soon as I saw those large white Brahmas I pleaded with Father to buy me some. To my delight he set me up with a rooster and two hens. For several days I 30 In Return cared tenderly for my new pets, fed them and watered them, and proudly showed them off to as many friends as could be lured to the new roost. Then one of the hens disappeared. For days I was disconsolate, but I should have known better. Early one morning Father knocked on my door to report that the hen finally had returned, and with her had brought eight little chickens. While I was fretting, she had been hatching the eggs overhead in a crevice in the shed roo£ I was now well established in the poultry business in a small way, and from then on few eggs failed to find their way to our family table. Mother always paid for them; she would laugh and say I was a born salesman, that if ever I had to sell collar buttons on a street corner I would do twice as well as any other boy. Occasionally the chickens had to be sacrificed. I remember seeing Father, the night before my sister Amelia was married, standing in the dining room carving my fine birds for the wedding breakfast. Much of the egg money went for feed to supplement the chickens' basic diet of household scraps, but a big bag of mixed grain cost only ten cents at Mackintosh's Store on Queen Street East, so that there was always some profit left. In addition to the pride and pleasure these handsome pets afforded, they also kept me in spending money. Not that money was always necessary to have a good time. There were many close friends my own age with whom I enjoyed games like marbles and shinny. The latter was the forerunner of hockey, played in the summer with a ball and sticks which we cut from the trees. However, Toronto was already growing to a point where many sports and entertain­ ments required at least a small expenditure. I had learned to skate at the open Mutual Street rink, which was so close that we would put on our skates at home and glide to it along the icy roads. Within a few years, the Granite Rink was established on upper Church Street, with a roof over it to keep off snow. It then became a big event to pay the fifteen or twenty-five Boyhood 31 cent admission charge and skate there on Saturday nights to the band. In the summer we joined the crowd at the Toronto Lacrosse Grounds, particularly on those Saturday afternoons when the Montreal Athletic Club or Montreal Shamrocks had come up to play against our own Torontos. Lacrosse was the national game, borrowed from the Indians and played by members of the city's most prominent families. Sam Hughes (later Sir Sam) was one of the best and one of the toughest players; two popular team-mates were Ross Mackenzie, the goal-keeper, and Fred Garvin. Frequently enthusiasm would carry the gentlemen amateurs beyond the strict rules and the game would become rather rough, but this was probably as great a reason as any for its popularity. There were rarely empty seats at the big matches. Thanks to my chickens and later to my job, I nearly always had the ten or fifteen cents admission price, but many other boys of my age contented themselves with knot­ holes in the old wooden fence. Usually my friends and I would choose seats in the bleachers in front of the grandstand, where we could be closest to the field; these seats had no covering, though, and when sudden summer squalls came up, we would have to scurry under the benches to stay dry. On weekends when the Torontos played in Montreal, the railway ran special excursion trains to the game. By the time I was sixteen I was travelling on them, leaving Toronto Friday night and returning Sunday, and rejoicing in the special treat of meeting face-to­ face in the Pullman car with the stars whose various playing styles I knew so well from the bleachers. Everyone in those summers of the seventies and eighties gloried in Ned Hanlan, Toronto's own king of scullers. He was the city's hero. Lacrosse was the national game, but the great rivalry in it was only with Montreal; to row against Ned Hanlan athletes came to Toronto Bay from the United States and even from Great Britain, and inevitably they lost. The regatta on the Bay was the biggest event of the summer. 32 In Return Though there was never any doubt about races in which Hanlan' s special shell appeared, other contests were very close and large amounts were wagered. Ned Hanlan was Canada's first international competitor in a major sport, undisputed champion of the world, and we lionized him. Once at Henley he was so far ahead of the opposition that he could afford to play the clown, lying in his shell to rest every now and then, and still arrive three lengths ahead at the finish line. Millions of people heard of Toronto for the first time because of his prowess. At home, his admirers built him a $20,000 house and the city gave him a free lease of land on Toronto Island. I sometimes wonder how many of today's young people have any idea how Hanlan' s Point came by its name. By this time the Island was already a very popular resort. There was no need to go to Lake Simcoe and Georgian Bay to get away from the city; thousands of people would take the Bouquet or the Princess of Wales across the bay on sunny week­ ends, and spend a day strolling along the Island's promenades or patronizing its hotel and baths. I used to go over frequently myself, but for a very different reason. At twelve years of age, I was an inveterate fisherman. Whenever I had saved the twenty-five or fifty cents to hire a rowboat for the day, I would cross to the Island and, anchored in one of its lagoons, lure the perch and sunfish which were common in the area. I rarely failed to catch a goodly number. Afterwards I would walk up Yonge Street from the ferry docks and newsboys would stop me at the street corners to ask, "Where did you get those beauties?" At home I would go into the backyard to clean the catch with a big knife for that evening's dinner. Sometimes I fished in Small's Pond, a lovely small water named after the owner of most of the surrounding area. On those occasions, instead of a ferry trip across the bay, I would have the adventure of a horsecar ride from the Don River Bridge eastward along Kingston Road. The stubby wooden cars, pulled by a single horse, had seats inside for only sixteen Boyhood 33 passengers, but there were additional benches on the roo£ Usually I would climb up there after paying the five-cent fare and peer down upon the busy street and sidewalk as we trudged along at the horsecars' legal maximum of six miles per hour. The first time I saw Small's Pond was on a national holiday, May 24th or July 1st. I remember the day well because there was great cheering in the distance and Father, who had taken me on the excursion, explained that it came from Woodbine Racetrack. Later in the afternoon we visited the course together. Many years afterwards, as a member of the Ontario Jockey Club, I would attend other thrilling races, more closely con­ tested by better horses and for larger purses, but none would be more exciting than this first one. As much as the spectacle of the race itself, I suppose it was the people who fascinated me, for Woodbine was popular with the carriage trade and Father introduced me to many friends. One red-bearded gentleman who shook my hand as if I were considerably more than twelve years old was James Beaty, then the mayor of Toronto. Ours was a close and happy family which shared many outings together. On fine Sunday mornings Father would take a team from the firm's stables and hitch them, fresh from their Saturday rest, to one of the carriages. Our favourite vehicle was the four-wheeled T-cart which got its name from its floor plan: one bench across the front, and another two back to back lengthwise behind. Father would drive. Mother would sit with him on the front seat, and as the youngest I would usually have the place of honour between them. With my sisters chattering in the back, we would set out into the countryside within a ten-mile radius of Toronto. Sometimes it was to visit one of Father's customers who had invited us to call at his country home in Mimico or on the Humber. Other times it was to a popular resort such as the Dutch Inn, a favourite public house run by a Hollander a few miles out on the Don-and-Danforth Road, where beer was served but the atmosphere was respect­ able enough for any family excursion. Most days we had dinner on the way. Because it would not be kosher we avoided 34 In Return ordering meat, but feasted on spring salmon and whitefish freshly caught from Lake Ontario. By the time we turned back it would be getting dark and often I would fall asleep snuggled up against Mother. I have dim recollections still of being carried into the house after such a ride, and of Mother washing the road dust from my shins before putting me to bed. On other Sundays we would board the steamers at the lake­ front to go to Niagara and sometimes up the Niagara River to Lewiston. The City of Toronto and its rival on the Niagara route in the late seventies, the Chicora, were side-wheelers with two funnels and wide promenade decks on which the family could sun itself and enjoy the fresh lake air. Other boats took us to Rochester or Hamilton, or to nearby points such as the mouth of the Humber River to the west of the city and the Scarborough Bluffs a few miles to the east. Sometimes I would go only with my oldest sister. Florence and I spent so much time on the lake in the summer that we would buy season tickets for the boats to save money. When the annual Exhibi­ tion was under way a special line offered pleasant service from the foot of Yonge Street to a pier at Dufferin Street in the midst of the fair grounds. The first Canadian National Exhibition was opened on a wonderful September day when I was eleven years old. The Governor-General, the Marquis of Lorne, paid a state visit to Toronto for the occasion with his wife, Princess Louise. For weeks beforehand everyone was busy building ceremonial arches, erecting illuminations and in general sprucing up, as much for the country customers who would be attracted by the fair as for the vice-regal visitors. Our firm, which was meeting stiff competition, cleaned and varnished its offices, laid a new carpet in the private room and had a wagon built specially in time for the opening-all to prove we were really the leaders of the trade. Outside the offices Father hung a huge coat of arms, flanked by light globes, and between the upper windows twin initials L surmounted by a boar's head, the Governor­ General's family crest, and the Princess's royal crown. The Boyhood 35 effect, we were quite certain, was enough to convert a Fenian at a glance. The whole downtown area, alight with similar displays, seemed like a scene from the Arabian Nights. For us boys, the Exhibition was always an event of the great­ est importance. Each fall when it came around my over­ indulgent parents would give me a dollar to spend, which would last through the day until I wearily found my way home after the evening grandstand show. The Exhibition then had much more the atmosphere of a country fair, with an emphasis on the horse ring and livestock competitions. The midway, with its performing monkeys and fancy shows, was one of the original and most colourful features, but it was considerably cruder than today. There were fewer fancy rides and many more tests of strength among its stalls, although I rarely tried to ring the bell or show off in other ways because the standard prize was a big cigar and I have never smoked. We were much more impressed by what seemed wonderful scientific achievements. I well remember riding in Toronto's first electric railway, a special line into the fair grounds from Strachan Avenue. Electric streetcars were still several years away; this was a miniature train with a small engine and, for the passengers, ordinary open flat cars with benches bolted on to them. There were no siderails on the cars, but fortunately the train never travelled quickly enough to be dangerous. My friends and I would lunch at the Exhibition in a con­ fectioner's tent, where a twenty-five cent ticket entitled us to a main course and dessert. Once, after finishing my pie and cleaning my plate, I still felt rather empty and, hoping to get a second piece, called to the waitress, "I'd like my pie now." To my great embarrassment, she took only a second to turn around and, in a stentorian voice that seemed to shake the tent and certainly brought amazed looks to the faces of the farmers about me, she shouted angrily, "You've had your pie!" You can be sure I wished the earth would open up and swallow me on that occasion. Not long ago I had a considerably different sort of meal at a 36 In Return formal luncheon given by the directors of the Canadian National Exhibition. In the course of proceedings, the chairman was kind enough to refer to my long record of attendance at these annual events, and in return I told them this story of my first visit to the fair. I had gone with my cousin Jack, who as the elder had charge of our mutual funds. We were busy inspecting the exhibits in the main building-a wonderful Crystal Palace structure with roof and walls of glass-when .a balloon ascension was announced and everyone rushed out to watch. In the melee Jack and I were separated. I never did find him in the crowd. With­ out a cent in my pocket, my glorious day at the Exhibition came to an abrupt end, for the only way to get home was to walk the three miles to Captain Perry's house on Jarvis Street. I had made my way up to King Street and was proceeding eastwards when I saw, parked in front of a public house, a heavy two-wheeled cart of the kind used for carrying cord­ wood, empty at this time. I waited until the driver appeared and asked for a lift into town. He replied by lifting me easily onto the high seat. His horse was a big draft animal which plodded along scarcely faster than I could have walked, but what he lacked in speed was made up by his steadiness and the unexpected adventure. It was much more comfortable and exciting to look over the hurrying Saturday afternoon crowds on the sidewalks than to be part of them. The horse and driver, it was soon evident, were dose associates and understood each other thoroughly; in fact, they looked so much alike that I was tempted to consider them brothers. The week's work was over and the driver was celebrating. The pub at which I had met him was not his first of the afternoon, nor his last. Several times he stopped to regale himself at the taverns with which King Street abounded. At one point, instead of tying up, he asked me to hold the reins, but the big horse, probably nervous at the strange hands, kept backing up so that I was very glad to Boyhood 37 be relieved. Our stop at King and Spadina streets, where a public house still stands, was much more pleasant; I was invited inside the tavern and treated to a glass of non-alcoholic raspberry vinegar while the carter had his beer. Both drinks cost the same, five cents. Meanwhile the horse refreshed him­ self outside at the hollowed log which served as a water-trough. Between the horse's natural slowness and our frequent stops, it took quite some time to reach Jarvis Street. When we finally did arrive, as I clambered down on one side, so did the carter on the other. He bade me farewell and said he hoped his son would turn out to be as fine a boy as I was. Then, to my amazement, he threw. his arms around the horse and kissed the animal soundly on the head. Later I realized that indulgence along the way may have had something to do with this display of affection, but at the time the closeness between animal and man seemed more illuminating than any marvel at the Exhi­ bition. One Saturday in the spring of 1880, while walking home from the Synagogue with Father after the morning service. I suddenly felt dizzy and at our house fell unconscious. The doctor who was called said it was sunstroke, though it was not a terribly hot day, and advised me from then on to wear spectacles. He also urged me to keep out of smoky rooms to protect my eyesight. The result is that I have never smoked, though Father and later my friends often urged me to join them in a good cigar after dinner. I am sure this childhood illness prolonged my life; without it I would surely have picked up the tobacco habit which has ruined the health ofso many others. As soon as I had recovered enough to travel, my parents arranged for me to spend a few weeks in the country with a customer by the name of Hoskin, a tinsmith in Strathroy, nineteen miles west of London, Ontario. The day I was to leave Father took me down to the Union Station, bought a return ticket and found me a seat: then I was on my own for the first time in a train. Nothing untoward happened on that In Return pleasant journey. As the locomotive made its way into the Strathroy station, the Hoskins all were waiting to greet me. They proved to be the kindest possible people, and since they had a son my own age the holiday passed most pleasantly. However, my second journey alone, made while I still was staying with them, was not quite so smooth. I had planned an excursion to Detroit, going to Sarnia by rail and from there by boat along the international border. On the river I quickly made friends with the Captain of the steamer Idlewild and joined him in the pilot room on the topmost deck. The scenery from there was lovely, particularly when we en­ tered the island-studded passage in Lake St. Clair. Then the purser asked for tickets. No matter how I searched, mine couldn't be found. Luckily the Captain vouched for me and even offered to carry me back to Sarnia next day free of charge, leaving me enough money for a new rail ticket back to Strathroy. Even at twelve years of age I had learned to make friends in the right quarters. By this time I also had learned the far more important lesson from my parents of public service. Mother and Father were both active in community affairs, not only within the Jewish community. As the foremost member of the Hebrew Con­ gregation, one of Toronto's most successful Jewish business­ men, and a partner in the largest firm of its kind in Canada, Father was greatly in demand. One of his chief interests was the Toronto Mechanics Institute, which today would be called an adult education centre. "Mechanics" had a far broader meaning than it does now, and in fact the Institute offered lectures, classes and discussions, musical evenings and scientific displays for the enlightenment and entertainment of business­ men and manufacturers as well as for the working class. Father chaired many of these meetings. Along with other leading businessmen of all religions he served on the Institute' s Board for many years, and in I 877 was elected President. Mother also was active in the Institute, although I believe not to so great an extent. Boyhood 39 The heart of the Institute was its fme library, housed in the building which stood until recently at the corner of Church and Adelaide streets. Father and I often would stop there on Saturday mornings on the way home from synagogue, and there I would look through the Illustrated London News of the day and borrow exciting adventure books such as Robinson Crusoe. There was a prominent sign displayed in the library, "No Talking, No Dogs, No Spitting," rules strictly enforced by Mr. Davy, the chief librarian. When I first went there the library bookshelves were open for browsing, but Father was chairman of a committee which recommended a new policy of closed shelves, so that members would be able to obtain volumes only from a central circulation desk. The change was suggested to end several abuses, including theft, undue handling of books, and-according to the report in one of the old letter-books-the fact that "many strangers are brought into the Library by Lady members, thereby crowding the room to the annoyance of other members." The Institute fmally passed out of existence in 1883, when it made over all its property and assets to the City on establishment of the Toronto Public Library system. Father was one of three trustees of the Canadian Order of Odd Fellows and an officer in the local Jewish fraternal lodge. His chief interest, however, was always the Toronto Hebrew Congregation, which in time adopted the name of Holy Blossom. From its inception until his own death, Father was its leading figure and for twenty years its President. As such, his was the frequently recurring problem of finding, for a salary of four hundred dollars to seven hundred dollars a year, a man qualified to lead the services, act as ritual slaughterer of livestock and poultry, perform circumcisions, and teach the children Hebrew. At that wage, even with free lodging and additional fees for special services, it is no wonder that incum­ bents changed frequently and that few managed to satisfy on all counts! Father recognized this, at least unofficially. On a character reference for one man who had left under some 40 In Return suspicion of dishonest accounting, he added a private postscript: "If the officers' suspicions are correct, the circumstances might offer some slight extenuation, as his salary and perquisites, I do not think, were such as would maintain a man in his capacity respectably. They should not altogether stand in the way of his obtaining employment, as I consider him to be a good Chas an [conductor of the service], perhaps a better one than a collector.'' Father was a generous man who did what he could to help his fellows. Even when hard pressed for money himself he usually managed to find some to lend to a friend in greater need, or to the congregation. Often he helped in other ways, on one occasion locating a young Scottish Jew who had failed to write home to Glasgow since immigrating to Toronto, on another occasion petitioning the local Member of Parliament for a more amenable position in the new Customs House for a friend whose health was suffering in his work at the Post Office. For many years, Father sent to New York each spring on behalf of many families in the congregation to order Matzos, the unleavened bread of Passover, until it began to be baked in Toronto in 1879. Father was a vigilant defender ofJudaism and of civil rights. More than once he wrote angrily to newspaper editors follow­ ing the appearance of articles derogatory to the Jews. Today anti-semitism is rare in the Canadian press, but there is still bigotry and prejudice in private life, so that one of his letters, written when I was a youngster, continues to be appropriate. The Telegram had printed a "Police Report" under the head­ line, 'Jews in Trouble." Father complained to John Ross Robertson, its publisher, that the reporter was typical of people who, from ignorance apparently, entertaining views which would have done credit to a member of the Spanish inquisition, take the opportunity of bring­ ing Jews prominently before the public when they are unfortunately associated with anything that can be viewed as derogatory to their religious Boyhood 41 belief. The term Jew refers to a man's creed, not his nationality. Therefore, on the same principle you could report that a certain individual, a Roman Catholic, Methodist, or Episcopalian, was arrested &c, or that the absconder was of a certain religious faith, and the forger ditto. These sort of things would be anything but agreeable to members of the sect to which your notice would particularly direct the public's attention. How would it appear if the press had taken the trouble to inform us that the Presbyterian directors of the Glasgow Bank 'who erected churches and wrecked homes' were sentenced to so many months' imprisonment? Father, who had been the moving spirit in establishing Toronto's first Jewish congregation, led the campaign to build its first proper synagogue. The rented room over the drug store at Richmond and Yonge streets served the Toronto Hebrew congregation for twenty years, but by 1874 the mem­ bership was sufficiently large and prosperous to consider maintaining a full building. Father served as spokesman in the negotiations which preceded this important step. From his letter-books, it appears he twice tried to buy old churches whose congregations were planning to move, one on Louisa and the other on Temperance streets, but neither offer was accepted. In 1875 the Hebrew congregation bought a vacant lot on Richmond Street near Victoria, a block away from their original quarters. Mother and Father both worked very hard to raise the money to build a new home. It was largely through their personal efforts that by the time the building was opened donations amounted to $6,000, of which one-quarter came from Toronto Christians and the rest from Jews as far away as New York and New England. When the building was con­ secrated on January 20, 1876, Father was President of the congregation. His name leads the short list of trustees engraved at the time on a marble tablet which stands today in the present Holy Blossom Temple, the congregation's fourth and most magnificent home. Mother was as active in the congregation as Father. Like him, she visited business offices downtown to solicit funds for the building campaign. She also was a founding member of the 42 In Return Ladies' Benevolent Fund which raised money to help poor Jews, newly arrived from Europe, to find their footing in Toronto. This organization did particularly valuable work in the 188o's when thousands of Jews arrived in Canada fleeing from persecution in eastern Europe, many without a cent to their names. With parents like mine, it is easy to understand why I never had difficulty in obeying the Biblical injunction to "Honour thy father and thy mother." And, as the Commandment promised, my days have been long indeed upon the land. ~~~~~~~~~~ 4. Schooling

~~~~~~~~~~

I LEARNED my A.B.C.'s from Mrs. Howe. She was an Irish woman who conducted a small private school in her home on the north side of Carlton Street, just east of Yonge, to which my sisters also went. Mr. Howe either was dead or had deserted her, for she supported both her mother, a Mrs. Prentice who lived with her, and her own son Charlie, who had been born deaf and dumb. There were then few respectable occupations for a woman other than school teaching and so, five days a week, Mrs. Howe struggled to drum into us the elements of reading, writing and arithmetic. Mrs. Prentice helped as much as she could, but was far from a favourite; age had made her impatient, and sometimes she treated us very hardly. Fortu­ nately, all our time was not spent at work. After an hour of teaching with primer and slate, Mrs. Howe would send us out to exercise muscles and lungs in the big yard behind her house. Carlton Street in those days was little better than a sand pile. Many days we would stop on our way to school to watch men and horses struggling to free a heavy cart sunk to its wheel-hubs 44 In Return in the sand. Usually extra teams would have to be called before the job was done. These conditions continued for many years before paved streets became anything like common in Toronto; I was about fourteen when they first paved Yonge Street, Toronto's principal roadway, with six-inch cedar blocks set on their ends in the road bed. The blocks did not provide a very smooth ride, but they were a great improvement over mud and even macadam. Sidewalks were not much better than the roads. They consisted of rough planks, four to six inches wide, raised on posts above the mud and knitted together as closely as possible. Small bridges spanned the deep gutters which ran between the sidewalks and the road. Toronto's first concrete pavement, which we called "granolithic," created quite a sen­ sation when it was laid alongside the Rossin House at King and York streets about 1886. My parents were anxious to give me the best education they could. As soon as I was old enough, not quite eleven years in age, they removed me from Mrs. Howe's tuition and sent me to Upper Canada College, which had been founded fifty years before along the lines of English institutions such as Eton and Harrow. I attended classes in the original buildings on King Street West, where the Royal Alexandra Theatre now stands. The buildings were unimposing square structures of plain red brick, but the grounds were spacious with wide green lawns and playing fields. The cross-roads on which the College stood offered great variety: across King Street from us stood the Lieutenant-Governor's Parisian-style official residence, and on the other side of Simcoe Street were a church and a tavern. We called these four corners Education, Legislation, Salvation and Damnation. Despite its wonderful reputation and Father's hopes, Upper Canada College taught me nothing but misery. I never fitted in. At ten I was the youngest and the smallest, always at the foot of the file in drill. I was a day boy in a predominantly boarding school, a future businessman in a college which Schooling 45 trained its students for the professions. Nothing at Mrs. Howe's had prepared me for the emphasis on Latin and Greek, so that most of the classes were completely over my head. I could not even eat in College. Since it was too far to go home, even by public transportation, Father arranged for me to have my noon meal at George Coleman's confectionery store on King Street a few blocks east of the College. As a side-line to his cakes and breads, Mr. Coleman had a restaurant with small tables where I would partake each day of a twist of bread with honey or homemade preserve, followed by a cup of tea or coffee. It was not a very big lunch, but it kept me until I returned home. The headmaster of Upper Canada College was G. R. R. Cockburn. He was a learned man with a brilliant name, but his ideas on education were unreservedly severe. The school excelled in discipline: every classroom had a corner reserved for the canes with which misdemeanours were punished. The masters for the most part had come from England or Scotland and were well versed in the techniques of caning; besides, they must have been chosen as much for muscular prowess as for pedagogy. One of them was such a bully that the boys decided to teach him a lesson and gave him the trouncing of his life, but that didn't stop the others. They seemed especially to eajoy attacking the younger boys, to such an extent that I feared the frequent beatings would disfigure my hands. I remember one master whose class followed immediately upon physical train­ ing. After changing from slippers to boots outside the gym­ nasium, we would have to race to his classroom to be on time. I was usually among the last. One day, when we had lined up in order of arrival, I was number twenty-eight in a class of thirty. "Well, Samuel," the master said to me, "you're two better than last time, so today I'll let you off a licking." It was very good of him, I am sure. That is the sort of tuition I received at Upper Canada College. There was one brute by the name of Brock who was particularly hard on me. Father finally approached him in his In Return own classroom at the top of the College. "You've been lacerating my boy, but you've beaten him for the last time," Father told Brock. "I'm not a fighting man, but if you touch my boy again, with any strength I have in my body I'll lay a load onto you." Father was not a big man physically, but he meant every word. The other boys cheered him as he left, and Brock never did lay a hand on me again. At the end of my second year at Upper Canada College, Father took me away. I am told the College has changed a great deal since then. I bear it no ill-will, and as an immediate neighbour was happy to contribute to its capital funds cam­ paign when the main building had to be replaced not long ago. The next September, Father enrolled me at the old Toronto Model School in St. James' s Square. It was like moving from hell to heaven. The Model School was a Provincial institution, an adjunct to the Normal School which the late Egerton Ryer­ son had established for the training of teachers. Both Normal and Model School, as well as the Ontario School of Art and the Provincial Museum, occupied a single building which since the last war has housed the Ryerson Institute of Tech­ nology. The grounds surrounding it formed a park with a fine lawn and a great variety of trees, a favourite Saturday afternoon resort for promenades. From the outset, Model School held many advantages over the College. Most of its pupils, like myself, came from Toronto and planned to enter business rather than the professions, so that I made many friends among them. It was less than a ten­ minute walk from my home, which by then was at Number 8 Wilton Crescent, a fashionable block since incorporated into Dundas Street. The fees were considerably lower than those of Upper Canada College, but to me the greatest change was in the teachers. The masters at the Model School had the happy faculty of making even the driest subjects, such as grammar and arith­ metic, so attractive that learning was a pleasure. For the first Schooling 47 time I went to classes with a smile on my face, not, as Shake­ speare portrays in the Seven Ages of Man, "creeping like snail unwillingly to school." Our drawing master was William Armstrong, an artist of some note whose work I have in my collection in the Canadiana Gallery. My form masters were S. M. Dorland and Dr. John L. Davidson. Mr. Dorland taught the third form, which I entered immediately and found myself to my delight among boys of my own age and size. At last I was able to compete on my own level both scholastically and athletically, and I managed to give as well as I got in both areas. Once a boy, Luke was his name,jabbed me from behind with a pin while we were lining up before class. I jumped and the master, without inquiring into causes, gave me a black mark. I was so enraged that I challenged Luke to a fight after school. That afternoon we walked together out of the schoolyard and down Bond Street to a lane which the boys of Model School commonly used for bouts. As word had got around of my challenge, we were surrounded by many classmates. The fight did not last long. I was still so angry that I struck Luke at the first opportunity with every ounce of strength I had. It gave him a bloody nose and he cried, and that ended the fight. The other boys were disappointed to see it over so quickly, but I doubt that Luke ever played his tricks again. He had jabbed me in the bottom, and I jabbed him in the nose. John L. Davidson taught me in my second year at Model School. At the time he was a student himself in the Faculty of Medicine at the University of Toronto, and since he was a very popular master we all pulled as hard as we could for him when his examinations began. One morning in the spring word got around that the final Medical results had been announced. Before class began that day one of the boys went up to the blackboard and wrote on it, "Have you passed?" A minute later Dr. Davidson came in. He looked at the ques­ tion, picked up the chalk and silently wrote in big letters, "YEs." We all cheered and he smiled broadly. In Return No boy ever had finer teachers than Dr. Davidson or Mr. Dorland. I don't think I've forgotten a thing they taught me. Several years after leaving school, I had occasion to visit Dr. Davidson professionally. My wife had slipped on the icy pavement near our house and had broken her arm, and while our family doctor had set it, I wanted to have his work checked by my old master. After he had declared the break well and truly set, I said to Dr. Davidson, "You know, Doctor, I can still repeat everything you ever taught me.'' Without a moment's hesitation, just as if he were back in the classroom instead of in his office on Charles Street, he said, "Samuel! Stand up! Name the bones of the arm!" "Scapula and clavicle," I began, "humerus, radius, ulna, carpals, metacarpals, pha­ langes." Dr. Davidson was obviously pleased and surprised at my memory, but all he said was, "Samuel! Up to the head of the class!" Of all the classes at Model School the most exciting to me were those in the history and geography of Canada. As the story of our great Dominion unfolded, it seemed no novel or tale of imaginary adventure could surpass it for interest, that in this case at least truth indeed was stranger than fiction. Avidly I read of the deeds of explorers and coureurs de bois. On trips to Niagara I inspected the site of the Battle of Queenston Heights, where on that "dark October day" in 1812 General Brock lost his life but saved Canada from American invasion. Confederation had barely passed into history when I was at school, so that by far the most important date of all to us was September 13, 1759, the day of the Plains of Abraham, the death of our national hero General James Wolfe and the conquest of Quebec. From this dramatic episode in the Seven Years' War I first learned to recognize the workings of cause and effect in human history, how great results may arise from comparatively insignificant events. Relatively few men fought on either the French or the British sides in that battle. By today's standards Schooling 49 it was little more than a skirmish. Yet it was the decisive victory which made Canada British instead of French; this freed the American colonies from fear of French or Indian attack from the north; no longer requiring British military support against their traditional enemies, they were en­ couraged to rebel; the United States was born; Canada itself was attacked by the Revolutionary forces, but hurled them back and in the long run gained tremendously from the influx of United Empire Loyalists who chose exile to live under the Crown. The thread could be continued to the present day. Wolfe's story was romantic and intriguing by itself, but set in the light of subsequent events it completely captured my imagination. As a schoolboy I began asking myself how I could possibly do something to resurrect the history of Canada, to portray the lives and activity of all those brave people who had risked their lives to create our nation. At the time all I could do was wonder. Meanwhile, I concentrated on school work. Besides my regular classes, like Jewish boys everywhere I was expected to study Hebrew after school hours so that I would be able to read the prayers and Bible and follow the services in the synagogue. In particular I had to prepare for the ceremony of Bar Mitzvah, when on my thirteenth birthday I would appear for the first time before the congregation as a man. My Hebrew teacher was Mr. Mintz. He was a white-bearded old man who lived with his wife in a little cottage by the Rich­ mond Street Synagogue, of which he was caretaker. I used to visit him two or three times a week, and inevitably we would stray from lessons while he reminisced about his earlier years in Europe. He seemed to have lived in every capital of signi­ ficance. I would mention Berlin, for example, and yes, he had spent five years there, and more time in London, and other years in Warsaw and Paris. One day I added up all the time he claimed to have spent in his travels and it came to two hundred years. He was an old man, but not that old! He was 50 In Return an excellent teacher, however, and my Bar Mitzvah came ofi most successfully. The ceremony was followed by a reception at home where Father presented me with a set of prayer books imported specially from England, which I have to this day. Mrs. Mintz was at least as old as her husband. They never had very much money and, as they were always kind and made me welcome, I thought it would be nice to do something to thank her. With the help of other members of the congrega­ tion I raised five or ten dollars for this purpose, and bought Mrs. Mintz a lovely Indian shawl. I guess this could be called my first experience in philanthropy. I also found time to engage in the favourite schoolboy hobby of stamp collecting. My first specimens, awarded for good behaviour, came from Germany on letters from Mother's parents. Others arrived on business letters, which I was allowed to open for Father on Saturday evenings after the Sabbath had ended. Since many of these letters had been posted abroad or came by registered mail. I quickly built up a collection of foreign and high value stamps. Before long, I was spending hours trading duplicates with classmates to fill up the blank spaces in my Stanley Gibbons album. My particular compan­ ion in this activity was Frank Peard, a boy my own age who lived a few blocks away on Gerrard Street. We went so far as to form a partnership and have pamphlets printed describing ourselves as foreign stamp dealers, in hopes of going into business in a big way. Philately was not yet a big business, but there was enough interest and there were sufficient varieties in circulation for small businessmen to begin selling stamps as a profitable side­ line. Frank and I patronized a store on King Street, just opposite the present site of the Albany Club, which displayed foolscap sheets of stamps in its window. On one visit, Frank happened to notice the name and address of the man who supplied the sheets and suggested that we open communication with him in order to exchange Canadian for foreign specimens without a Schooling 51 middleman. The wholesaler, a Mr. W. H. Wrap, lived in New York State. At dinner that night I told my parents about our plan to do business with the man in "Sikaroosh," New York. For a moment there was a puzzled silence and then laughter. Finally Father explained that the strange name was Syracuse, where he and Mother had met and married in 1850. This incident had a sequel. Mother announced shortly afterwards that she was going to Syracuse to visit her cousins the Henocksburgs, and that since it was the summer vacation period I was to go along. There wasn't a more appealing city in North America to my mind. Mr. Wrap, after responding warmly to our original letter, had been sending Frank and me frequent packets of stamps, but long-distance dealings were hardly the same as the opportunity which now presented itself for face-to-face trade. Mother and I had barely reached our destination before I was asking anxiously about my friend. My hosts knew him and patronized the drug store which was his main business, to which they directed me early the next morning. Mr. Wrap proved even kinder than I had expected; in fact, as it was a very hot day, he opened his cases of ice­ cream and soda water and urged me to partake thereof to my limit, free of charge. You may be sure that I took full advantage of his offer. Few stamps got traded on that occasion, but later we had several rewarding business sessions. Unlike most of my school friends, I kept up my collection until I was well into my teens, and even as a man made occa­ sional purchases in London and Toronto to round out a series. For many years after that, the stamps lay in their original album, rarely seen except by occasional visitors. Then one day, to my great surprise, my younger son, Lieutenant-Colonel Norman Samuel, informed me of his new and passionate interest in philately. I happily turned over my collection to his care. Many of the stamps which I had purchased for a few pennies in my childhood, we found, now are extremely valu­ able, and most of the ones I had missed Norman has managed 52 In Return to buy since taking charge, even flying to England when necessary in order to bid at a particularly important auction. Since Norman has no children, we have agreed that this extremely valuable and interesting collection will, during his lifetime or upon his death, go to the Canadiana Gallery where it properly belongs, for stamps are as much a part of our history as paintings and maps. Collecting stamps, besides the enjoyment it gave, un­ doubtedly was a great help to my education. It inspired an interest in geography beyond that of the classroom, and from it I also learned much about history. There is no way, for example, that a boy can get a better understanding of Canada's gradual change from sterling to decimal currency than to mount side-by-side in his album the Canadian "Beaver" stamps of 1851 and 1859, which are identical in all respects but their value. One sold for threepence, the other for five cents. My youthful experience with stamps proved valuable in all subsequent collecting, no matter what the later interest hap­ pened to be. When people ask me how to build up a collection of Canadiana or of paintings, I always tell them, "Start as a boy with a stamp album. That's what I did." OOHOrOilOHDilOO 5. Training 0(}0(}(}(}00(}(}

AFTER ONLY TWO YEARS at the Model School, when I was still not yet fifteen years old, my formal education came to an end. Father's ambitions for me along these lines had been high, but only to a point; neither he nor Mother had had much schooling themselves and they felt I needed no more. Besides, Father was getting on in years, well over fifty of them, and was anxious that his only son should be able to follow in his footsteps in the business. As a result, when my last schoolboy summer ended in 1881, I started to work. It has been one of my greatest sorrows ever since that I was not allowed to remain with my chums to finish the final form at Model School, and perhaps go on to the University ofToronto as most ofthem did. However, I have done my best to carry on learning with the help of friends and books and travel, and have managed to win one or two honorary degrees of my own. Even in the bitterest disappointment over leaving school, I was greatly attracted by the business and very pleased to earn money. The firm by this time had spread out from the single 54 In Return building which Father had taken over from Hall and Company, and now occupied both Number 56 and Number 58 Yonge Street and a warehouse behind them at Number 9 Jordan Street. The offices were in the Yonge Street buildings on the ground floor, private rooms for the partners on the right of a central corridor, and across from them the public office for the travellers and bookkeepers. Above that were floors devoted to samples, hardware on the second and tinware and plumbing goods on the third. From the top floor on Yonge Street the shipping clerks could cross to the Jordan Street warehouse by way of an enclosed bridge over a teamsters' lane, which ran between the two buildings from Wellington to Melinda streets. The upper floors on Jordan Street were occupied by our line of lamps and lamp-ware, almost entirely in the care of one family named Lyons whose sons, as soon as they were old enough, followed their father into the business. The lower storeys held bins and racks of heavy hardware such as nails and windowglass. The warehouse had an early hand-operated elevator. The first floor was raised about four feet above the ground level so that the goods could be loaded quickly onto high horse-drawn carts for delivery to retail stores throughout Toronto, or to the Union Station to be sent to outside centres. I was paid $2.2 5 a week to begin with, which was divided three ways: one-third to my parents for board, one-third for clothing, and the remaining seventy-five cents to spend. For the first two years my particular duty was to be at work at seven o'clock every morning with the keys to the warehouse, open the building for the porters, and stay with them until the office staff arrived. This meant getting up at six o'clock, gulping a cup of tea or coffee before leaving the house and then return­ ing home for a hasty breakfast between eight o'clock and nine, when my regular day's work began. For this extra duty I received fifty cents a week, plus car fare, but that was hardly adequate compensation. It was a wretchedly unpleasant task, Sigmund Samuel: Portrait by Archibald Barnes Kate Samuel; Lewis Samuel Edwin Whitefield: Toronto, Canada West. Lithographed by Endicott & Co., 1854

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Model ofJacques Cartier's ship, Grande Her111i11e. A fragment of wood from Cartier's original ship is shown in front of the base Joseph Highmore: Major-General James Wolfe Leah Iv1ay Saniuel Training SS particularly on cold winter mornings when I would have to rise in the dark and dress by gas-light before going out, shivering, to wait for the horse-car along Queen Street. The cars were little warmer than the outside air. The passenger section at least was enclosed with glass windows (the driver stood on an exposed platform at the front) but even inside there was no stove; the only amenities were a single oil lamp for light and some straw scattered about the floor into which we would burrow our feet to keep them warm. As the horse-car bumped along, with frequent jerky stops to receive new passengers or to let others off, we would huddle together on the wooden benches watching our breath form in the air. There was no relief from the cold when I did reach work, for the big warehouse was heated only by iron stoves which had to be newly fired every morning. It is small wonder that I developed a catarrh which took long to disappear. During the day I was part of the warehouse staff. My first job was to keep the hardware samples on the display shelves free of dust. Then I began helping to pack orders, and eventu­ ally to make up shipments by mysel£ It would have been dull work if Father had been in any other line, but few boys would not have been thrilled at the chance to spend their days handling carpenter's tools of all kinds, not to speak of jack-knives, revolvers, rifles and ammunition. Ever since, I have loved going into a hardware store to encounter the smell of tarred paper and oiled metal. And no matter how humble my tasks were, they all helped me to learn the business from the ground up. As time passed, I started going down from the warehouse to the office every afternoon at three o' dock to check invoices before they were sent out. Accounts in the shelf hardware business involved a tremendous amount of detail, for we carried hundreds of different items, and my job was to make sure that prices and discounts in every case were correct. The hardware business was supervised by Mr. Routledge, who besides his salary from us had the income from five or six In Return houses given him by his father-in-law upon marriage. Hard­ ware was a fairly profitable line, but in comparison to our heavy metal trade it involved a considerably greater quantity and variety of stock and many more men to handle it. Even in stamped tinware, which came from the United States and could be obtained at short notice, we had to keep a fairly large inventory to meet orders which required immediate delivery. I suppose that with this combination of large staff and large stocks some pilfering was inevitable, and one of my duties, particularly when I was alone with the men in the morning, was to keep an eye on them to prevent this. One particular scoundrel named Oliver was on the payroll for quite some time before he was fired for drunkenness. Only then did it come out that he had been robbing us of English cutlery and firearms, and smuggling them into the United States for sale there. He escaped across the border before the police caught him, but his final shipment was stopped at Niagara Falls: it consisted of twenty-two dozen knives, eleven revolvers and a dozen razors, all travelling under the guise of a trunk full of clothes. Thieving, I suppose, was one of the occupational hazards of the shelf hardware trade, and to a greater or less degree it never did cease until we sold out that part of the business. By the time I started to work, important changes had come in the ownership and name of the firm, leaving Father with three new partners in the place of Uncle Mark. From r 873 to r 878 in Canada had been years of terrible depression, of which the last winter, for us at least, was by far the worst. "The coming season," Father wrote Uncle Mark in November, 1878, "is going to be one of the worst financially that Canada has ever seen. The crops are very bad, and prices very low, interest very high, Banks very short of funds, failures are cropping up fast. We must husband all our resources to the last penny." As other businesses failed, including many of our customers, and profits drastically shrank, Father announced that all Training 57 employees would have to accept large reductions in their salaries. Manny took a particularly large cut, from fifteen hundred dollars to one thousand dollars. By the time pros­ perity began to return in 1879, the firm's reserves had pretty well disappeared, and to make matters worse Mr. Hoffnung, on whom we had always been able to depend when necessary, died. New capital was needed urgently. Father and Uncle Mark began to cast about. They found a source at last in the person of Alfred Benjamin, a young Englishman whose father, having made a fortune in Australia during the gold rush, had returned to England to raise his family in comfort in the Bayswater area of London. At thirty, Alfred Benjamin had already had one unsuccessful business venture in Canada, but his father was prepared to back him in another to the extent of five thousand pounds. It seemed a wonderful opportunity for our company. In addition to the immediate capital there was the attraction of the Benjamin name, since Alfred's father had a reputation for philanthropy as well as for shrewdness, and the great possibility that a successful investment in this case might bring more money from the same source. But the terms of partnership were a long time in being settled. The difficulties came from within our own family. Uncle Mark was old and in poor health. He had left Liverpool and taken a fine house in St. James's Square in Toronto with the idea of retiring from the business, and naturally wanted his sons to take over his interest. Father, on the other hand, never believed in having too many partners. He was perfectly pre­ pared for Benjamin to enter the partnership in Uncle Mark's place, but he wanted Manny and Jack to remain preferred employees only, with a fixed annual salary plus a small share in the profits. There was also an older dispute over the division of the profits. Despite all his attempts at economy, over the years Father had drawn more heavily upon the company for personal expenses than Uncle Mark because of the difference 58 In Return in their families: Father had six girls and two boys, while Uncle Mark had only three sons, two of whom eventually joined the firm. This inequality had been adjusted a few years before Uncle Mark's retirement by giving both my cousins a small portion of the profits, but memories remained of past unpleasantness. As a result, when Alfred Benjamin arrived in Toronto to investigate the business and discuss a partnership, he found that first he had to arrange a settlement between the existing members of the firm. He achieved · it through patience and determination in long sessions with Father, Uncle Mark and Manny. At one point in the process Manny wrote to Jack, who was by this time in charge of the English office and absent from all the discussions, "Papa was getting used up and I was neglecting the business and getting disgusted with the affair, but Benjamin is a perfect terror. He kept sticking to it morning, noon and night and fairly talked me to sleep for four consecu­ tive mornings at three o'clock." The agreement they finally reached divided the business into three equal portions. Father was to have one-third of the profits, Alfred Benjamin a second third and the remainder was to be divided equally between Manny and Jack, both of whom also received a small fixed salary. Uncle Mark sold his interest in the firm, lent his sons the money to buy their share of the business, and invested the rest in Toronto real estate from which he derived a satisfactory income. No one, except perhaps Alfred Benjamin, was completely satisfied with this compro­ mise. Father had two more partners than he wanted, while both my cousins felt the division should have been into four equal parts with them as full partners. This basic agreement was reached early in December, 1879, but there were many smaller points which still had to be settled. The whole deal nearly foundered when Alfred Benja­ min wanted his own name included in the firm's. My family objected most strenuously-they could see no reason why he should be allowed to advertise the Benjamin name in Canada Training 59 under our auspices when, by the agreement, he would be able to walk off after ten years and start a new company-but the final decision was as the new partner wished. The English company became M. & L. Samuel, Benjamin & Company immediately. The Canadian branch was to be M. & L. Samuel & Company for three years, and then follow suit. Finally, after weeks of discussion over these and other points, the Benjamins paid over their money and on March 2, 1880, the new partner­ ship was officially announced. Alfred Benjamin originally was to have gone to England to help Jack handle the growing business in Canadian exports, as he had absolutely no experience in the hardware and metals which we sold in Toronto. However, he started in the Toronto office and never left it until his death in 1900. In those years, he won a very great reputation for his interest in Jewish affairs and particularly those of Holy Blossom, where after Father's death he became the leading member of the congregation. Philanthropy and religion were his strongest points, though. He was never much better a businessman with us than in his first attempts, and did little to advance the interests of the firm. These interests were expanding beyond the original trade to include shares in a number of limited liability companies, which proved most profitable. Father was a director of the Electric Manufacturing Company and president of the Metallic Roofing Company, both Toronto pioneers in their respective fields. He had many other invitations to join in business ven­ tures, although not all were accepted. There was one company, for example, mentioned in the letter-books, which planned to turn out pig iron from Ottawa Valley ore, using crude petro­ leum as fuel in the smelting furnaces. Father was interested, but decided against investing because the promoters had never been successful in any previous undertaking. He did buy a half interest in sales outside North America in another promising line: an American patent lamp, designed for ships and loco­ motives, which used one-third the oil of other models, required no chimney, and could not be blown out, explode or catch 60 In Return fire. Unfortunately, there is no record whether this paragon among lamps sold as well as its makers could devise claims. The Ontario Lead and Barbed-Wire Company was the leading enterprise in which we held an interest. Mr. A. J. Somerville, a former commercial traveller who established it in 1880, had come to enlist Father's support early in the venture because of our prominence in the metal· trade. He never forgot Father's immediate decision, not only to serve as a wholesale outlet for the new company's products, but also to put up one-third of the required capital. It was a very wise move on Father's part. Mr. Somerville set up his factory on the south side of Richmond Street, near Church Street, where as a youngster I used to watch the clanking machines turn out barbed wire and lead pipe. By the end of the first year, the factory was producing two tons of wire a day, and we had got back nearly all our original investment. Mr. Somerville's business methods were not always the most scrupulous, though perhaps by the standards of those days they were acceptable. The first machine to turn out barbed wire was bought from the manufacturer in Chicago, but as soon as it was operating satisfactorily Mr. Somerville hired a pattern-maker to duplicate it. Within a few months he had three new ma­ chines, built in Toronto at one-quarter the cost of the first. He used underhand methods again when he wanted to produce sanitary traps for sale with his lead pipe. These traps were being made mechanically in New York, but nowhere in Canada. Mr. Somerville told his foreman, who also had an interest in the company, to go to New York, posing as a workman, and get a job in the rival plant. The foreman suc­ ceeded in his ruse with ease, soon mastered the comparatively simple manufacturing process, and returned to Toronto to set up a production line in his own factory. Though the connection with Mr. Somerville generally was profitable, particularly since our firm supplied most of his raw material as well as sharing in his sales, it did lead to one of Training 61 the unhappiest transactions in the history of M. & L. Samuel, Benjamin & Company. The Canadian Pacific Railway, still being built across the continent at enormous cost, required large amounts of barbed wire to keep cattle and buffalo off its three thousand miles of right-of-way. Mr. Somerville had landed the major contract to supply this commodity and, to fill it, had ordered five thousand tons of galvanized wire from us. When the shipment arrived from our German supplier, the wire was the wrong gauge. The manufacturer, the West­ falische Union of Solingen, agreed to accept responsibility provided that Father tried to sell the wire elsewhere and thus make up part of the loss. Father did manage to find a buyer in Winnipeg, but before we received payment hard times hit the Prairies and that company was forced into liquidation. Again Father and his partners turned to the Westfalische Union, this time without success. The dispute finally went to court, and as the original order had been placed by our Liverpool branch, the case had to be heard in England at considerable expense in time and travel. One day Father returned home for dinner and announced we had won. But when he considered the cost involved, even with so large a sum at stake, he couldn't feel very happy. I was only a young man when Father died unexpectedly, and so I missed a great deal of the business advice I should otherwise have gained from him. One rule which he did emphasize was never to go to court if it could be avoided honourably and economically. The amount of time and atten­ tion which even the most successful lawsuit requires of the head of a business, he said, is a factor never compensated for or even considered as part of the essential cost. This is a maxim I tried to follow all my life. 0000000000 6. Leisure

WORK DID NOT END my boyhood. It was just at this time that I became most friendly with a group of boys, all about the same age and with the same interests, in an organization which we called the Mutual Improvement Society, or M.I.S. for short. There were eleven of us, all living in the same neighbourhood and for the most part going to the Model School or to Jarvis Street Collegiate Institute, where Dr. Archibald MacMurchy was headmaster. We really were forerunners of the Boy Scouts organization. The M.I.S. originated in a theatrical group for young men and women at the Metropolitan Church, but by the time I joined, quite early in its life, it had lost both its church associa­ tion and its feminine members. We met every week at the home of one or other of the boys to plan activities and discuss such subjects as history and natural science in more or less proper Parliamentary fashion. When it was my turn to play host, Father usually listened from an adjoining room; he laughed a good deal about our proceedings, but undoubtedly he thought Leisure 63 it was good experience. I learned to speak on my feet in this way. Though the site of the meetings rotated, our headquarters and favourite rendezvous was at the home of Will and Harry Mason, 477 Jarvis Street, where we spent many pleasant summer hours playing tennis on their private court. Across the street from the Masons, in Albert Brown's home, we had a museum, well stocked with bird's eggs, rocks, fish and botanical samples. Its centrepiece was a large crow which I had shot and stuffed, following instructions in the Boy's Own Paper. We even had our own song, with words Bert Aitkens wrote to a tune from Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta Iolanthe, which was very popular just at that time. It went something like this: Oh gentlemen, this is disgusting, The Society is busting, All your ancient brains are rusting, Like a yellow dog. It was schoolboy humour, but that's what we were, and we had a fine time singing it and whistling the tune to call other members from their homes. Besides those already mentioned, the M.I.S. consisted of the Masons' cousins, Fred and Henry Mason, who lived next door to them; Dick Johnson, son of the rector of the Metropolitan Church; Arthur P. Taylor; John Garvin, brother of the famous lacrosse player; and Bronte Aitkens, Bert's younger brother whom I had first met at Upper Canada College. The Aitken boys were sons of a prominent and highly respected doctor who had an office in their home at the corner of Gerrard and Jarvis streets. On Friday evenings we would gather to plan the next afternoon's activity: usually a tramp in the country when the weather was fine, and even from time to time in the winter. Sometimes we would go to Rosedale, which was like a large natural park filled with fine old pine trees and well populated with squirrels and chipmunks. These we would try to trap by thrusting burning pine brushes into the hollow trees which were their refuge and smoking them out; if we were successful, we In Return would take the creatures home and watch spellbound as they scampered up the sides and across the roof of their wire cages without ever falling. Other times we planned longer expedi­ tions up Yonge Street to what is known now as Lawrence Park. Mrs. Mason, the mother of Will and Harry, had been a Miss Lawrence, so that we were always sure ofa welcome when we got to her family farm, and in season could depend on an invitation to sample the bounteous orchard. It was a five-mile walk either way, uphill most of the way out from Yorkville, past the old site of Montgomery's Tavern above Eglinton, up to the final dip into the valley where the farm was located. Later on, when bicycles were common, we would extend our trips to ten and even fifteen miles beyond the city limits. When autumn arrived, we organized our own football team, and in the winter held many a musical evening and debate indoors, and occasionally a dance. Our most ambitious venture was a two-week cruise of the Muskoka Lakes. Six of us set out from Muskoka Wharf (now Gravenhurst) on the first of July in a rented sailboat. When there was no breeze two or three of us could row the boat, but this was rarely necessary. We had outfitted ourselves with all the necessities of camping life, such as tents which we pitched each evening on the shore of an island, and frying pans which more often than not we filled with fresh-caught fish cooked over an open fire. I suppose we were remarkably lucky, for it was the first experience any of us had had of this kind, yet the whole trip passed without an unhappy incident. Only once did we give up the outdoor life, when we camped close to a resort hotel where the parents of one of our number were staying and we were invited by them to a proper lunch. The rest of the time we lived pretty well as we pleased, much of it in the water. When my holidays ended and I returned home, Father said I looked more like an Indian than a white man, I was so sunburnt. This introduction to Muskoka was a revela­ tion to me, and for many years afterwards I arranged to spend my vacation at one or another resort on the beautiful Lakes. Leisure The M.I.S. continued for five or six years, until we were all in our twenties and those who were more fortunate than I had graduated from the University. Even after that we continued to have reunions, occasionally at a Muskoka cottage belonging to one of the members. But, as with so many other of my relationships, I became finally the sole survivor of that group. The other boys were all Christians, mostly Methodists. I did have some close Jewish friends whom I saw frequently, but in general the association with the M.I.S. was most attractive, more congenial than confining myself only to persons of my own faith. There was never any question of prejudice, nor even of difference among us except when we occasionally joined in a religious discussion; then the others would try to convert me to their way of thinking, but I always managed to give as much as I got. My special friends were Will and Harry Mason, who were a year older and a year younger than I respectively. We hit it off immensely well from the very first time we met at a lacrosse match, and before long were going everywhere together. I spent a great deal of time at their home, just a comfortable walk from Wilton Crescent through the Horticultural Gardens and across Carlton Street. Their father was one of four brothers who were all prominent men in the city, the best known of them being J. Herbert Mason, the first Secretary-Treasurer of the Canada Permanent Building and Saving Society. Their mother was a staunch Methodist, but religion did not keep her from making me very welcome nor, on learning that I was Jewish, from going so far as to change their diet to fit mine. "You know," Harry Mason told me soon after I had visited them for the first time, "Mother has decided not to serve pork at the table any more, so that you can stop with us for dinner whenever you want.'' Years afterward, I had a chance to recognize that generous act. The Metropolitan Church had burned down, and Harry came around to our office to see if I would care to contribute to its reconstruction. To his great surprise, I immediately ordered a cheque made out for an 66 In Return amount he told me was ten times larger than he had expected. "This is for your mother," I told him. "Take it, and put up a fountain as a memorial to her in the Church." Besides our enjoyment of the outdoors and of games, I shared with the Masons and the other boys of the M.I.S. a great love of reading. I have already mentioned the visits with Father to the Mechanics Institute. My sister Matilda, who had an artistic nature, also encouraged this interest at home, par­ ticularly on Sunday afternoons, but it was the Model School that really confirmed me in this wonderful pastime. The masters believed strongly that reading had been properly placed at the head of the three R's, before writing and 'rith­ metic, and they devoted the whole of Friday afternoon to this subject. It was the highlight of the week. Not many years ago I had occasion to enter into conversation with three young ladies about ten years of age while we were all waiting to see the dentist. To my regret and amazement, I discovered they knew not a single nursery rhyme, not even a fairy tale. It was far different with us. The whole class looked forward eagerly to the stories which we would take turns reading aloud so as to train our eyes, voices and minds all at the same time. One boy by the name of Curran could usually be counted upon to choose a tale by Hans Christian Andersen and to provoke general amusement when he began with the ritual phrase, "Onee upon a time. .... " After that in the natural course came stories of the sea, which were heady material for a boy who liked travelling as much as I, and then Robinson Crusoe, whose adventures I still enjoy from time to time. I also was an avid subscriber to the Boy's Own Paper. How we all looked forward to the weekly arrival of each new issue, with its thrilling stories of courage and loyalty abroad and at school, lavishly illustrated with engrav­ ings of sailing ships and fierce savages, wild animals, campfire scenes, circuses and the hundred and one other subjects which delight boys everywhere! Sometimes there would be a coloured Leisure plate with drawings of favourite pets, or snakes, and once of the Prince of Wales, standing in all the scarlet splendour of a British field-marshal with his sailor sons by his side. "The Giant Raft" by Jules Verne, "From Powder Monkey to Admiral," "Among the Slave Dealers," "Adventures of a Boston Boy among Savages," "The New Boy," "Toby-A School Story"-the titles still bring back hundreds of exciting hours. My favourite author was W. H. G. Kingston, an Englishman with some Canadian blood, who specialized in serial stories of the sea. I devoured each instalment. But the Boy's Own Paper offered considerably more than entertainment. From its articles we learned about heraldry and entomology, conjuring tricks, gymnastics, British history and current events. One of the most valuable series to me was "Fishing Tackle and How to Make It," a guide which I followed as far as possible in preparing for my own expedi­ tions. I would buy lines and hooks and other raw materials from Allcock, Laight & Westwood, who had a shop on Wellington Street around the corner from our office and shared the same shipping lane, and then go home to tie knots and make floats from these directions. Even the adventure stories were valuable, for from them we learned much about history and geography: Kingston's stories, for example, often contained excellent descriptions of the ports where his heroes called around the world. I was so fond of the Boy's Own Paper that I carefully saved each issue, and at the end of a year took them around to be bound by Charlie Howe, the son of my old schoolmistress. I still have some of those volumes in my library. It is a great pity that the Boy's Own Paper and its companion magazines have declined so in popularity, for I am sure that the boys of my generation got a great deal more from them-including the desire to continue reading more widely-than today's children can possibly receive from radio, television and comic books. 68 In Return All this time, I was still enrapt with Canadian history. The most precious volumes in my library are a set of Parkman' s History, bought on King Street when I was a young man and the eighteen dollars that they cost represented quite a con­ siderable sacrifice. Francis Parkman had travelled widely in Canada and the United States, even living with the Indians in order to obtain authentic details for his books on the great struggle for North America between France and Britain, and was the first person to write on this subject in English in a manner the general public could appreciate. The books, beauti­ fully written and well illustrated with maps, though somewhat prejudiced to the American viewpoint, were still being pub­ lished and aroused considerable comment when the M.I.S. was active. We lent them to each other and spent many hours reading aloud and discussing their tales of early Canada. I literally memorized portions of them. In this way, using texts which are still considered among the best ever written, and with the encouragement of my friends and family, I extended the knowledge of Canadian history which had begun so happily at the Model School. Later I acquired a taste for poetry, which is the "music of words," and Shakespeare had his call. I suppose it was only natural to be attracted by Thomas Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" considering its importance to Cana­ dians, for General Wolfe is said to have recited from it while afloat on the St. Lawrence River before the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. When I was living in London in later years, I used to enjoy driving visiting Canadians to Stoke Poges, where Gray is supposed to have written the poem. Uusually we would have time as well to visit Windsor, have tea at the White Hart and stop at Eton College during the same afternoon. The first edition of the "Elegy," which sold for sixpence a copy in 1750, now is worth a small fortune: one American collector, I have heard, paid five thousand dollars for a copy some years ago to the amazement of his friends, who thought Leisure he was mad, but less than five years afterwards he declined an offer of twice that amount. I have a facsimile copy of the poem showing Gray's final revisions, which improved the harmony but eliminated three whole stanzas. Hark! How the sacred calm that breathes around Bids every fierce, tumultuous passion cease; In still, small accents whispering from the ground A grateful earnest of eternal peace. Him have we seen the greenwood side along, While o'er the heath we hied, our labour done, Oft as the woodlark piped her farewell song, With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun. There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground. I also treasure a splendid copy of Gray's poems printed at the Strawberry Press by Horace Walpole and illustrated by Bentley. It was printed with a hand press on India paper in 1753, bound in calf, and is still well preserved. One wonders if, with all our boasting of mechanical superiority, any book published today would stand the wear and tear of more than two centuries! IN MARCH, 1888, Father took his first vacation in several years. He went to San Francisco to visit my sister Florence, whose husband, Abraham Goodman, had a retail jewellery shop on Market Street. The trip across the continent took more than a week. Most of it was through country covered with ice and snow, so that the change to California's warmth, when it came, was a most appealing surprise. Father was getting old and anxious to avoid Toronto's winters; he saw great business opportunities in this remarkable location which combined beauty with commercial advantages; and before many days had passed he determined to move to San Francisco perma­ nently and to establish an agency there with me as assistant. Before he left the coast, he had already made preliminary business arrangements with the Bank of California and a commission house. His idea was to take the whole family out by ship, via New York to the Isthmus of Panama, overland across the Isthmus, and back up the Pacific coast by a second steamer. The Panama Canal was still being attempted by an Selling 71 unsuccessful French expedition under de Lesseps, who had dug the Suez Canal, but the Isthmus route, more romantic and considerably less expensive than the transcontinental rail­ way, was already popular among those who had the time to use it. If Father had been allowed to carry out his plans, I would probably be an American citizen, but he never returned to Toronto alive. There was no rail connection yet between San Francisco and Vancouver, only a small ship, and during a particularly rough passage on the way home Father fell violently ill. Complications set in, there was no doctor aboard, and a steward's attempts to provide relief only caused grave damage. Father was rushed to hospital when the boat finally docked in Victoria, but within a few days he was dead. I was twenty and by this time had graduated to the position of city traveller in the firm. Father had always emphasized the importance of salesmanship, and with his urging I developed quite early the latent talents which must have come from him. As a result I did quite well visiting firms of retail hardware merchants, tinsmiths, plumbers, and manufacturers in Toronto and Hamilton, a few of which are in existence to this day. One summer, I was sent on the road in place of Coleman Miller, our star salesman, who was laid up with a bad knee. But even with this growing reputation, I was far too young when Father died to assume his place in the partnership: nor for that matter was I given the opportunity, for Father had left his entire share in the firm to Mother. From the interest on that money, aug­ mented by my salary of nine dollars per week, we managed to keep up the house on Wilton Crescent for many years. Six months after Father's death, on the night of October 23, 1888, the company's premises were destroyed by fire. Manny was giving a party that night for Fanny Davenport, who was playing the lead in La Tosca, and we heard of the fire just as we were entering the Grand Opera House. The scene which awaited us at the blaze was spectacular. Our stock on the 72 In Return ground floor included several cases of cartridges which were exploding as the flames approached, shattering windows in the express office across Yonge Street. Toronto's Fire Department was not as efficient as it is today--as a permanent force it was only eleven years old, and most of its engines were still hand­ operated-but it managed to pump enough water into our building to cause more damage than the flames had done. Luckily, we were able to salvage a good proportion of the merchandise. Our loss amounted to some $7 S,ooo, which was covered by insurance. Fortunately for us, just at this time the rival wholesale hard­ ware house of Risley and Kerrigan had been shut down by the government, which did not approve of some of their business methods. We were able to buy their whole line of goods and, more important under the circumstances, take over the lease on their offices and warehouse. The additional capital required for this move came to hand when Alfred Benjamin's younger brother, Frank, joined the partnership. Our new location on Front Street, not far from Yonge Street, was central, more modern than our former home, close to rail and water com­ munications, and with an addition proved more than adequate for our needs. We also gained many experienced employees from Risley and Kerrigan, with the exception of some office staff and travellers who had already found positions elsewhere. Along with their other assets, we took over the other com­ pany's final orders. One day while these were still being made up I passed through the shipping room and noticed a large pile of castors laid out on a bench. The clerk in charge told me they were going right across the country to a furniture manu­ facturer in Victoria, British Columbia. The information caught my imagination: though the Canadian Pacific Railway had opened up a large new market on the west coast three years before, our firm had never tried to exploit it, and I was curious to see what could be done. This seemed a unique opportunity to prove my value to the firm, seek promotion, and at the same Selling 73 time indulge my love for travelling. Besides, a little investiga­ tion disclosed that if I could persuade the company to pay the $1 IO return fare to the coast, it would cost me personally only $15 more to go to San Francisco to spend my two-week vacation with the Goodmans. This thought was very attractive because Florence and I had been very close, despite the dif­ ference in our ages. Accordingly, I proposed to Manny that for a relatively small investment the firm might tap one of the fastest growing sections of the country. He seemed rather doubtful about the chances of my scheme, but to my pleasure finally agreed to the experiment. My next step was to visit G. M. Bosworth, the Canadian Pacific freight traffic manager in Toronto. Because the young railway was experiencing difficulty in balancing its traffic, with the result that many westbound cars were travelling empty, I was able to secure a most favourable arrangement. He offered the very low general freight rate to Vancouver of $1.15 per one hundred pounds regardless of classification, as long as I made up carload lots. Some of the heavy goods in which we dealt, such as nails, travelled normally for as little as 75 cents per hundred pounds, but there were many more expensive items, such as cutlery and carpentry tools, which carried a rate of three and four dollars. His offer promised a substantial saving on mixed cargoes, and since the freight rate was a most impor­ tant part of the cost of any item sold in the west, this promised to be a special enticement for potential clients. Armed with this bargain and two or three trunks of samples, I set out on a through ticket to San Francisco in June, 1889. It seemed quite an adventure. My first stop was Regina, in answer to an inquiry from the firm of Smith and Ferguson. In those days there was only one train each way across the country. Mine reached Regina at four o'clock in the morning. After four days of travelling it was a great relief to climb down and walk about the wooden platform of the station, but apart from the station agent and 74 In Return the nearby hotel there was nothing to welcome strangers. When the train started half an hour later and chugged away, I supposed that its parting whistle was my last contact with civilization. A few hours sleep brightened the outlook. Before long Mr. Smith was greeting me warmly and, not much later, was placing a good-sized order. When I left Regina after twenty-four hours, it was on the best of terms. During the next leg of the journey I spent much of the time with an elderly English couple sitting near me in the railway carriage who were going to visit their son, a merchant in Ashcroft, British Columbia. When we reached his town in the Rocky Mountains, they inadvertently took my handbag away with them. The son quickly found my address once the mis­ take had been discovered, but for some reason he sent the bag to Toronto instead of westward after me. As a result I was left without many personal belongings and totally ignorant as to their fate until I received word from my cousin that the bag had arrived at home. Manny indicated in his letter that the accident might bring some business if I cared to follow it up. On the way back east some weeks later, I did stop at Ashcroft. The son proved to be as ardent a fisherman as myself Nothing would satisfy him but that we spend a day with a guide along the mountain streams before even starting on business. Later he placed a decent order, and continued as a customer as long as we remained in the hardware trade. When the train finally reached Vancouver and I was settled in a hotel, I hurried down to the harbour to see salt water for the first time. I was very impressed, though there was a thick fog over the water and I could only guess by smell and sound at the sweep of the Pacific. As it turned out, when I went back the next day I found I had been looking towards Mount Rainier. Vancouver had a population of about 2 5,ooo persons at this time. It had been laid out along the ground plan of a big city, though huge stumps still obstructed the streets and were being removed by fire and block and tackle. Soon after Selling 75 I arrived, the city had an auction of property, at which a lot fifty by one hundred feet was selling for $50 a foot frontage or $100 if it was a corner piece. The deposit money for one or two lots was burning a hole in my pocket, but I was too smart to be caught up in such speculation; I had no way of knowing that within my lifetime the same lots would be among the most valuable in the downtown district. By chance I learned that the mayor of Vancouver had been in our employ some years earlier while he was in Toronto on his way from Scotland to the West. He remembered me very kindly and provided introductions to several potential cus­ tomers, including some who might otherwise not have seen me. He also arranged for me to book some of the city council's import bu'siness on a small commission basis. Vancouver was a booming town. One of the largest firms opening on the west coast was the McLaren-Ross Lumber Company of Ottawa, which planned to enter the Pacific and British trade in B.C. lumber. For this purpose it was erecting a large saw mill in New Westminister, which at the time rivalled Vancouver in size and importance. For their plant and the company store which would serve the several hundred employees and their families, McLaren-Ross would require large amounts of hard­ ware and other merchandise. I thought I saw a good opening, but I wanted to check the firm's reliability. I wired Toronto asking who were McLaren-Ross. Back came the answer with­ out delay, "Rated a million and over. Sell them all you can." With this encouragement I put forth extra effort and, during many hours with the foreman, sold them a wide range of goods including single- and double-bitted axes, hand saws and cross­ cut saws, crowbars, chains and other equipment for both their store and mill. That order alone was worth thousands of dollars. One evening after dinner I went for a walk in the forest which now is Stanley Park. I set out in daylight, but it soon began to get dark. When I turned to go back, I was lost. The In Return more I hunted for the trail, the more confused I became. I was beginning to picture spending the night in a tree crotch, as I had no idea what wild animals there were in the vicinity and did not want to provide a mouthful for any of them. Finally, by good luck I found the water's edge and with this clue reached the hotel close to midnight. That was my last experience in the British Columbia forests. A few days later I crossed to Victoria to see the furniture maker whose order had sparked the idea of the trip, and then went on by boat to Seattle. In the year since Father's unlucky western trip the rail link to San Francisco had been completed, and it carried me down the coast through the mountains of Washington and Oregon. My sister and brother-in-law were at the station to meet me along with their two sons, Leon and Emmanuel, who were about ten years younger than I. The first day I was there, Florence took me to see San Francisco's wonderful harbour, 450 square miles in area, large enough to hold the shipping of the entire world. The flags on the ships showed that most of the world came there, too. We saw other sights as well, Chinatown, Telegraph Hill, the millionaires' mansions on Nob Hill, and the old section which would disap­ pear seventeen years later in the great earthquake; Leon was among those killed then. Nearly every evening we went to a different theatre. The two weeks I spent with the Goodmans were among the happiest of my life. Still, I did not ignore business. The same morning that I saw the harbour for the first time, I noticed close to its edge a large sign advertising the "Sunset Route." A big new building was being erected nearby, which a foreman explained would be the terminus of a new railroad from New Orleans to San Fran­ cisco. I saw at once the advantages this route offered in trade between California and Britain. Until it opened, goods shipped from Liverpool reached San Francisco either by the long Panama sea route, which involved two trans-shipments at the Isthmus as well as considerable time in transit, or by the Selling 77 expensive overland route from New York. The new line from New Orleans would cut the rail distance by nearly a half, with a resulting drop in freight charges. The additional cost of shipping to New Orleans instead of New York would be much less than the saving afterwards, for the advantage of water traffic over rail was then even more pronounced than it is today. I thought particularly that this route might be used for Russia iron, the beautiful blue metal sheets which in spite of imitations from other countries were still popular for locomotive boilers and stovepipes. Few people in Ontario could afford the genuine article, but in California it was imported by the car­ load for the protective systems which fruit growers built against frost. When I began to solicit orders, I found that without calling cards-I had used the last one in Victoria before my official vacation began-I could not expect to persuade buyers to respect an unknown firm represented by so young a traveller. Once again, an old acquaintance cleared the way. The branch manager of a mercantile agency with which we had dealings elsewhere turned out to be the brother of Dr. Charles Cuthbertson, a bicycling companion and later a neighbour of mine in Toronto. As soon as he had heard my problem, Mr. Cuthbertson reached for his straw hat and led me to the office of one of the principal wholesalers, where he introduced me in flattering terms. The upshot was that I received an order for one hundred packs of Russia iron from that company, and two other orders of about fifty packs each elsewhere. Unfortunately, when I returned to Toronto I mentioned the new route to Mr. Bosworth of the Canadian Pacific Railway. He immediately offered a comparable rate to San Francisco on his line via Montreal and Vancouver, which we accepted in order to encourage the Canadian enterprise. The first shipment we sent happened to be in a car with a leaky roo£ The Russians used to wrap their iron in matting which protected it from In Return rough handling but not from rain. All the shipment was soaked on the way to the coast, and by the time it reached California the sheets were rusted beyond repair. They had been sent at owner's risk without insurance, and the best we could get for them at auction was one-quarter the original cost. The loss on the deal, $2,000, was so disastrous that Manny aban­ doned the western trade in Russia iron from that moment. One other item of business intruded on my time in San Francisco. Soon after arriving, I received a telegram from Manny to buy fifty tons of tallow. I was rather puzzled, as it was not a commodity in which we normally dealt and I knew no more about tallow than the man in the moon. Nevertheless, I proceeded to a wholesale house, where a salesman demon­ strated the purity of his merchandise by applying a portion ofit to his own tongue. It occurred to me then, and I have since learned that it is practised in some areas, that tallow would make a satisfactory substitute for butter as a spread on bread. The quality test seemed a little crude to me, so I took a sample to a local soap maker who offered to buy the lot at a price which would give me a small profit. With this assurance, I sent off the fifty tons to Liverpool by sailing ship. Some time later I discovered it had all been a mistake. While still in Vancouver, I had telegraphed Manny, using our private cable code, for a quotation on corrugated galvanized sheet iron, which I hoped to sell to McLaren-Ross for roofing. I never received a reply. What had happened was that the same code word had crept into our private code on two separate occa­ sions, once for the purpose which I had intended, and once many years before in connection with the trade in tallow and other farm produce which Father had pursued through neces­ sity rather than desire. Manny had chosen the earlier meaning. We never did sell McLaren-Ross the roofing, but the tallow found a ready market in Hamburg. The trip was so successful that on my return home I received a large bonus. I immediately invested the money at interest in Selling 79 the firm, where it has never been disturbed. When the time came to make a second trip to the west coast six months later, Manny decided to send someone else. He thought that if a relatively inexperienced traveller like myself could do so well, a veteran twice my age should do even better. The man he selected was S. R. Kennedy, who had come to us from the United States. Mr. Kennedy did fairly well that winter, but nowhere near what I had done; most of his letters were con­ cerned with complaints and he did little to extend the business. The next summer Manny asked me to take on the western route again. I agreed on two conditions: that this was not to become a regular occurrence, for I had no wish to become a full-time commercial traveller, and that during the trip I would receive the regular traveller's rate of fifty dollars a month. He was rather reluctant to grant me so big a raise, but finally consented. On this trip I had the great advantage of using a catalogue of goods which had been prepared by Risley and Kerrigan but which had not been available when I set out the first time. It saved me the trouble of carrying trunks full of samples which had to be laid out at every stop. With the previous year's experience behind me, the contacts, and the added incentive of a proper salary, I did even better than I had in 1889. In fact, Manny offered me the charge of a new West Coast branch that he was prepared to open in Vancouver, Victoria or even San Francisco. It was an exciting prospect for a young man, one in which I would assuredly have done well. Mother was dead against it, however, when I raised the question with her. She flatly refused to leave Toronto, where Father was buried. As for my own future, she urged me in the strongest terms to look east instead of west, to remember Father's British birth, and in time to cross the Atlantic myself in search of an English wife. Mother was a very clever woman and her advice undoubtedly was sound. I followed it on all counts. ++++++++++ s. England ++++++++++

THE MOST WONDERFUL SHIP in the world when I was young was the iron giant called the Great Eastern. She had been built fifty years before her time, a leviathan nearly seven hundred feet long with twin paddle-wheels and a twenty-four foot propeller, five funnels and six masts carrying 6,500 square yards of canvas. There wasn't a dry-dock that could hold her, nor a ship to equal her in the nineteenth century. To capture Britain's trade with the Orient, her makers had planned a ship large enough to carry all the coal for the 22,000 miles to Ceylon and back. The Great Eastern met their specifications, but from the first she proved a jinx. Some say her bad luck came from the disappearance of a riveter and his boy assistant, who were thought to have been walled up in her double hull during construction. Whatever the cause, by the time she was finally launched in the Thames River in 1858, she had eaten up four million dollars, bankrupted three companies, and driven Brunel, the engineering genius who designed her, to his death­ bed. On her first voyage to the sea the forward funnel blew out England 81 while she was still in the English Channel. The explosion killed five men and would have hulled any other vessel, but the Great Eastern survived to destroy more men and more hopes. She never did sail to the East; instead her new owners put her on the shorter trans-Atlantic route for which she was economic­ ally unsuited, and though she attracted thousands of paying sight-seers while she rested at dock, the Great Eastern never caught on as a passenger vessel. This was a great pity, for as well as having exquisite furnishings, she was the first ship long enough to overcome the curse of sea-sickness. The only time that she had a full passenger list, I have heard, was on her first trip to Canada. That was in July, 1861, when the Civil War was under way in the States and the Fenians were threatening to raid across the border. The British Govern­ ment decided to charter the Great Eastern as a troop ship to rush reinforcements across the Atlantic. She carried 2,144 officers and men, 473 women and children, her own crew and 122 horses on that voyage, and even battling fog did it in the record time of 81 days. She arrived in Quebec to a hero's welcome. It was one of her rare successes. Her most famous achievement undoubtedly was to lay the Atlantic cable, the first permanent telegraphic link between Europe and America, in r 866. This was a task to which her great bulk was uniquely fitted, for she had both the capacity to store thousands of miles of cable in her hold, and the strength to withstand the pull as the iron-jacketed wire was paid out. Subsequently, she laid four other trans-Atlantic cables, but eventually that job also came to an end. She was still a problem when the wreckers took her over in 1889, for they had a terrible time to break her up. Inside the double hull, just as the stories had predicted, they found the skeletons of the riveter and his assistant. Even at the nadir of her fortunes the Great Eastern never lost her romance, so you can imagine my excitement when I learned in 1890 that Jack, in the English office, had acquired 82 In Return the iron plates which had formed her hull. We were accus­ tomed to import shovelling scrap, as it was called, from England for sale to the rolling mills in Montreal, where it was melted down to be made into new articles. Usually we dealt in lots of five hundred tons. The Great Eastern had thirty thousand iron plates, each seven-eighths of an inch thick, averaging one-third of a ton apiece. I went up to Montreal with the letter from Jack in my pocket, and sold the whole ten thousand tons in a single day. It was the biggest day's business I ever managed. Much of the iron was made into cut nails-the cheaper wire nails were still a few years off-of which I bought several thousand kegs from the mills for sale to hardware dealers. Shortly before this event Jack had moved the English office from Liverpool, the centre of the tinplate export trade, to London, the business heart of the Empire. He had also obtained a seat on the London Metal Exchange, which permitted him to deal profitably in various commodities on a commission basis. Our new office was on the second floor of a building in Fenchurch Street, a part of the city where numerous other overseas houses were located. With him Jack had brought his manager, George Highton, and the two or three clerks who formed the entire office staff necessary for that end of our business. For himself and his family he had found a fine house at 97 Canfield Gardens, in the fashionable new district of Hampstead, and possibly at my prompting he invited me to spend some time there in the summer of I 892. I had saved enough money to pay my passage, but had no idea whether the firm would grant the necessary leave of absence in addition to my normal vacation. One Sunday morning, after Manny and I had been down to the office to see the Jewish travellers who were home for the weekend, he invited me to the Royal Canadian Yacht Club on the Island. As we crossed Toronto Bay on the ferry, I raised the subject of the considerably longer boat trip which I had in mind. He seemed rather doubtful at first, because the firm was not doing England 83 very well and trans-Atlantic voyages might give the wrong impression to the business community. I pointed out that since I would be staying with Jack the trip would cost little over my passage, and that it could prove extremely valuable to have a first-hand acquaintance with the mills which pro­ duced so much of our stock, particularly the tinplate manu­ facturers of South Wales. Manny considered this for a minute and then asked, "Are you really stuck on going?" I replied most emphatically that I was. "Well then," he said, "I don't know that it wouldn't be a good idea," and he listed several things I might look into while I was over. I booked passage immediately on the Allan liner Parisian and early in July packed my bags and took the train for Montreal to board her. She was a good-sized vessel for her day, most impressive at first sight with her iron sides rising high above the dock. My cabin, shared with two other men, turned out to be on the lowest level used for passengers, but this didn't seem very important. I was off to England at last! The trip passed rapidly enough, although we missed the tide entering the Mersey and Jack, who had come up to meet me, had to wait an extra day in Liverpool before the Parisian docked. Once through customs and seated in the compartment of a train heading towards London, I strained my eyes to catch every aspect of this new world. Everything seemed so tidy and green that I exclaimed, 'Jack, it looks as if they have cleaned up the country just for my visit!" That first high opinion was reinforced time and again in the following weeks. Most mornings I went to the office with Jack, by the Underground, but whenever I could get away from business I spent the time sightseeing. Even the stones of London have history written in them. I was particularly impressed with the beautiful parks, so different from what I knew in Toronto where people seem to begrudge every square foot of green land. On weekends, Jack took me to interesting spots in the nearby country. As a surprise, he also arranged a trip to Paris with Mr. In Return Highton., who was his close friend as well as an employee. We crossed the Channel as "Cookies," in the charge of Messrs. Thomas Cook and Sons Limited. When we arrived in the French capital and left the railway station, I spotted the sign of our hotel a few blocks away. The horse and carriage we engaged to take us there, however, followed a most extensive route through the city. At the hotel, we left it to the gendarmes to settle with our friend the driver, though we had to admit to them that the tour was really worth the additional fare. Apart from the week in Paris, I spent most of my time abroad with Jack, his wife and their four children, who treated me as a member of the family rather than a visitor. They introduced me to many of their friends, several of whom I met at the New West End Synagogue on St. Petersburgh Place, where Jack and his family were members. Alfred and Frank Benjamin also had a large circle of family and friends in London, among them two widows, Mrs. Culb and Mrs. Blankensee, who were particularly kind. Before I left, Mrs. Culb said, "The next time you visit England, be sure to come in all your warpaint and feathers. I'll introduce you to some nice girls." I did return in 1897, and Mrs. Culb was as good as her word. She gave a dinner party of perhaps twelve couples, at which I was fortunate to meet and take down to dinner Miss May Mandelson, who shortly afterwards would become my wife. The meal was long, with many courses and many oppor­ tunities to talk to one's table partner. May had been born in Tumut, New South Wales, where her grandfather, David Cohen, was an important merchant and her father had raised sheep on an extensive scale. Like most Australians, her father had never stopped thinking of England as home and always hoped to return there. He was also anxious to leave Australia for fear that his daughters might marry the less desirable descendants of British convicts transported there earlier in the nineteenth century. As a result, when Mr. Mandelson reached an age and position where he could retire, he bought passages England 85 to London for the entire family. May remembered crossing Sydney Harbour in a small rowboat to the sailing ship, one of the last of its kind, which would carry them halfway around the world. She was about eight at the time. The trip took the better part of three months without a stop, but the mother and father were good sailors and the children soon learned. When they arrived at London docks, relatives were waiting to meet them and instal them in temporary quarters. By the time I met May both her parents had died. As the oldest sister and mistress of the household, she told me, she had given up the idea of marriage, at least until all her younger sisters found husbands. I said, "You remind me of an individual that I met recently in Rudyard Kipling's book The Light That Pai led. It's the story of an artist who goes blind very early in a promising career. At one point his model tells him that she never expects to get married, but he replies, Just wait until Mr. Right comes along."' Then I said to her, 'Just you wait till Mr. Right comes along! He may not be very far distant." I asked if I might send her a copy of The Light That Failed, provided that her brothers would not object, for it was not customary for young ladies to accept gifts from men they had met only once. She assured me that she would enjoy reading it and that she could always pacify her brothers. Later, after the men had had their port and rejoined the women in the drawing room, she recited for us. I was immensely taken with May Mandelson, and looked forward to meeting her again. Luckily, I had not long to wait. In those days, hostesses were usually at home on the Sunday after a dinner party, and when I visited Mrs. Culb that after­ noon May was there too. When we left, I walked with her and her brothers down West End Lane to the Underground station. This led to my being invited to lunch at their home in Chep­ stow Villas and eventually, not long before I sailed for home, to my taking May aside one evening and asking her to marry me. I was late getting home to Hampstead that night, but 86 In Return Jack and his wife were waiting up to hear the news and help me celebrate my good fortune. It was still necessary to get the permission ofMay's guardians, Mr. Ben Levy, the London representative of David Cohen and Company, and Mr. Louis S. Cohen, her uncle, the head of the big Lewis chain of clothing and textile stores in the Midlands, and a future Lord Mayor of Liverpool. I went around to see Mr. Levy early the next morning at his office in Token House Yard, the heart of commercial London. A clerk received me very pleasantly and to my surprise said I had been expected. Mr. Levy was sitting behind his desk. He was a handsome man, big in every sense of the word. "I know why you are calling," he said at once. "May Mandelson was around to see me at breakfast time." Of course, that made it much easier for me. "You know," he continued, "she' s a very attractive girl, in character as well as appearance, and if I were single today I'd rather marry her myself than see you or anyone else do it." Before long, the talk turned to my prospects. I told him I was receiving $1,500 a year in salary. "That's about £300, not a very great fortune," he remarked. I explained that my cousins had promised an increase to $2,500 a year when I married, and that beginning the next January I would receive a 20 per cent share of the profits. When he asked how much that might amount to I had to admit, "The state of the firm isn't terribly good right now and 20 per cent of nothing is still nothing. But I am assured of the $2,500, ancl on that we can live quite comfortably in Toronto." He said that he would have to get additional reports about me. Before I left, he asked me to see him at six o'clock that evening. At that time precisely I climbed the big front steps of his home at Number 8 Pembridge Square and rang the bell. A butler in full livery led me to a side room, where I was soon joined by Mr. Levy in evening dress. "Sigmund Samuel," he said, "I have received nothing but flattering reports about you. There is nothing for me to do but join the two of you hand- England in-hand, and give my blessing to this engagement." May came into the room, and he joined our hands and we kissed. Afterwards he invited us to join his party for dinner but May declined because her sister had prepared a special dinner in anticipation. Our engagement was to have lasted a year. Once back in Canada, however, I managed to whittle the time in half, so that we were married on July 6, 1898, in the New West End Synagogue in London. The wedding unfortunately attracted pick-pockets, making it an occasion of rather mixed emotions for two or three guests, but May and I were completely happy as we set out afterwards in Mr. Levy's brand new equipage. During the ride to Victoria Station, we were puzzled that so many men tipped their hats and called out good wishes for our happiness and luck. When we reached our destination I discovered that someone had advertised our new state by decorating the carriage's rear axle with an assortment of old boots. We spent that night in Dover. The next day we crossed to France on the first leg of the Petit Tour of the Continent. One afternoon in Paris I went for a walk alone and when I returned to the Grand Hotel, the maid informed me, "Mademoiselle has gone to her room." I soon put her right about forms of address. Our next stop was Strasbourg, and then down the Rhine to Cologne. The Germans impressed us greatly for their industry, neatness, prosperity, and efficiency, and also for their appetites: they seemed to eat twice as much as the average man. We tried to visit Mother's former home, but it turned out there were several Sulzbachs, all of which answered the sketchy descriptions I could recall from stories of her youth­ the school, the railroad station at the bottom of the town, the station-master who used a wheelbarrow to move his trunks, and so on-and so we never did get there. Our honeymoon ended at a seaside resort in Belgium. It was a fine beginning for fifty-three very happy years together. 88 In Return Our first meeting had a sequel many years later, when we were living in London. I had fallen into the habit of stopping on the way home from the office at the Savile Club, and on one particular afternoon in the autumn, when it had already grown dark, I found a stranger sitting by the fireplace as I entered the lounge. Every London club has its own rules; at the Savile, members are expected to talk together without formal introduction. I said to the man, "I expect we'd better make conversation." He replied, "If you'd like to, I'd be very glad. My name is Rudyard Kipling." I very nearly said that if that were true I was the Prince of Wales, but fortunately I did not, for it was Kipling. We had a pleasant chat, and he was very interested to hear the important part his book had played in my courtship. A day or two later, as I was leaving the house, the postman delivered a parcel. It was a copy of The Light That Failed, autographed by the author, with a reference to the passage about Mr. Right. ~J,~J,~Jt.!~dt~~ 9. Partners

AS A TOTAL STRANGER to Canada, May was rather anxious on our way across the Atlantic about her new life, but her recep­ tion in Toronto reassured her at once. Mother and my sisters took to her from the first and immediately adopted my wife as one of their own. Within a few weeks I had rented a house on Madison Avenue for something like thirty or thirty-five dollars a month. We set to work furnishing it, and by 1901 were in a position, well established and with a small family, to own our own home. That autumn I found a good-sized house under construction in the orchard ofan estate on Walmer Road, just a step from the old Belt Line on Spadina Road, and quite close to Bloor Street. When we bought it, May admitted she had not expected anything quite that substantial when she agreed to come to Canada with me. She had expected per­ manent quarters considerably more like the cottage I rented that summer for her and the children at Grassie Point on Lake Simcoe! From the first, my wife and I had an understanding that 90 In Return she would have complete charge of the household, its furnish­ ing and operation. I would provide the necessary funds but then, without conflict, could devote myself entirely to business. I was already in effective charge of the Toronto office. Manny had died tragically and unexpectedly a few years before during a trip to New York. He and I originally were to have gone together and had made plans for evenings at the Broadway theatres after business, but at the last minute he had received an invitation to spend the time there with his wife's family, had left me in Toronto, and while with them accidentally fell from the unprotected balcony of their fifth floor apartment. The Benjamins were still the senior partners in Toronto, but they were never great businessmen and were much more occupied with their investments and other interests. However, Frank did make one move about the time of my marriage which greatly strengthened the firm's position. That was to sell out our entire line of shelf hardware. It was a decision I had been proposing for some time. Though brought up in the hardware end of the business, I had quite early seen its disadvantages and the desirability of concentrating on metals and heavy hardware. The hundreds of items and tremendous detail in shelf hardware required a large warehouse and an expensive staff. They afforded an easy target for thievery, particularly in the cutlery section which eventually had to be put under special management. There was constant danger of being over-stocked in many slow-selling items, and though shelf hardware could be a money-maker, as my trips out west had shown, as often as not it involved small trans­ actions with little or no profit. In 1961, through the kindness of one of his descendants, I received a set of invoices we sent in 1892 to a Toronto hardware merchant named Thomas Down. Of the dozens of items listed, not one amounted to anything. We were supposed to be in the wholesale business, but some invoices were for as little as a twenty-cent bladder of putty, or for two pounds of nails which, with standard Partners 91 discounts of 70 and IO per cent, amounted to the magnificent sum of ten cents. There wouldn't have been enough in most of them to pay for the cost of stamps and invoicing. The metal business was on a far different scale. Under a policy of economic protection, Canada was turning into a manufacturing nation requiring large quantities of raw and semi-finished material. In a single day in Hamilton, for example, I could usually do as much business as in ten days on the road with hardware. I had started going to Hamilton as a young man to visit its several stove manufacturers. Travelling around the city in a hired carriage to save time, I could generally make the rounds in a morning and afternoon and secure three or four thousand dollars worth of orders. Our staple then was Canada plates, made in England and shipped here in packs of fifty-two sheets to be turned principally into stovepipe. Later, when canning farm produce became a big business in Ontario, Welsh tinplate assumed the dominant role. The change occurred in this way. In the early days of the canning industry, individual packers had made their own containers, buying from us or our competitors the necessary tinplate and solder materials. Eventually, the Norton Manufacturing Com­ pany of Chicago decided to open a plant in Hamilton to mass produce tin cans mechanically and sell them cheaply to the packers. As soon as news of their plans reached Toronto, I decided to go after the business. My campaign was so successful from the first that Manny, who was still alive at its inception, grew fearful that these new friends would never be able to pay for all their purchases and we would have to settle at a cut rate. As it turned out, there was never a moment's delay in payment. Norton's became our biggest customer, in many years account­ ing for nearly half our total sales, and their manager, Mr. Breckenridge, became my firm personal friend. This state of affairs continued happily for many years until American tin­ plate manufacturers, with government encouragement, began competing with the Welsh product in foreign markets and 92 In Return Mr. Breckenridge's son-the father had died-began buying from them. Shelf hardware simply couldn't begin to compete with this quality of business. Frank did his best and whipped it into a fair shape for a time, but even so when he decided to sell to a friend in the National Club it was at somewhat less than one hundred cents on the dollar. Typically, he got rid of it too soon, for hardware prices went up the next year, but still we were well rid of that end of the business. Freed from this drag, lifted by war-time prosperity and the growth of Canadian industry, the firm enjoyed a record year in 1899. It was a great surprise. As I had told Mr. Levy quite honestly, no one thought my new partnership would amount to anything for some time. Certainly Jack and the Benjamins never guessed that the first year I participated in them, profits would amount to $rno,ooo. My portion came to $20,000. My partners were so vexed at having to share the profits which had eluded them for many years, that Jack came over from London especially to offer me a very handsome salary in his office if I would revert to the position of employee. A year earlier I would have been tempted; now I was more angry than interested, and considered taking my nest egg and starting my own firm, perhaps in New York. Since three-quarters of the profit had come from Toronto operations, this would have had serious consequences for the others and finally I agreed to invest the money in the family company, where it still is. After Alfred Benjamin's death in 1900, my share in the business increased to 32 per cent. Frank Benjamin, with whom I was very friendly, had an equal portion, and Jack, in London, the remaining 36 per cent. Part of Alfred Benjamin's estate consisted of shares in a mine called the Last Chance in Washing­ ton state. The land lawyer we sent west to investigate the property reported that it was valueless. Later we learned that he was a thorough rogue and that in fact the mine was a good one, but by that time he had bought the shares from Frank Benjamin for a song. Partners 93 The early 19oo's were challenging years for our business. Imported staples such as tinplate and Canadas declined in importance because of competition from United States and Canadian manufacturers. Government support gave Canadian lead practically a domestic monopoly. Britain was losing her primacy in industry, on the one hand to the American sup­ pliers who were our rivals, and on the other to the Continental manufacturers whom we began to patronize extensively. All this meant considerable adjustment, for the firm a number of new lines, and for me constant study to absorb the intricacies of standards and varieties in each new type of merchandise. Wherever there was business, we undertook it. Once we even sent Welsh tinplate to the United States, where a strike had put the domestic product in short supply. Another time, when hard coal was scarce, we imported three hundred tons, all we could obtain, the first ever shipped from England to Toronto. Our most important new lines were in European iron and steel, including heavy structural shapes. The Canadian and American mills, although turning out more metal than ever before, simply could not keep up with the demand from rail­ road builders and construction firms. We imported pig iron and steel for the Masseys to make agricultural implements and for my old friend Sam McLaughlin's early automobiles, and when General Electric built its Canada Foundry works in Toronto Junction, we sold them the first broad flange beams brought into this country. The latter, one of the biggest sales we ever made, excited considerable interest since the new beams could take so much greater loads than any previously in use. I often was discouraged during this period. Each new venture required considerable work and detailed study, yet it seemed that no sooner did we get a good trade established in a certain line than something turned up to stop it. But I was determined to do at least as well each year as we had done the year before and, despite a sharp drop after the I 899 boom, we did manage more than to hold our own. My guides then, as always, were: 94 In Return Buy on the cheapest market and sell on the dearest. Operate on conservative principles, keep the business well in hand and only take sure business that pays well. Maintain a strictly honest name. In times of short supply, be fair to the customers. Leave cut-throat lines alone. Some firms are always ready to gouge the buyer when stocks are short and cut prices to the bone the rest of the time. Then they are ready to sell on the smell of a herring. That has never been my kind of business. Once when we were in Atlantic City, my wife was talking to the wife of one of our chief competitors. The women complained that though she was getting old, her husband could not afford to provide proper household help. "Well," said May, who was quite a business­ woman in her own right, "I know your company has a large turnover, but there is one thing they seem to forget. That's the profit." By 1907, when we were forced to move from the rented quarters on Front Street, the company was strong enough to be able to build its own home for the first time. I was fortunate to find a fine property at the southwest corner of King Street and Spadina Avenue, on the western edge of downtown Toronto. At the time this area had scarcely been touched-the lot I was interested in held a Chinese laundry and a couple of old taverns-but it was close to rail and water communications and the price was reasonable. I had the weekend to decide on an offer. On Sunday afternoon May and I rode down on the Belt Line to look over the land. She was so impressed that she offered to buy it with her own money if necessary and rent it to the firm. As it happened, there was no need. That evening, when I visited Frank Benjamin for our regular Sunday round of billiards, he fell in with my plan right away. On the property we built a handsome five-storey brick warehouse and office buil4ing, reserving the basement and most of the ground floor for our own use. Later we bought the adjoining lot and expanded the buildings westward, adding at the same time a further storey to the original block. Partners 95 Across King Street, on the north side, stood the old Cowan Chocolate works, which I was able to buy in 1911. A year or two later I was awakened at four o'clock in the morning by the telephone. It was the police to report that the building on King Street had burned down. For a moment my heart stood still, I was so sure that our new offices had been destroyed. Instead, it turned out to be the chocolate works, in place of which we put up a twin of the first building. Until well into my 95th year I spent five days a week at my office there. Frank Benjamin left Toronto in 1908 and went to London to live, retaining his partnership in the business. Four years later,Jack Samuel died. Under our agreement, Frank and I had the first option on his shares and we divided them equally, taking 50 per cent each. It was a big move up from being an employee just fifteen years before. By this time we were well established in Toronto in real estate as well as trade. We had a fine manager in George Pepall, a man highly respected in the industry, a true gentleman and for many years my close friend. And so the way seemed open at last to realize an old ambition, to move to London and to give my family the benefit of an English education. My wife and I sold our house and furniture and with our four children and their governess, Miss Champion, we set sail across the Atlantic early in March, 1914. 11111111111111111 III I III I III III IIII I IllI

10. War

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OUR ROUTE was roundabout to escape winter by way of the Mediterranean. From New York the liner touched briefly at the Azores and Madiera, passed through the Strait of Gibraltar and let us off at Naples. We made an excursion from there to Pompeii, a place that had fascinated me ever since as a boy at Model School I read Bulwer-Lytton's account of its final days, and in its ruins we followed up his descriptions as best we could. Then on to Rome, where would-be guides with broken English lay in wait at every tourist attraction. At the Vatican we happened to engage one who was certainly no credit to his profession. Before a group of tablets inscribed in Hebrew rather than Latin, my wife finally lost patience and gave the unhappy man a brief but pointed lesson in pronouncing and translating the language she knew so well. Before long we had a small audience, including some Americans from the far West, who would hear nothing but that my wife take over their guide' s position too and lead them from point to point inter­ preting the inscriptions. War 97 Rome was so warm, even in March, that during one of many walks I stopped to buy a straw hat. The customer ahead of me, an Englishman, was just about to leave the shop wearing his new acquisition when I arrived. As he reached the door, the Italian proprietor saw that a tag was still attached to the hat and called loudly, "Stop! Stop! There is a price upon your head!" When we reached England a few days later I sent this story into Punch and received five guineas when they published it with illustration. The first order of business in London was to find a suitable home. That search ended in Porchester Terrace, a pleasant West End street leading directly into Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park. Number 64 was a good-sized solid Georgian house with a broad frontage, a courtyard at the front and in the rear a garden and tennis court. I could not buy it-the whole street was owned by the Ecclesiastical Commission of the Church of England-but I was able to buy the last twenty-five years of a ninety-nine year lease. This is a common way of holding land in London, so that I felt quite settled and pro­ ceeded to engage in renovations. The principal change we effected was the installation of Canadian-style central heating, with a coke-fired boiler in the basement and half a dozen radiators a bout the house-on the landings, in the dining room and ground-floor sitting room, and in my own and my wife's bedrooms. Before choosing this house, I had accompanied agents to several other London homes. Most were still occupied, and I noticed one thing particularly. If the house we were viewing was occupied by a man with naval interests, it would be decorated with paintings of British ships. If he were a retired army officer, it would have military portraits and prints on its walls. After one of these visits I said to my wife, "If we ever do find a house here, I'm going to collect Canadian pictures." This was still a relatively novel idea; when it came to historical art, most Canadians preferred that of Europe to their In Return own. One of the rare exceptions was Sir Frederick Williams­ Taylor, General Manager of the Bank of Montreal, a good friend who had introduced me to early Canadian prints through the fine collection in the bank's head office. My own collection began within hours of signing the lease for our new home. During a stroll through the City of London that afternoon I happened to notice in a shop window several prints, including one of Toronto. The woman in charge said they were Bartletts and cheap at ten shillings each. I bought two or three. At the time I knew little about W. H. Bartlett except that he was a talented English artist who had visited Canada two or three times in the 183o's, that he had depicted the early years of our Dominion in many charming and interesting sketches and that these had been reproduced in two volumes entitled Canadian Scenery. Later I learned the prints I bought that day had been cut from a copy of one of these books and, given the market in Canadiana at the time, were hardly bargains. They are worth scarcely more today than the money I paid for them on an impulse in 1914. With further study in London's art galleries and salons, I grew more perceptive and before long added several fme pieces. Among them were a set of six large engravings of scenes on the St. Lawrence River and its Gulf, taken from sketches made by General Wolfe's aide-de-camp during the campaign against Quebec, and dedicated to William Pitt. Three of them hang on my library wall at home, where I have been working on these memoirs. The others are in my dining room. We had barely got settled in our new home, and I in this new activity, when the First World War broke out. It was a terrible jolt. I was already too old to fight and lacked any military experience, but I joined the Home Guard and drilled with them regularly. Even so, I wasn't too much use. Years before I had broken my right leg while vaulting at a men's athletic club in Toronto, and had never been able to walk very great distances since. Frank Benjamin had been a Captain in War 99 the Queen's Own Rifles in Toronto, but by this time he also was too old for active service. (In the Second World War, his son led the British Army's special Jewish Brigade and saw service in North Africa, Italy and northern Europe.) It was not long before I realized I would be more useful as a business­ man. I never bothered with a car in London because of the excellent Underground railway-even when its carriages were still pulled by dirty, smoky, coal locomotives-and the inexpensive, ubiquitous taxicabs. On the first morning of the war I set out as ~sual to take the "twopenny tube" to the office. As I entered the large elevator which carried passengers at our station from ground level down to the tracks, my mind was in a turmoil, for no one knew what would happen to business. Then I noticed a new sign posted on one of the walls. It said, "Keep On Keeping On!" I felt as if it were addressed directly to me. On the train, I recalled a letter Father had written to Uncle Mark at the outbreak of the Crimean War stressing the importance of iron. It seemed good advice in 1914 too. At the office I told Frank Benjamin, who was about to leave for the London Metal Exchange, to buy all the warehouse warrants he could obtain in iron, up to five or ten thousand tons. When he came back from 'Change at lunchtime, I asked how he had succeeded. "Oh well," he replied, "I didn't buy as much as you wanted. I only got two thousand tons. Ten thousand seemed far too great an investment.'' That afternoon, of course, the government stopped all metal trading in warrants and the price of iron skyrocketed. We lost a small fortune because of Frank's timidity. Luckily in George Pepall I had a thoroughly reliable right-hand man, who on his own in Toronto imme­ diately negotiated a three hundred thousand dollar bank loan to see us over the period of adjustment when money was impossible to obtain in England. Overnight the current of our business reversed. England had no more metals to export, except across the Channel in the IOO In Return form of ammunition and armaments. From the workshop of the world she became an importing nation. Luckily the United States had already grown into an important producer of iron and other metals. Through our Toronto office we had made many contacts with American suppliers, and these rapidly proved of considerable value. On the first Saturday of the war I broke with family tradition and over Frank Benjamin's protests kept the office open on the Sabbath. That morning a boy delivered a cable from one of our New York friends offering fifty tons of copper and fifty of zinc. It had to be accepted by noon, for the demand was crazy. The Commercial Cable Company was just around the corner but when I reached the receiving office it was jammed with customers and a clerk assured me that no matter how important my message, it would never arrive in time. I thought to myself that it would, though I didn't know how. Just then a youngster came through the door with a Cable Company hat in his hand. "Where are you going?" I asked. He said he was on his way to the operating room on the third floor. I volunteered to accompany him. "Very well, but you'll be kicked out for sure," he replied. At our destination, filled with the tickers sending messages across the Atlantic, I approached one of the senior men. "What do you mean by an important message?" he asked after I explained my case. "Well," I said, "You can read English, can't you? This is an order for copper and zinc. Both are terribly scarce just now. I have a chance to get fifty tons of each-and from years of experience in the hardware business, I can tell you that it's impossible to make ammunition without them.'' Within half an hour, the acceptance was in New York. Early the next week, I went to Birmingham to offer the goods to a prominent ammunition firm with which we had dealt for years. To reach their purchasing agent on this occasion I had to talk my way past armed guards, but once he learned what was in hand I received a hearty welcome. I turned over that entire consignment without taking a cent of profit. War IOI Besides our contacts in the United States, we had another valuable asset in our intimate knowledge of markets on both sides of the Atlantic. The U.S. Steel Company had a London office which quoted only in dollars and cents per one hundred pounds F.0.B. New York. This was simplest for them, but not for the English buyers accustomed to dealing in pounds, shillings and pence and long tons of 2,240 pounds. After sixty years with offices in Canada and England, it didn't make any difference to us what terms we used. Before long we were doing a big business in metals, not only into Britain but also to a number of other countries traditionally supplied by her. With its scores of shipping and insurance agents and representatives of overseas houses, all clustered in the City within a few crowded blocks, London afforded a unique centre for this sort of operation. From our small office thousands of tons were ordered through the Toronto branch and consigned to ports in Australia and New Zealand, India, China and South America. Beside this world-wide trade our old business shrank to insignificance. The new activities strained our facilities to the limit, but we never received a complaint about quality or delivery. Nor, fortunately, did we lose a single ton to enemy naval action. One of our most valuable lines, and one of the few from this period which continued for a few years after the war, was in rolled sheet zinc. England's supplies had always come from the Continent before the war, particularly from Germany and Belgium. In the United States there were only two manu­ facturers, both of whom had sold to us. These had been only small transactions-principally to supply engravers-but the Americans liked our way of doing business and when Mr. Pepall approached them for an exclusive agency outside North America, they agreed with pleasure. We got them considerable business in England, where zinc was in great demand for roofing, and in other parts of the world such as Australia and South Africa, where it was used in refming gold. In all that time neither side ever bothered with an agreement in writing. !02 In Return Soon after this trade began I was visited by a neighbour on Fenchurch Street who had just received through us a shipment of five tons of zinc. "I've got you now," he started off right away. "Every cask in that shipment bore the name of the Illinois Zinc Company and so did every sheet. Now that I know where you get the metal, I'll buy direct and save on your fancy prices." I told him he wouldn't save much money by dealing directly, but with a smile admitted that he did seem to have us on toast. I did not mention that in my desk drawer lay a telegram from Peru, Illinois, reporting his inquiries and asking me to deal with him in any way I saw fit. The next day he came back considerably less triumphantly. "I owe you an apology," he began this time. "I didn't know you had an exclusive agency. I need more zinc but I don't suppose that you'd care to sell it to me after that trick of mine." I took the order, of course; it would be a poor agent who refused business because of a personal grudge. And despite his sour comment, we never did take undue advantage of our strength in zinc. Instead of large profits on a small turnover, we preferred a smaller mark-up and more sales to benefit the mills we repre­ sented.Nor did we profiteer at home. We might have in Canada plates, to name one item in which we were well stocked at the outbreak of war, but we never raised prices although on some occasions we could easily have doubled and even tripled them. While these affairs were demanding all my attention, I was visited by two friends from Toronto. One was Sir Edmund Walker, the President of the Canadian Bank of Commerce, Chairman of the University of Toronto's Board of Governors, and one of the best friends either the University or the Royal Ontario Museum have ever had. The other was Charles Currelly, who as its first curator personally built up most of the Museum's wonderful collection in archaeology. They persuaded me to accompany them on a visit to Currelly' s friend Dr. Allen Sturge, who was a distinguished amateur archaeologist as well as a medical specialist and former physi- War 103 cian to Queen Victoria. In the course of travel Dr. Sturge had put together a remarkable collection of Greek and Italian vases and statuettes. Now he found it necessary to sell his treasures. He had turned his home into a convalescent hospital for wounded soldiers when the war began, had exhausted his own means in keeping it up, and with the added tax burden and generally rising prices had finally decided he must realize the value of at least some of his pieces. The young museum in Toronto had the opportunity to buy this unique collection if it could find the funds. Sir Edmund and Currelly hoped I would help out. When we reached Dr. Sturge's house I was tremendously impressed. I knew nothing of Greek and Italian vases, but as our host and Currelly took me around from one showcase to another and explained what they held, it took little effort to realize what was involved. There were almost four hundred pieces in the collection. The earliest, more than four thousand years old, had been shaped without benefit of a potter's wheel in imitation of gourds and other natural carriers. There were examples from Crete and from the earliest of the great Grecian periods, and several beautiful "black-figure" vases, on which scenes had been depicted in black upon a red background. On the side of one, ancient jockeys whipped their horses forward in a neck-and-neck race; this was a trophy originally presented, filled with oil, to the winner of the Panathenaic Games in the fifth century before the Christian era. Later vases, even more lovely, were decorated with red figures on a background filled in with black. The most recent of the Greek jars, about 2,200 years old, were burial urns which in some cases still contained the ashes of the dead. On other shelves stood vases and pitchers from Etruscan and Roman times, and a number of the exquisite little terracotta statuettes known as Tanagra figures. Dr. Sturge had considered selling his collection to the British Museum, until he learned they were hard put to it to find safe storage for what they already had. He was not anxious to see 104 In Return it leave the country, but finally he agreed to my argument that in view of Canada's war effort Toronto was as appropriate a new home as could be found. When the matter of price came up he amazed me by naming a figure of only about five thousand pounds. I could tell the collection was worth a great deal more, in fact Currelly later explained that the doctor was asking only the original cost and that the value had perhaps tripled in the meantime. When I appeared to hesitate for a moment, though my decision was already made, Sir Edmund took me aside. "This would be a wonderful find for the Royal Ontario Museum," he said. "If you were to see your way clear to buy it, I'll tell you what I would do. I'd personally guarantee to get you the sterling at a substantial discount." I agreed to buy the collection then and there. It did not leave Dr. Sturge's until peace returned. He was considerably disturbed by occasional Zeppelin raids near his home, but even so that location was much safer than the alternatives: storing the collection in London, where air raids were much more frequent, or shipping it across the Atlantic, in which event it might be torpedoed. When it did arrive at last in Toronto, I visited the Museum to see the cases opened. There were something like thirty-two of them, all beautifully packed so that not a piece was even slightly damaged. The vases filled three galleries and gave the Royal Ontario Museum, despite its youth, one of the finest collections of ancient Greek and Italian art in North America. With them was unveiled a great statue of Venus the Mother, which had been smuggled out of Greece by lugger to Marseilles, then sent to Paris where Currelly found it at a dealer's. At his request, I agreed to pay for it also, as well as for some other vases and statuettes he had purchased at various times. The Venus is a magnificent por­ trayal of the goddess, somewhat more than life size, clad in flowing robes which even in stone show traces of further garments underneath. It is obvious that once she held a child on her left arm. What that statue alone would be worth today fVar 105 heaven only knows, but I am sure it would be well beyond my means. As the First World War dragged on I grew increasingly concerned for the safety of my family. One of Jack's sons, Cecil, and a nephew of Frank Benjamin had been killed in action and though my own boys were too young to fight, Zeppelin raids were growing more common over London. We decided to return to Canada. My wife and I, with the two oldest children, Kathleen and Lewis, sailed by neutral Dutch ship to New York and some weeks later Norman and Florence, accompanied by Miss Champion, crossed on another vessel. Frank Benjamin saw them aboard but did not cable us news of their departure until the ship was halfway across the Atlantic and outside the U-boat danger zone. That still left time for May and me to take the train to New York and prepare a gala reception for our youngest children. United again, we resumed our life in Toronto. II. London

FOR TWENTY YEARS after the war, my wife and I had two homes, one in Toronto and one in London. England held many attractions. On my wife's side there were ties of family, on mine business interests, and for both of us there were the politeness of the English people, the historical connections, the more equitable weather, and freedom from the religious pre­ judice so often met in Canada. As a result I have made fifty­ two Atlantic crossings, and since each took about one week, one year of my life has been spent on liners. The passages became part of our life, as invigorating as a week by the seashore and just as enjoyable. Generally, we took the longer St. Lawrence route in order to benefit from its protected water and to patronize Canadian shipping, though we did manage to sail as well on many of the biggest liners from New York. My last trip, made in 1953 with my daughter Florence, was as pleasant as the first. Fortunately, I have always been a thoroughly good sailor so that I never missed a meal, even in 1953 when one London 107 stormy morning Florence and I were the only people down for breakfast. In London my wife had many relatives and friends, and before long I was extending my own circle. Some I met through business, some at lunch in the City Carlton Club where there was a special Canadian table for people like my­ self, others at the Savile Club, or through my love for go!£ This last is how I met the future Viscount Samuel. On my way to the Hanger Hill Golf Club one afternoon, I happened to sit down beside him on the top deck of a London bus. We entered into conversation, discovered that we had the same surname, both lived in Porchester Terrace (though on opposite sides) and both were going to the same club. Sir Herbert Samuel was a most distinguished statesman, for many years a member of Lloyd George's cabinet as Postmaster General and Secretary of State for Home Affairs. While I knew him he was appointed High Commissioner to Palestine, and after he received his peerage he became Liberal leader in the House of Lords. At one of our early garden parties at 64 Porchester Terrace, Lady Samuel received with my wife and me, and I remember how gracious she was, and how proud we were. Viscount Samuel was about the same age as I-he was honoured not long ago on his ninetieth birthday-and we agreed that our longevity must be connected in some way with our observance of the Jewish dietary laws. There was another Samuel who had a long and prominent life in the London business world, though as he was somewhat older I never knew him well. This was Lord Bearsted (Sir Marcus Samuel), the business genius who built up the Shell Oil Company from a small import-export house. His father had started the business by importing sea-shells for polishing and setting in the boxes which decorated so many Victorian parlours. We used to have one in our home. As a young man Lord Bearsted entered the petroleum business, which then was 108 In Return mainly in kerosene for use in lamps. He found that his compe­ titors were shipping lamp oil around the world in tin cans, and was struck immediately by the economies that could be effected by bulk transportation. Under his direction Shell built the world's greatest fleet of oil tankers. They were the first designed safely enough to be allowed through the Suez Canal on their way to the Far East, and he equipped them with steam deaning apparatus so thorough that on the return trip they could carry even food stuffs in their holds. With them, Lord Bearsted took over the Asian market from the world-wide Standard Oil monopoly, using as his name and emblem his father's original stock in trade. Two of my closest friends were Sir Robert Mond and his younger brother Sir Alfred, later Lord Melchett. They were the sons of a brilliant German Jew who had come to England as a boy and started a chemical firm of some importance. Under Lord Melchett, who was a great believer in big companies with many lines of enterprise, the family business expanded into the huge Imperial Chemical Industries. I first met the Monds at dinner in the home of Sir Edmund Walker, when they were visiting Toronto in connection with their Canadian interests. Lord Melchett impressed me immediately with his forceful character and wide knowledge of world affairs and men. I soon learned that although his financial and mercantile ramifications were simply enormous, they were not enough to keep him fully occupied. As an ardent Zionist, he founded the Palestine Economic Board, which he invited me to join. One of his ideas for the development of the Holy Land was to extract chemicals from the Dead Sea. He also was a politician of some importance, serving most capably in the Liberal Government as Commissioner of Works and as Minister of Health. It was largely through his influence that I entered British politics. As a philanthropist, he was lavishly generous; no one ever appealed to him unsuccessfully in the name of charity. He was prominent in every field he entered. I don't London believe there was a position he could not have filled, including those of Prime Minister of Great Britain and Governor­ General of Canada. With all this, he was a stiff man, very direct in his speech, and sometimes too sure and stubborn for his own good. Though my relations with him were mainly personal and to a lesser extent Zionist, we did have some business dealings in connection with the fabulously wealthy Mond Nickel Com­ pany mine at Coniston, Ontario. Our firm acted for some time as their sales agents in nickel, and also represented them on the London Metal Exchange. At one point I heard they were planning to sell their mine to the International Nickel Com­ pany of New York. Soon afterwards my wife and I attended one of the musical Sunday evenings Lord Melchett held at his London home, employing the finest talent available. At the end of this particular concert I approached Lord Melchett and offered to act for him in the coming negotiations. ''I'm going to New York anyway in a few days," I told him, "so I'd be happy to meet you there and do what I can from my know­ ledge of your mine and the metal industry. It's something I wouldn't do for any other man, but it won't cost you a penny." I thought I had his good opinion, but he surprised me by saying he already had the services of a bright young man and did not need mine. It was a foolish decision on his part. The next thing I heard was that he apparently had lost his head in New York. The Mond Mine was very valuable-Sir Robert told me it was if anything richer than the fabled mines of King Solomon-yet Lord Melchett let the International Nickel Company put it completely over him. He didn't get more than a fraction of the mine' s worth, and I told him so when he visited Toronto soon afterwards. It may not have been the result of that conversation, but the next thing I knew we had lost the Mond business. Lord Melchett was stubborn right to the end. When he was on his deathbed I suggested that he permit my son-in-law, a very brilliant young surgeon, to 110 In Return examine him. He refused my advice again, because he had the Royal doctor. Two weeks later, he was dead. I found his older brother much warmer and more congenial. Sir Robert was just my age, a remarkably interesting man with whom I had much in common. He had studied chemistry and worked in his father's laboratory for a time. He had also studied French and was as much at home in that language as in English; in fact, his second wife was French. But his principal interests, like mine, were in the art of the past. Both Mond brothers were great art lovers, a characteristic they must have inherited from their parents, who had built up a magnificent collection of paintings. Most of these masterpieces were left by the father to the National Gallery in London, but the trustees were free to dispose of several others as they wished, and I had little difficulty in persuading them that these should be sent to Toronto, half to the Art Gallery and half to the Royal Ontario Museum. Through Sir Edmund Walker and later myself, the Monds donated many other fine pieces to the Museum, including a set of fancy wrought-iron gates. One of the treasures in my Canadiana collection, the original copperplate of a rare engraving of General Wolfe, came from Sir Robert Mond. Though he was interested in the art of every country, Sir Robert's real passion was Egypt. He was simply entranced by the ancient civilizations of the Nile, and contributed greatly to their study by financing expeditions and carrying on con­ siderable field work himsel£ Some of the finest objects he uncovered in this way were kept in his London home, but most found their way to universities and museums around the world, including Toronto. During the twenties he was mainly concerned with an excavation near Luxor, at the burial place of the sacred bulls. One winter he and Lady Mond were planning a visit to the site, and invited my wife, my older daughter Kathleen, and myself to accompany them. The five of us travelled by Channel ferry and train to Italy, then by boat across the Mediterranean. Our first stop was in London III Cairo. The narrow, twisting streets of its Arab quarter, the wrought-iron window lattices, the bazaars and mosques, all fascinated us. Even after we had stopped sightseeing and were resting on the verandah of Shepheard' s Hotel, our eyes were held by the procession of people of all nationalities passing before us-a sight not to be equalled anywhere in the world. One day, Kathleen and I went out into the desert by camel to climb one of the pyramids. Since it was built of blocks about five feet high, we required considerable assistance from our two native companions on the way up and down, but the view from the top was well worth the effort. The route of the Nile stood out for miles. Wherever its waters reached, the valley was green in the midst of an expanse of sandy brown. Then we really understood why people declared that Egypt was the Nile, and the Nile Egypt. After a few days we followed the river up to Luxor, where Sir Robert had three hundred men and boys at work on the "dig." He was very much in his element, and I also spent some time digging in order to be in touch with what was going on. I have a fine scarab as a souvenir of that experience. One day he took us on a short expedition up the Nile to see a sunken temple, whose ancient columns we could still clearly discern in the water as we sailed by. We stopped on the way back at an island where Sir Robert received a very warm welcome. Our hosts there built a fire and roasted a whole lamb, which we proceeded to eat in the native manner with our fingers, washing it down with champagne. Shortly before we left Luxor Sir Robert and I were invited to attend the second opening of Tutenkhamen' s tomb. It had been opened some time earlier by Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter, and had aroused great excitement as the first practically undisturbed burial place of an Egyptian king ever found. But while it yielded many important pieces for the Cairo Museum, its discoverers had made a serious blunder they now were anxious to rectify. At the first formal opening invitations had II2 In Return been extended to the wives of the various dignitaries attending, including the Queen of Belgium. The Arabs, who had their own views on the place of women, were greatly offended. To placate them, the second opening was arranged as an all-male event, and it was this that we saw. During the trip we met Sir Rider Haggard, who was in Luxor with his daughter. I thought of my other well-known literary acquaintance in London and mentioned the saying "When the Rudyards cease their kipling and the Haggards ride no more." He laughed and we got talking about many things. He proved a very interesting companion. At one point the conversation turned to his hero Allan Quatermain. Hag­ gard struck his chest and declared that Quatermain was none other than himsel£ My wife and I had insisted before leaving London that if we were to go to Luxor, the Monds would have to complete the trip by accompanying us to Palestine, to which they agreed. The single-track railroad from Cairo followed the coastline for most of the way before cutting inland to Jerusalem, where Lord Samuel had arranged we should find a warm reception. During our two weeks in Jerusalem and the surrounding area, we were immensely impressed by what the young Jewish pioneers, backed by donations from around the world, were doing to reclaim land left arid for generations. Where under the Turks there had been swamps and rocks, we saw orange groves and fertile fields and wooded forests. I did not fully realize how great the export of citrus fruit had grown until our last day in Palestine. The single-track line to Egypt had been blocked by a sand storm, so that we were forced to return to Alexandria by boat from Tel Aviv. While we were waiting for the steamer in the new Jewish port I was struck by the sight of camels coming down in strings to the coast, each carrying six or eight cases of oranges slung across its back on a strap. I thought suddenly how well these sweet and juicy oranges would do in Canada if they had some London II3 advantage to compensate for the long distance they would have to be shipped. As soon as we got back to Toronto, I began investigating. I learned that most of the oranges entering Canada came from Florida or California, and were subject to a duty of thirty-five cents per cubic foot. Citrus fruit from Jamaica and other British possessions entered duty free, but since Palestine was a mandated territory it could neither enjoy the privileges of Empire nor negotiate a trade agreement on its own. There was no reason, however, why Canada could not make a gentleman's agreement with Palestine to permit free entry to her oranges, and this I persuaded the Liberal govern­ ment to do in the case of direct shipments. When the Con­ servatives gained power in Ottawa, I was able to have the agreement extended to cover all Palestinean oranges, including those trans-shipped at New York, London and other ports. I was told that the news created quite a sensation when it reached Palestine and was telephoned all over the country. The Fruit Growers Association in Tel Aviv sent me the first two cases ofJaffa oranges shipped to Canada as a sign of apprecia­ tion, and I understand that except for the troubles during and after the war, their trade has never stopped. I mentioned earlier that I entered British politics through the influence of Lord Melchett. He was a Liberal for most of his life, but in 1926 he split with Lloyd George over policy and became just as ardent a Conservative. As a businessman he was particularly concerned over Britain's policy of free trade, which he described as free imports, because every potential customer was so heavily protected that there could be no free movement in exports. His alternative was imperial economic unity, free trade within the Empire but a good high protective tariff against all outsiders. A step in this direction was taken with the Ottawa agreements on imperial preference in 1932, but Lord Melchett was not alive to see it. I fell in with his ideas on Empire trade as soon as I heard them. It was evident that Canada would receive the greatest benefits 114 In Return if such a policy was implemented because American firms would establish branch plants in Canada to take advantage of the preference, our good labour force and our cheap water power. As well, Britain would have a better chance in the Canadian market, an important consideration since Canada was already selling the mother country more than she was buying from her, and was diverting more and more trade to the United States. Because I have always rejoiced in anything that is a connecting link between Canada and England, I was only too happy to accept Lord Melchett' s suggestion that I stand for Parliament in the 1929 general election and support these policies. The British House of Commons is the finest club in the world, but that was not the main reason I entered the cam­ paign. In 1929 London was still the heart of the Empire and Westminster in a very real sense was an Imperial Parliament, at which I felt Canada should have more representation. I don't mean by that Canadians who had lived in England so long that they looked upon themselves as English, but Cana­ dians with vital interests at home. I hoped to be Canada's unofficial representative to the Mother of Parliaments, stating her position in every debate that affected her, and in this way serving my country better in London than I could in Ottawa. In April, 1929, my name was one of several presented to the Conservative Association in Lichfield, an old Midland town celebrated for its cathedral and as the birthplace of Dr. Samuel Johnson. At the end of the meeting I was able to cable to my sons in Toronto, "Enthusiastic meeting. Unanimously chosen." My political career was launched. Inevitably the newspapers in Toronto compared me to Disraeli, a man I admired very much, but unfortunately I was not as successful. Lichfield was not an easy seat by any means. The riding was traditionally Liberal, and if anything it was swinging to the left. Birmingham, not far away, was becoming a strong Labour centre, and within the constituency itself there were mining and industrial dis- London 115 tricts which could not be expected to offer me any support. A Conservative had managed to win the last election in 1924, but he had had a straight battle with Labour. I faced two oppo­ nents; Mr. E. B. De Hamel, the Liberal candidate, a popular local manufacturer who employed a large number of workers and was a very capable man; and Mr. J. A. Lovat Fraser, the Socialist candidate, a brilliant London barrister who had bolted the Conservative party some years before. I was pleased to be nominated for such a thoroughly English constituency-I had long since realized that there is more to England than London­ but I thought it would indeed be a personal triumph if I won. From temporary headquarters in the George Hotel in Lichfield, I threw all my strength into the battle. There were only six weeks to prepare and I could count on little support from outside speakers, for the whole election was so bitter that even the leading men could scarcely break away from their own constituencies. I issued the usual printed material pointing to Stanley Baldwin's success against unemployment, his achievements in social security, education, home building and so on-but I also stressed a number of points of my own. These were my imperialist economic policies, the importance of successful business experience, my father's English birth and devotion to the Union Jack, and my own Canadian back­ ground which seemed to appeal to the Englishman's sense of Empire. My Socialist opponent took just the opposite tack and made all sorts of rash promises, including an open declaration that under Ramsay MacDonald the miners would get an eight-hour wage for a five-hour day! Even on the surface that was a ridiculous proposal, certain to drive England's mines out of business in the face of Belgian and German competition. At times the heckling was so bad that I could not get a hearing. Facts didn't mean a thing to some of the people. Once I visited a paper factory and spoke to the manager for a few minutes before asking permission to address his workers. He told me that with a 12! per cent duty on wrapping paper they n6 In Return were running the plant three or four days a week; and that if the duty were raised to 25 per cent, they could wipe out the foreign competition and give the men six days' work a week, without it costing the consumer a penny. When I told this to his employees, they hooted. The manager confirmed what I said, but they simply turned on their heels and marched away singing the "Red Flag." It was the first time I had heard that song but it wasn't the last. These foolish people were hurting their country and themselves through sheer ignorance. In these encounters I was greatly heartened by telegrams of good wishes from old friends in Toronto, and by the sincere warmth of my supporters in Lichfield. They were a help when the election returns were announced. I had made a good showing but I lost the seat, and the party lost the election. One thing that hurt us all was the "flapper" vote, for the ext~nsion of the franchise to all women certainly had increased the Labour ranks. More important in my own case was the three­ cornered nature of the contest. There is no doubt that the Socialist slipped in between the Liberal and myself Lovat Fraser received 14,965, I was second with n,5n and De Hamel had 8,643. If the anti-Socialist vote had not been split, I should have taken most of those eight thousand ballets and kept the seat. Instead, I returned to Canada and within a few days was heading north to spend some time at Harry Mason's cottage. I left Lichfield with happy memories on the whole, and even some humorous ones. Once I was being taken around town by a Mr. Taylor, the proprietor of a very small but comfortable pub called the Dog and Gun, when we encountered Mr. Patterson, the head of the local gas works. They greeted each other in a friendly but jocular fashion. Patterson started it by looking at my friend's most prominent feature and saying, "Your nose is a bright and shining light, like a lighthouse at sea in a dark and stormy night." The publican replied, "Oh no, my nose is really like your gas meters. It registers more than it London II7 consumes." (When I had a chance I favoured Punch with that story too, and I think received ten pounds this time.) Though Labour won the election, they clearly would have to go to the country again in a couple of years at the most. The Lichfield Conservatives asked me to run again, and so between campaigns I spent part of my time in England in the Midlands nursing my constituency. When the election was called I never did run. Ramsay MacDonald had split away from the Labour Party and formed a coalition National Government with the support of some Socialists and the mass of the Con­ servatives. Lovat Fraser followed him. Since the Socialists had nominated a new candidate in Lichfield, I stood down and campaigned for my old opponent so as not to split the anti­ Socialist vote again. Much the same thing happened before the next election in 1935. The local association wanted me as candidate, in fact at one point they threatened to revolt against the National Coalition agreement and run me instead of Lovat Fraser, but while I was grateful I retired once more. Though I was getting on in years by this time, I was anxious to run somewhere else if they would have me. It is better to wear out than to rust out. As it happened there was a nomination open in London, where I had long hoped to find a seat. Not that West Willesden was a very likely Conservative seat, even if there had been no depression. The riding attracted me because it contained a large Jewish cemetery with which I was familiar, and because it would involve dealing with businessmen more like mysel£ On the other hand, it was predominantly industrial, and even though factory production was increasing as a result of Con­ servative-sponsored tariffs, the workers were solidly Socialist. The heckling at campaign meetings was worse than I had met in Lichfield. I would barely have a chance some nights to open my mouth to answer a question before others would be shouted, along with abuse and jeers. In time I came to recognize the same voices night after night. At one meeting they tried to II8 In Return take over the platform, and though I stuck to my guns my agent finally asked me to give it up and the meeting ended to the strains of the "Internationale." At another, the mob broke into "Red Flag" while the rest of us were singing "God Save the King"! Though we put everything into that fight-my wife and our two daughters as well as myself-I don't suppose we ever had much chance of winning. It was the end of my political adventures, and very nearly the end of our time in England. When war came, my wife and I stored the antiques with which we had furnished our home, shipped our collection of Canadian paintings and prints to Toronto, and left to live permanently in Canada. The next time I visited England was in 1953 for the Corona­ tion of Queen Elizabeth II. Number 64 Porchester Terrace had been destroyed by enemy bombs, and when we arrived a huge apartment block was rising in its place. Our furniture also had been destroyed, along with the warehouse in which it was stored. We still had many friends, however, and when Florence and I inserted an advertisement in The Times announcing our arrival, we received many invitations. We also found that my old talent for chancing to make friends in the right quarters was still at work. To the previous Coronation, that of King George VI, both my wife and I had received invitations. This time I received only one, as my dear wife was no longer alive, but I was most anxious to have Florence attend to give me a hand in getting about. This I managed to accomplish in the most extraordinary manner. Immediately after our arrival, two days before the Corona­ tion, I called up to see whether anything could be done in the way of another ticket. The young lady who answered said, as was to be expected, that there simply weren't any more invita­ tions available. She might have added that there were any number of other people, especially Americans, who would have London II9 paid a very handsome price for a ticket if there had been one. On the off-chance that something might turn up, I gave her my name and address. She sounded most surprised. "Are you the Sigmund Samuel who has been sending Christmas cakes to my father all these years?" she asked. Strangely enough, it seems her father was a very senior member of the College of Arms who had helped me in connection with my family coat of arms, and who was one of several people I have remembered in this fashion at Christmas time ever since the severe wartime rationing was imposed in Britain. She said, "Father will be most pleased to hear you are in London. Why didn't you advise him?" I explained that I thought he would be rather too busy at Coronation time to be concerned with overseas visitors, but as it turned out I was wrong. A few hours later I was resting after lunch when a bellboy knocked on the door and announced that a lady was waiting to see me downstairs in the lounge. "Is she pretty?" I asked. I titivated myself as well as I could in a couple of minutes and went downstairs to find the young lady to whom I had been speaking over the telephone that morning. She said, "One of the peers has written to say he is unwell and won't be able to attend the Coronation, so Father put this invitation to one side immediately for your daughter," and she produced the card. Considering that I sent the Christmas cakes to England by ship, you might say this was almost literally a case of casting bread upon the waters, and finding it after many days. ~~~~i:t~~i:t~~

12. Toronto

IN THESE INTER-WAR YEARS divided between London and Toronto, my wife and I loved England with all our hearts, but we were never sorry when it came time to return to Canada. Here we had loyalties and attractive homes, interesting friends and activities, the centre of our business and a pleasant way of life. Immediately on returning from England during the First World War, we were fortunate to find a conveniently located and well furnished house formerly occupied by Fraser Macdonald, a son of the merchant and politician Senator John Macdonald. Fraser Macdonald had died shortly before, and his widow was pleased to find a tenant. The house was Number 140 Madison A venue, close to our first married home and only a few blocks from the University of Toronto Schools, which my sons attended. U.T.S. had been started a few years earlier as a model school for training high school teachers, so that although my plans for an English education for them had fallen through, I knew the boys were learning from the finest masters in Ontario. They spoke particularly of "Tommy" Porter, who Toronto I2I was the general favourite. The University thought so highly of him that some years before he retired they presented him with an honorary LL.D. In 1929, we gave up for good the idea of settling full-time in London and built our own home in Toronto. Madison Avenue was growing older and the neighbourhood was changing, so we moved north to Forest Hill Road, to a new property owned by the Beardmores which was being developed across from Upper Canada College. As architects I chose Sproatt and Rolph, ·both of whom I knew personally and for their professional achievements, and together we planned the finest house we could devise. I personally took the greatest care with the mat­ erials. For the flooring, I was able to obtain battleship teak, the same that the Royal Navy uses for its decks; the baths were brought from England; the plumbing was all copper; and the chandeliers, originally made for candles, were of antique Waterford glass with the distinctive glitter which is said to come only after a century of use. Though there were a great many problems to be solved in construction, and some adjust­ ments to be made after we moved in, building the house proved an immensely interesting occupation, and the effort has since paid handsome dividends. While we were still living on Madison A venue our neighbour was Professor Alfred Baker, who retired from the University in 1919 after a distinguished career as Professor of Mathematics and, towards the end, Dean of the Faculty of Arts. Though he was considerably older than I, we soon became close friends. Like many other successful men of his time, he had a summer place in Muskoka, and invited me each year to spend a week or so with him on the pine-dad island in Lake Rosseau. Up there everybody knew and liked him; on our daily boat trips to Port Carling for the mail and supplies, it was a pleasure to see the local residents greet him warmly wherever he went. In turn I would invite him and sometimes Professor James Mavor, the political economist, and my old schoolfriend William 122 In Return Johnston, to spend a Sunday afternoon at the Caledon Moun­ tain Trout Club. Professor Baker's hobby was collecting books by and about the poet Lord Byron. Usually I could find some­ thing along this line when I was in London, and would try to have some new specimen for him each year when I returned home. When the opportunity presented itself I dedicated my own book, The Seven Years' War in Canada, to him. Professor Baker was very friendly with Sir William Mulock, and on Sunday afternoons the two old gentlemen often would meet to share a glass of whisky and water, to which neither was averse. Before long I began to join my neighbour on these visits. Sir William was a man of great charm, although rather fond of telling lengthy anecdotes from his long career in politics and law. He was already a legend in his own time, and his home was a rendezvous for many prominent people. One was the Rt. Hon. Arthur Meighen, and from time to time he and Sir William and I would get onto the subject of mem­ ory. All of us were gifted in this regard, but Sir William, I think, tended with age to exaggerate his abilities. He used to say he had memorized the entire thirty-two stanzas of Gray's "Elegy" in a single afternoon! The champion really was Mr. Meighen. When the subject came up, we could turn to him and say, for instance, "Gray's Elegy, stanza twenty-two," and without hesitation, he would respond: For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign' d, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind? This verse proved to be particularly appropriate to my old friend, who in 1941 gave up the security of the Senate to run for the House of Commons as his party's leader for the second time, failed to win the election and politically lost all. How he must have been tempted in later years to cast one longing ling' ring look behind! I still can recite the "Elegy" from memory, but I have Toronto 123 always had to start at the beginning and work my way down; Arthur Meighen is the only man I ever knew who could pluck a stanza out of the hat by number. Once he amazed even those of us who knew him well by delivering three lectures on Shakespeare, including long quotations, without once glancing at a note. Another man who is able to speak and quote bril­ liantly on the public platform without any aids but his memory is the present Lieutenant-Governor of Ontario, the Hon. J. Keiller Mackay. I mention him here not only because he has been a good friend to me and to the Jewish people, but because at his home Mr. Meighen and I used to engage in another friendly rivalry. That was to vie in proposing toasts to Mr. Mackay on the occasion of his birthday when he was always at home to his friends. I have been making a point of this matter of memory because it is so essential to success. Early in life I set out deli­ berately to train myself by memorizing portions of music, particularly from Gilbert and Sullivan, and soon knew entire operettas, including The Mikado, H.M.S. Pinafore, The Pirates of Penzance, The Gondoliers, and Trial by Jury. For years after­ wards I quoted from them on appropriate occasions. The results of this training proved extraordinarily important when I got into business, for I always had the facts I needed at my fingertips and could draw on all the experiences of the past. I could never have done so well without a good memory. and I imagine most successful men would say the same. Besides, it has been a source of considerable enjoyment. At one public dinner, I sat beside a young clergyman who was something of a Kipling fan. To pass the time, we began quoting from the Barrack Room Ballads. After a while Kipling himself, who happened to be sitting nearby,joined in. He soon had to admit that I knew his own verses better than he did. I suppose he was always too busy with new ones to remember perfectly the ones already written. Through Professor Baker I came to know Sir John 124 In Return McLennan, the brilliant professor of physics whose work brought great esteem to the University of Toronto. He was a big man, very friendly and kind, though apt to be impatient at times. In his laboratory he was particularly interested in spectro­ scopy, in which I was able to help indirectly; in research at temperatures so very low that gases turned into liquids and solids in his apparatus; in radioactivity and, in the later years especially, the treatment of cancer by radium. During the First World War he had devised an electromagnetic means to detect U-boats, with which the British sealed the Straits of Dover to enemy submarines. When he retired from the Uni­ versity in 1932 he returned to England, where I helped him to find a house near Ascot and introduced him to several people, including the Monds. One day he came to see me in London and reported that his colleagues in Toronto had raised a sum of money to have his portrait painted as a farewell gesture. He was anxious to have it done by Augustus John if that were possible, so I offered to introduce them. They met at my home one fine August after­ noon. Both were tall, handsome men, and you could see they were immediately attracted to each other. After a while I took Mr. John to my upstairs sitting room to discuss the commission. When he named his fee it proved to be somewhat more than the Toronto subscription fund and I undertook to make up the difference. He replied that if necessary he would paint the portrait for nothing, he found Sir John so interesting, but he did accept my offer. The job took him longer than expected: I heard later that he put a foot through the first attempt while drunk, and as a result the portrait was not ready in time for the Royal Academy showing. In 1935 Sir John turned it over to the University of Toronto, where it was unveiled in the library of the McLennan Laboratory before a group of his friends and colleagues. At the time I remarked that although it was interesting as a work of art, no one could depict the subject as his friends esteemed him. Six months later, we were shocked Toronto 125 to hear our great friend had died suddenly on a train in France, while returning from representing Britain at an international scientific conference. The friends I have mentioned, and over the years many others, have gone a long way towards removing the sting of the religious discrimination common in Toronto. Ours must be one of the most quietly bigoted cities in Europe or America. Things are improving-Toronto has had a Jewish mayor for several years and we have many new Provincial laws against discrimination-but there are still feelings against the French­ Canadians, Catholics, immigrants, and of course the Jews. I suppose that the intolerance comes from localism, that Toronto is too far from the sea. It is in countries with great maritime commerce that broad-minded persons are the rule rather than the exception. Through trade such nations meet many different peoples; they learn that in any group there are the good as well as the bad, that it is a man's character and ability and services which matter, not his beliefs or colour. And that is a lesson which can be learned thoroughly only through ex­ perience. Though I have suffered for my religion considerably less than many Jews, life in Canada has often been marred by intolerance. One meets it when applying for accommodation at resorts, in politics and clubs, in newspaper reports, even in the churches. Let me give an example. During the First World War my wife went with a friend to hear a sermon by a well­ known and highly respected clergyman. His subject was the execution of Edith Cavell, which he compared to the cruci­ fixion of Jesus "by the Jews." Public feeling was still very strong, for it was only shortly after the British nurse was shot, and to couple the Germans and the Jews in this manner was most unfortunate and wrong. My wife came home very upset. By the time she had explained it all I was raging. The next morning I was at the minister's door before he finished break­ fast. When I put to him what he had done he apologized quite 126 In Return decently and said he would never talk that way again, but it stands out in my mind as an example of prejudice where it should be least expected. The result is that often the absence of discrimination, rather than its presence, seems remarkable. I have Sir Edmund Walker to thank for an object lesson that not all Toronto minds are closed. During the First World War he was chair­ man of a successful fund-raising campaign for the benefit of soldiers' families, at the end of which he invited his team captains to dinner at the York Club. I was one of them, and after dinner he offered to show me around the club. It was a most welcome thought, for I had often walked past the club on my way home, wondering what was on the other side of the high brick wall which surrounds it. In the course of our tour Sir Edmund suggested I might care to join. I thanked him but refused, explaining that I had just had one bad ex­ perience and had no wish to court another: I had applied for membership in the National Club a few months earlier, also at a friend's suggestion, had waited several weeks, and finally had been turned down because one member objected to my religion. "Oh well," Sir Edmund said, "Surely you' re not going to let that stand in your way? You wouldn't like that club anyway; all they do is talk about money. I'm sure you'll get a different reception here." As President he could not nominate me for the York Club, but he urged me to take home a list of members and choose two friends would would put up my name. From his list I selected Dr. John L. Davidson, my old Model School master and Mr. T. B. Greening, the only man I have ever met who attended the Board school in London with my father. To my delight, they were happy to help. I had cleared the first hurdle, but as time passed without a word I grew increasingly anxious. Finally the suspense became too much and I went down to interview the club secretary, a man named Stanley who had offices in Leader Lane. He greeted me warmly. "I have something for you," he said. "I've been Toronto 127 out of town, or it would have been mailed sooner." He handed me a square envelope. Inside I found a notice that my nomina­ tion had been approved. Mr. Stanley was good enough to add unofficially that it had been passed unanimously and enthu­ siastically. Through Sir Edmund's good offices I had become the first Jewish member of the York Club, which a few years ago went even further and made me an honorary member. He also assisted my reception at the Toronto Hunt Club. Since that time some other Toronto clubs have opened their doors to me-and some have kept them shut. Our company grew steadily during these years. By 1929, it had overflowed the warehouse at King and Spadina and we built a new brick building at the foot of Spadina A venue on Fleet Street. Two years later, Frank Benjamin decided to retire and I bought him out. My patience and persistence, not to speak of my advantage in age over most of the partners, had finally won. I was the sole proprietor of the firm Father had founded. Almost my first act was to change its name from M. & L. Samuel, Benjamin and Company to Samuel, Son & Company. The next major step a few years later was reluctant recogni­ tion of the changing nature of our business. We shut down the London office. As Canada grew more independent industrially, the volume of our imports had correspondingly dropped, so that we were rapidly becoming a service centre in metals pro­ duced domestically. At the same time, our line of goods had shrunk to a few staples, principally sheets of steel and stainless steel, tinplate, copper and zinc. We were still executing orders on the London Metal Exchange in silver and base metals, but the commission business alone could scarcely justify the expense of the London branch. Besides, most of the staff there had grown old in our service and retired, and with Frank out of the firm I could not keep up both offices. I no longer had the strength. Business has always been an absorbing and exciting way of 128 In Return life from which I have derived much pleasure, but it is also a demanding one. Under the pressure of closing a big deal by long distance telephone, at a time when that means of com­ munication was neither as reliable nor as clear as it is today, I would break out in beads of perspiration even in mid-winter. If, as they say, such beads crystallize into pearls for our wives, it is a strenuous transformation for the husbands. That is why I always made a point of having some other equally absorbing interest to which I could escape. For most of my life this was golf, and because of its therapy I never felt an afternoon on the course-even a week-day afternoon-was anything but a sound investment. I had discovered golfwith Harry Mason on one ofour youth­ ful hikes. This particular day we passed a country course, chatted with one of the players, and decided then and there to combine our love of walking and the outdoors with this new game. We started at small clubs in the district, among them one near Casa Loma to which we were introduced by a Mr. A. W. Austin, whom Harry knew from the Metropolitan Church. When the Lambton Golf and Country Club was formed in 1902 with Mr. Austin as President, we followed him there. It was in a beautiful location at the junction of the Black Creek and the Humber River, in hilly country which proved to be as good for winter sports like tobogganing and snow-shoeing as it was for golf the rest of the year. About half a mile down the river was a small hotel, the Lambton Mills, to which we used to walk through pine woods before the club house was built. On the opening day, Mr. and Mrs. Austin invited my wife and myself to join them in the reception line under the trees. On the fiftieth anniversary of that event, I was made an honorary member. In England my golf centred about Hanger Hill and the wonderful old Ranelagh Club. In the days of four-in-hand coaches, Ranelagh was a famous stopping place for royalty on their way to the sea at Brighton. It has long since been gobbled Toronto 129 up by housing, but when I belonged it was still a quiet, formal place to spend a pleasant Sunday out-of-doors with a round of golf in the morning, a special dinner at mid-day and socializing in the afternoon. For those who preferred, there were two polo fields, croquet and tennis on the lawns, rowing on the river or bridge indoors. At tea-time a band played, outdoors under the trees in fine weather. I enjoyed that club immensely. I was never what you would call a very good player-when I broke one hundred it was an occasion for celebration-but once I did represent Lambton in our annual Thanksgiving Day tournament with the Toronto Golf Club. Each team had twenty members. I suspect my name was included because we played at the rival course and I owned one of the few auto­ mobiles in the club, a seven-passenger French touring car with headlights fed by fuel tanks on the running boards. My opponent in the tournament was Mr. Y arker of the Bank of Montreal. Friends warned me he was a tough proposition, likely to get on my nerves, but I determined to do my best. We halved the first hole. On the second I drove right to the edge of the green and sank a twenty-five foot putt. For me it was a freak, just one of the accidents that happen in golf, but it put Mr. Yarker off his stride and the next hole was a tricky one across a swamp. I approached it cautiously, taking two shots to get onto the green. My opponent decided to try a long drive to overcome my advantage, and ended up in the muck. He couldn't recover his ball, so I was two up and from then he never had a chance. At lunch my surprised comrades roundly congratulated me. They had never expected me to win, but I did and after an afternoon round delivered them all home again in my automobile. My other favourite sport was fishing. From boyhood pursuit of perch and sunfish in the lagoons of Toronto Island, I grad­ uated to fly casting for the noble salmon on the Restigouche. Major David B. Pidgeon, Mr. Justice John W. Godfrey and I banded together for this annual challenge in the National 130 In Return Restigouche Salmon Club, with rights to two miles of river and the use of Major Pidgeon's log cabin on a high point surrounded with birch trees. To catch the salmon on their trip upstream to spawn takes skill and patience. I had the patience: either a man is a born fisherman or he is not, and if he is he will sit in a boat for days waiting for a strike. I used to pass the time with snatches from Gilbert and Sullivan until a salmon was sighted. Then skill was needed, and that took longer to acquire. I used to practise fly casting on my lawn in Forest Hill Village before the season opened, sometimes under the tutelage of Tommy Juli, one of the best fly fishermen in Canada, who on several occasions accompanied me to New Brunswick. Eventually I was able to strike almost as many fish as he. The salmon along our stretch averaged eighteen pounds, but there were some considerably larger. One afternoon in the boats our guide spotted a big salmon showing its fm across the river. As quietly as possible we stole across, keeping down current so as not to alarm the fish, but the river was wide and by the time we arrived the salmon had disappeared. Next morning, while we were still at breakfast, a lumber run came down the river past our cabin and two of the crew called to us. They said there was another big salmon, or perhaps the same one, in much the same place. The three of us-Tommy Juli, Major Pidgeon and myself­ jumped up from the table and drew blades of grass to deter­ mine order. The one who chose the longest leaf was to have first cast, and once the fish was hooked each man would have twenty minutes to fight it before passing it to the next. I was number three. Soon we were over at the other side of the river. Major Pidgeon made the first cast. It was taken immediately and the fight was on. By the time my turn came the fish was pretty well exhausted, and by luck or good management I drew it alongside. It was a prime specimen. Back at the cabin, we found it weighed forty-two pounds-no record, but certainly some­ thing to boast of! Toronto IJI Since I was leaving the next day, I had it packed in ice and sent to the Albany Club in Toronto. The next time I saw it, there was a lemon in its mouth and two chefs were escorting it to our table. To do it proper honour, I had arranged a special luncheon for eighteen friends, and even they were unable to get through more than half of it. Each year since then I have repeated the event, though never again with quite so large a main course. For the last eleven years the salmon has been shipped up to me. I had to give up the Restigouche after I turned eighty-three years old. 13. In Return

FROM TIME TO TIME, someone asks how I came to be interested in this or that area of activity outside my family or business. The answer in every case is that it happened through people. A friend or relative has shown me a need, and I have tried to fill it within the limits of my ability. It is no more complicated than that. If there is any credit to philanthropy, these others deserve it as much as I. Foremost among them was Sir Edmund Walker. In his time he was the first citizen of Toronto, revered by all who knew him. He had been born in a backwoods Ontario farm and left school at twelve or thirteen years of age, but he grew up to become President of the Canadian Bank of Commerce, a patron of the arts, and Chancellor of the University of Toronto. He was a man who seemingly never failed. Once at his country home on Lake Simcoe he showed me a barn full of fine cattle. "I never would have thought that was your line, Sir Edmund," I said to him, "but whatever you lay your hands to, you make a success of it." After Goldwin Smith left In Return 133 his home to Toronto for an art gallery, it was Sir Edmund who organized the implementation of that dream and engaged my interest and that of many others. When he was appointed to the University's Board of Governors, as a self-made man he met a rather austere reception, but by the time he retired as its Chairman he had wiped out a deficit and put the University on a solid financial footing. He was the father of the Royal Ontario Museum, to which he gave initial encouragement and sub­ sequently much time and money, along with a connoisseur's delight in its treasures. Having so great an interest in com­ munity activities himself, it was only natural that he should try to attract his friends, with the result that whenever we met the conversation would turn to some project at the back of his mind with which he needed help. He treated me like a son who would continue some of the work he had started so well. Since his death in 1924 I have tried to be loyal to his belief that those who prosper from the community have some responsi­ bility to it and to the coming generation. This was certainly in my mind one afternoon in 1933 at a meeting of the Museum's Board of Trustees, when Dr. H.J. Cody, the President of the University, read us a long letter he had received from Bishop William C. White, the Anglican Bishop of Honan Province in China. During a short furlough in Canada the previous summer, Bishop White had discussed the possibility of starting a Department of Chinese Studies at the University. Dr. Cody had asked him to do what he could to build up a Chinese library, the first requisite for any such course, and soon after his return to Honan the Bishop had dis­ covered a collection beyond his most optimistic dreams. He wrote that a large private library, perhaps the finest in Peking, was up for sale at a fantastically low price. It had been gathered together by a wealthy scholar, Mr. H. H. Mu, who for many years was Chinese secretary at the German legation in Peking. Mr. Mu had died, the family banking fortune had been des­ troyed in the civil war, and his son was forced to dispose of the 134 In Return books to raise some money. Bishop White had learned of it, during a brief business visit to Peking, through a good friend who wanted to buy the library but lacked the funds. Other experts from France and the United States also were anxious to purchase at least some volumes, but the younger Mu was quite firm: he was prepared to sell the collection at one-third the market value, but only on condition that it be preserved intact at an institution of learning as a memorial to his father. Bishop White had jumped at the opportunity. He and Dr. John C. Ferguson, a brother of the premier of Ontario and an expert on Chinese art, who was then in Peking, were meeting a portion of the cost. For the rest, the Bishop appealed to Dr. Cody to find one or two donors in Toronto. He said in his letter that he could only begin to list the riches of this wonderful library. It consisted of 49,000 volumes in all, many of them old and fragile, some of them in scrolls, the rest bound in the Chinese manner and in many cases stored in specially fitted wooden boxes. There were classics and histories, poetry, philosophy, and a set ofimperial edicts bound in yellow silk with the emperor's dragon emblem. Some of the volumes were eight hundred years old. One particularly fine item was an encyclopaedia complete in ninety-six volumes, printed from wood blocks in the time of Marco Polo! Coming on top of his glowing general description, these specific examples intrigued me. It was evident what a prize this would be. From nothing we would advance in a single step to a collection with few equals in the world, but to my amazement the other members of the Board were unwilling to offer more than token support. After the meeting I approached Dr. Cody and said, "I will be leaving next week for England, where we have a mutual Jewish friend who might be interested. As a businessman, I am asking for an option." He replied, "I quite understand. You have the option," meaning, of course, that no one else would be permitted to participate in acquiring the library until I had at least made an attempt. In Return 135 As soon as my wife and I arrived in London I repaired to Sir Robert Mond' s flat to read him the Bishop's letter. He agreed immediatdy to join me in this gift. Some time pre­ viously he had been appointed an honorary Trustee of the Royal Ontario Museum and since then, he explained, he had been seeking some method as suitable as this to show his appreciation. To guarantee he would not change his mind, I picked up the telephone immediately and cabled Currelly, "L'b1 rary fi nance d". A day or two later I went around to the British Museum and interviewed the Deputy Keeper of their Oriental printed books and manuscripts, Professor Lionel Giles. He proved most charming, and enthusiastic over our good luck. That great centre of knowledge had been trying to complete its set of the fifteenth-century encyclopaedia for years, and still had only seventy of the ninety-six volumes. A few items of that nature were worth the cost of the entire collection, which would increase further in value as time went on, Professor Giles explained. He predicted correctly that once the extent of Toronto's library became known, it would attract students from all over the world. The library was paid for, but many more difficulties had to be met before the first student used it. First the volumes had to be catalogued in Peking, a job which took more than a year, then packed in sixty tin-lined, iron-banded cases and marked with both Chinese and English shipping instructions. Just about this time the Chinese Government added further complications by banning the export of all ancient books, and it was only because of the great services previously rendered by Bishop White and Dr. Ferguson in times of flood and famine that an exception was permitted. Even so, it was a miracle that the cases made their way safely through the chaos and strife of those days without loss or damage. Finally they arrived in Toronto-only to be put in storage, alas, wasting their sweetness on the basement air. Though we searched every 136 In Return part of the Museum, the original wing as well as the new extension which had recently been built along Queen's Park, no place suitable for display and study could be discovered. In this predicament it occurred to me that a small new wing to the Museum could be built up to the level of the third floor galleries which held the bulk of the Chinese collection, and that in this way library space, specially designed to meet the needs of the Chinese Department, could be provided in the most convenient location. The Board took up the matter vigorously with the Ontario Government, and received en­ couragement but no firm commitment. Perhaps unwisely, we put the Province down anyway for the cost of the lower storeys, which would be used for classroom and office space. We continued pressing the Cabinet for the money, on the grounds that a grant to the Museum, one of the Province's finest assets, would be no expenditure but an investment. It was to no avail. I had already committed myself for a certain sum to help build the wing, but it was considerably short of the total needed. Taking the bull by the horns, I wrote to Sir Robert Mond, pointing out that he had already been most generous, particularly considering the thousands of miles of ocean which separated him from Toronto, but that if he would open his purse once more and cable me a certain word, I would be much obliged. Though I did not really expect a positive answer, it seemed no time before I received his telegraphed reply, "Agreed." Dr. J. B. O'Brian, the Chairman of the Museum Board, was trying to raise the rest of the money from other people, but with so little success that in a moment of despera­ tion I raised my own contribution. The next day a telephone call from the Parliament Buildings announced that the Legis­ lature had just approved a bill giving the Museum the necessary funds, but for my part it came twenty-four hours too late. On November 5, 1937, four-and-a-half years after the first communication arrived from Bishop White, the library was In Return 137 opened. For many years it has served not only scholars but also the general public, who make frequent visits to discover details of Chinese art and costume and history, and even such things as kite-flying. In 1961, in view of increasing interest in Chinese studies at the University, the collection was moved from the Museum to the new Arts Building named after my old friend Dr. Sidney Smith. While the library was still being built, Bishop White retired from the Church and returned to Toronto as Professor of Chinese Studies and Keeper of the East Asiatic collection of the Royal Ontario Museum. There he continued to work among the frescoes and other art objects which he had loved so much in the East, and had helped so greatly to obtain for Canada. We became quite good friends; in fact, he told me I was the best Christian he had ever met! For many years, almost up to his death in 1960, he wrote books and articles about Chinese art. One of his pet projects was the history of a group of Chinese Jews who lived in the province that had been his see. It appears that the ancestors of these Jews had followed the caravan routes eastward in Roman times to engage in the silk trade between Asia and Europe, had settled in the city of K' ai-feng, Honan, and had built a synagogue. Though they eventually inter­ married with Chinese women and assumed the characteristic features of that country, for centuries they observed their religion, abstaining from pork, practising circumcision, keeping Saturday as the Sabbath and preserving the sacred scrolls in the holiest part of their temple. By the time Bishop White learned of them, the synagogue had been destroyed but he managed to preserve from it two fine memorial stones and some beautiful stone bowls. Two of the bowls and a replica of one of the stones are in the Royal Ontario Museum. He also wrote the most detailed history ever prepared of these people, using books written in both Chinese and Hebrew, some of them from the Mu Library which he had obtained for us. One family he traced over eighteen generations was named Li, which he 138 In Return thought originally must have been Levi. He told me once that the Honan Jews believed they were the only Jews in the world; I replied how surprised they would be if only they could visit New York! As a result of this friendly relationship and a natural interest in the subject, I was quite anxious to help when it came time to publish the three volumes of his history, the last of which he was kind enough to dedicate to me. I had several other friends at the Museum: Charles Currelly, who was helped considerably as a young man when my wife introduced him to the Monds; Gerard Brett, who succeeded him; and Professor W. A. Parks, Sir John McLennan's brother­ in-law, who was the first Director and builder of the Royal Ontario Museum of Palaeontology. From time to time they brought to my attention valuable items which they thought correctly I might find attractive. Once it was a unique Viking sword which had been dredged in 1900 from the Thames River mud, after lying buried for a thousand years near Vauxhall Bridge in central London. The workman who found it was carrying it home tucked under his arm when a gentleman stopped him and bought the sword for a shilling. After that it passed from hand to hand for thirty years, always growing in value, for it was an extraordinarily handsome specimen with perfect balance and superb decoration on the handle. The gold and silver inlay work is so delicate that even the cleverest jewellers today have said they doubt they could duplicate it. Another time there was a wonderful collection of Chinese textiles and rare court robes, including some with peacock feathers woven into the cloth. For many years there was the Museum's summer programme for children, in which I was greatly interested because of the lifetime value of my own youthful experience. And there have been other areas in which I have been able to prove of help. Perhaps the strangest honour which has befallen me as a result of these interests came from Professor Parks, who gave my name to a dinosaur. Struthiomimus Samueli is something of a In Return 139 dwarf, only ten feet long from its bird-like head to its tail, but Dr. Parks told me it was a very rare find and that in view of its fragile bones he had been exceptionally lucky to discover a specimen so well preserved. I responded that it was only fitting that he should name a dinosaur after such an old fossil! As these exchanges indicate, I found a great deal of personal pleasure in my relations with the Royal Ontario Museum, in no small part because of the encouragement I received from the staff. What I have done, and the contacts I have made there, have not been a work of particular effort on my part. Rather they remind me of the Biblical saying that it is more blessed to give than to receive. I have really received more from the Museum than I ever gave to it, because it has brought me together with men of great learning and, I might say humbly, of similar tastes to myself It would have been unnatural had I not followed my parents' dedication to Holy Blossom Synagogue. Like them, I was privileged to lead a campaign for funds for a new home, the present Temple on Bathurst Street, and in Father's footsteps I served for many years as Vice-President and more recently as Honorary President of the congregation. To their memory there stands in the Temple a stained glass window. My dear wife is commemorated by a silver menorah, or candelabra, presented on the one hundredth anniversary of the con­ gregation. Over the years I joined with others in Jewish community welfare activities, and these sometimes brought moments of humour as well as of satisfaction. At one meeting of the benevolent committee, we were approached by a poor man who had a chance for a job the next day if he could present a decent appearance. He looked about my size, so I told him to go to my house after the meeting and I would rig him out with some clothes. We found a presentable suit, then a shirt and tie, a straw hat since it was the summer time, and finally a pair of hoots, but he acted as if he expected more. At last I suggested 140 In Return that he leave. 'Just a minute!" he replied. "It's fine to have all these clothes, but surely you don't expect me to carry them away like this. Where's a valise?" Another time the committee set up a recent arrival from Europe in business selling coal oil, which was still used for lighting and fuel in the east end of Toronto. We got him a little pushcart and bought him his first barrel of oil, and expected that that would be the last we would see of him. Within a few weeks he was back, asking for help to get into another line. "What is wrong with the one you are in?" we asked. He said, "It isn't bad-but who can compete with Standard Oil?" If it was my parents' footsteps that I followed to Holy Blossom, it was my daughter's which drew me to one of my oldest interests, the Toronto Western Hospital. When she was about eight years old Florence and her brother Norman, who has always loved machinery-he later became an engineer­ were playing with the washing machine in the basement of our home. Somehow she got her fingers caught in the cogs of the wringer mechanism. Her mother rushed her to the Toronto Western Hospital, where they treated her so well that next day I visited the director to express my gratitude and ask whether there was something I might do in return. Before long I was invited to join the Board of Governors, on which I have served ever since, eventually as President and then Honorary Presi­ dent. It has been a most enjoyable relationship, particularly the Christmas staff parties which I have rarely missed. The Hospital had not yet put up the first of its present buildings when I joined its Board, but since then it has grown steadily. When I left Toronto to visit the Restigouche in 1949, a capital funds campaign was in the offing and one Sunday afternoon Tommy Jull and I took the boat to visit two of my fellow Governors, Gordon Leitch and Stanley McLean, who had a cabin on an upstream branch of the river. Over quite a substantial tea we got talking about the campaign plans. They told me that because of long service on the Board, I would be In Return 141 expected to put up only one-quarter the subscription of other members. I rose to that as quickly as any salmon to a fly. I was not to be outdone, I assured them-and the result was a new radiology wing named after my dear wife. On the way back to our camp that day, Tommy Jull remarked that it was the most expensive tea he had ever enjoyed! As a lover of old books, I have long been on the watch for specimens which might be added to my own collection ofCana­ diana, or for one reason or another would be of value to the University of Toronto. For example, when I came across a 1570 edition of Euclid's geometry and learned that it was the first English translation, I sent it along to the University Library-although I had never had the opportunity myself to study his theorems. On another occasion I was able to act as a middleman for the University. My older daughter Kathleen, who lives with her husband in England, sent me a clipping from The Times about the death of Sir Robert Mand, on the back of which there chanced to be an article about the recent discovery of a library which had belonged to Sir Isaac Newton. I had long been interested in Newton as a result of my friend­ ship with Sir John McLennan-to decorate the University of Toronto's McLennan Laboratory I had presented a bust of the seventeenth-century genius and a large original volume of his Principia-and I thought immediately of obtaining some of his books for Toronto. The books, however, belonged to the Crown, which in turn had offered them to Trinity College, Cambridge, where Newton had been a student and Fellow. The case seemed hopeless, but I wrote to the Master of Trinity, G. M. Trevelyan, with a counter-proposal: if they could not turn over any of the volumes from Newton's library, would they at least present to a sister university some of the books already in their collection which were duplicated in his? Professor Trevelyan agreed. Seven books, published between 1608 and 1720, packed in zinc-lined boxes to preserve them from damp, eventually made their way across the Atlantic from Cambridge to the University of Toronto. 142 In Return I was able once to help Professor McLennan in a more practical way. During a visit in the 192o's he remarked that he had gone just about as far as he could along one particular line ofresearch. To continue, he needed one of the most powerful spectroscopes in the world, so sensitive that he would be able to distinguish between fine spectral lines only thirty billionths of an inch apart. It was an act of simple friendship on my part to respond. He ordered the spectroscope from England and with it, I am proud to think, he carried out research which won him his highest scientific honour, the Royal Medal of the Royal Society of London. So many old friends at the University have passed away, but I have kept up personal ties with the campus which I never knew as a student. My close companions have been Dr. Samuel Beatty, the former Dean of Arts and Chancellor of the University; Professor H.J. C. Ireton, who worked closely with McLennan as a young man and after a long career in physics now is Assistant to the President; and Professor N. E. Sheppard, who for many years has been a senior member of the Mathematics Department. One of my great friends was the late Dr. Sidney Smith, through whom I was appointed to the Board of Governors. Dr. Smith phoned me one day in 1951 to say that the Uni­ versity was very concerned about its library facilities. The old library had been built fifty years earlier and now was far too small, he told me. Its shelves couldn't begin to hold all the books that the University owned, with the result that thousands of volumes were wasting away in cartons in the basements of other buildings, and more were being packed away as new books were bought. Plans for a new library had been drawn up for some time, but there was not enough money to imple­ ment them. Then he said, "If we could raise $250,000 we could at least start the building. If we could find $500,000 we would be able to finish it." That night I talked it over with my wife, who always sup- In Return 143 ported these interests of mine as well as a considerable number of her own. She was all for giving the larger amount. I couldn't help saying to her that she was being mighty generous with my money, but she smiled and said, "I know what is best for you." At the office next day Mr. Pepall agreed with her, so I called Dr. Smith and said I was coming around to see him. When I told him he would be able to finish the building, he hugged me and said, "You are the best friend I ever had!" That is really the story of my philanthropy: the example and friendship of outstanding people, and a need to be filled. What honours have come my way in the process-and there have been many-have meant little beside the spontaneous gratitude of such men as Sidney Smith, and the pleasure of having helped the community through their work. ~~~~~~~~~~ 14. Collecting

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AS A BOY at the Model School under Dr. Davidson and as a youth devouring Parkman' s histories, I had resolved, if ever it were possible, to own my own selection of the contemporary records to which both men referred so vividly. That oppor­ tunity came when we moved to London. In Toronto there had been no early Canadiana available, for reasons easy to understand. The pioneers who built up our country had little time for the amenities of life: their days were spent in clearing the land and in the struggle for survival, and in leisure our forefathers' eyes turned, not inwards, but across the Atlantic to their former homes. The men who have left us views of pre­ Confederation Canada were for the most part visitors who sent their work to Europe or took it back with them. There, in private homes, in the dealers' shops of London, and to a lesser extent of Paris, it lay for a century or more unnoticed. The greater part of these artist-visitors were British officers who had learned sketching at the Royal Military Academy. Collecting 145 When their skill was not required for war, they turned to it for amusement in quiet garrison towns, or to set down their impressions of this new country for the benefit of relatives and friends at home, as we might send snapshots today. Such men are well represented in my collection. Among them were Captain Hervey Smyth, General Wolfe's aide-de-camp whose St. Lawrence prints hang in my home; Richard Short, the purser of H.M.S. Prince of Orange, who left us an invaluable set of views of the destruction in Quebec City caused by the British naval bombardment which preceded Wolfe's attack; Lieutenant George B. Fisher, aide to the Duke of Kent, Queen Victoria's father, when he was Commander-in-Chief in Nova Scotia in the 179o's; and Major-General J. P. Cockburn, a prolific water colourist whose detailed pictures of Quebec are among the finest records we have of that city during the 183o's when he was stationed there as a Lieutenant-Colonel in the Royal Artillery. As a result of the comparative indifference which these artists met, I was able to obtain a set of twelve line engravings taken from Short's views of Quebec, still in the original wrapper in which the printer had sent them out of his shop! There were also distinguished civilians, amateur artists like George Heriot, Deputy Post-Master General of British North America in the early nineteenth century, and a handful of professionals including Bartlett and the most famous today of them all, Cornelius Krieghoff. Their work, and that of the officers, often would be taken up by engravers in England and printed for separate sale or to illustrate books. Sometimes the engravers attempted to improve upon the work of the man who was actually on the scene, and in such cases particularly the original drawing is much more valuable to the historian than any prints from it. Then there is another whole class of pictures which resulted completely from the imagination of the artist. The most famous of these is Benjamin West's painting In Return of the "Death of Wolfe," a totally fictitious rendering which includes people who were not even at the battle-but paid their way into the picture! The bulk of early Canadian pictures date from the Seven Years' War and afterwards. French officers were not trained as artists, nor were many of the other adventurers who crossed to New France. Luckily there were a few exceptions, including Father Hennepin, the first white man to see the Mississippi River. He was responsible for the first landscape picture of Canada, a view of Niagara Falls which was printed in a book of his adventures in 1698. The three small Bartlett prints bought to celebrate the pur­ chase of our lease soon had many neighbours on the walls of our London home. From collecting stamps it was an easy step to collecting prints, at first black and white, then hand coloured, and from there to move on to water colours and finally oils. One of my most valued guides at this time was Dr. J. Clarence Webster of Shediac, New Brunswick, the foremost collector of Maritime Canadiana, whom I used to visit when I was in the area fishing. As time went on I weeded out the poorer speci­ mens to build up a collection worthy of the name. So many friends, particularly Canadians who visited us in England, were interested in these pictures that eventually I conceived the idea of having them reproduced on slides for public showing and, to relieve the pitiful ignorance of Canadian history I met every­ where, used these slides frequently during the 193o's on both sides of the Atlantic. I lectured with them to the Royal Cana­ dian Institute in Toronto, at Cambridge University, before the Royal Empire Society and the English-speaking Union in London, and once even in mid-ocean aboard the Empress of Britain. Usually the talk ended with an illustrated travelogue of the route in the 183o's from Quebec to Niagara Falls and back east to Boston, based on Bartlett's sketches. At the urging of friends I also began to catalogue the collec­ tion, but that work rapidly turned into something more Collecting 147 exciting. To more than one hundred of my pictures, I added extracts collected from original manuscripts and old news­ papers, the whole forming a unique contemporary account of the war which brought Canada into the British Empire. The task of compilation took two or three years, but the subject was of such magnitude and the documents of such compelling interest that it totally absorbed me. When The Seven Years' War in Canada was published in 1934, the book reviewers expressed considerable surprise that a Jewish businessman should also be an historian, but the Royal Historical Society was sufficiently interested to elect me a Fellow. The project of the catalogue had to wait another twelve years before it was taken up by the great Canadian historical artist, C. W. Jefferys. When war threatened in 1939, and the danger of bombing was pressing, we reluctantly gave up our London residence for the second time, stored the furniture and sent to Toronto our books and silver, and of course the Canadiana collection. It was soon obvious that there was no room in our Forest Hill home for all the paintings and prints. After years of trying to pass on to the public my own fascination with early Canada through copies of my pictures, this seemed the time to present to the community the collection itself The logical home for it was the Royal Ontario Museum. They too proved to be short of space, though a large addi­ tion, more than doubling the original structure, had been completed along Queen's Park only a few years previously. I overcame that by building at the southwest corner of the Museum a new room large enough to show one hundred pictures at a time. While the entire collection could never be displayed at once, it appeared this would be a satisfactory permanent home. Before the war broke out, work was already under way, and the gallery was opened in 1940. Now that the collection was in the public domain, available to every schoolboy and student of history, I found it a more absorbing interest than ever. Sixty years after the seed had been In Return planted in Model School, my hobby was coming into full flower. Canadian history had been told frequently enough in books; the gallery offered a new dimension-a visual dimen­ sion-which would attract ever greater numbers of people and instil in them, I hoped, my own love for the story of our wonderful country. Nothing gives a more vivid impression of the past than scenes and people as they looked to artists of their own time, and so I proceeded to add to the collection views of the countryside, illustrations of the transportation and com­ munications of a century ago, and portraits of the men and women who have been prominent in our past. It seemed my mission in life was to interest people in the history of Canada. I devoted more and more time to the collection, and corre­ spondingly less to business. By 1946 the problem of space was again acute; there were far too many pieces which could not be displayed. I had obtained, for example, more than one hundred of Cockburn's wonderful water colours, only six of which could be seen at any one time. There was a unique collection of original letters from the kings of France and their viceroys and intendants in New France, which also could not be shown in full. Scores of other items were hidden at least part of the time from the public. Among them were several portraits; a prized print of the Indian chiefJoseph Brant; a set of fifteen prints of the construction of Montreal's Victoria Bridge in 1859; rare pre-Revolutionary views of America; and many unusual prints of early scenes in Toronto, Montreal, Quebec and other Canadian cities. There was only one answer. I began to discuss enlarging the display space with Mr. Robert Fennell, the chairman of the Museum Board. At first we considered building onto the original Canadiana Gallery to double its area. Because I was anxious to find a location more centrally located in the Museum, as well as larger, we turned next to plans for a whole new wing on the main floor, stretching northward into the courtyard from the armour gallery, opposite to what was then Collecting 149 the Chinese Court. An agreement for its construction was actually drawn up before I hit upon the final solution in the spring of 1947. That was to house in one new building my own gallery and the Provincial Archives, which I had heard were badly in need of new quarters. The most satisfactory site appeared to be on Queen's Park Crescent, directly west of the Parliament Buildings and behind the University of Toronto Library. There followed a rush of telephone calls and letters to Mr. Fennell, Premier George Drew, Leslie Frost, who was then Provincial Treasurer, and Colonel Eric Phillips, the Chairman of the University's Board of Governors. Within a very few months final agreement was reached to build a handsome stone structure, to be occupied by the Canadiana Gallery on the ground floor and the Archives on the upper two storeys, with the cost to be shared by the Province and mysel£ While plans were still being drawn up I increased my original donation to permit the floor space to be expanded further, and endowed the gallery to provide for its maintenance in perpetuity. By the time excavations began, the space problem was even more serious. Gerard Brett wrote that storage racks and cup­ boards in the old building were filled to bursting point with my prints and that many of the larger works, together with a new lot of seventeen pieces, were stacked on the print room floor. He suggested that until the new gallery was built, I might consider storing any new acquisitions in my home. Meanwhile, I was deeply concerned with the plans for the new building. One feature which demanded particular care was the selection of the statues which decorate its eastern face. From portraits in the collection, Miss Jacobine Jones has depicted in Queenston limestone four men who typify the qualities of all those who have made Canada, from earliest times to the present day. The first is Samuel de Champlain, the founder of Quebec, a man of vision and courage to whom news of unknown rivers and lakes was a personal challenge. He typifies, first, the spirit of exploration and, second, the 150 In Return contribution of the French regime to our early life. As much as anyone he also typifies the heroism by which the first pages of Canadian history were written. The second is Major­ General James Wolfe, our national hero, who started his military career as a young boy and died before Quebec at the age of thirty-two. On the Plains of Abraham he was twice wounded and refused to leave the field. The third wound proved fatal but he held out until, hearing that the French were in retreat, he gave his final orders and said, "Now God be praised, I will die in peace." While he also typifies the spirit of heroism, to my mind he particularly represents that selfless devotion to duty which was the second of the great qualities manifested in the history of our country. Next came the need for administrative unity, and so the third figure is of Governor John Graves Simcoe, who built up a code of administrative principles and precedents to guide Canada's future growth. The fourth figure is of General Isaac Brock, the ' hero of Queenston Heights. In 1812 Canada was growing and pros­ perous, but not yet united. Brock's leadership of Canadian forces in defence of their own country did as much as any­ thing to create a consciousness of Canadian citizenship. Men have been great in Canadian history to the degree to which they have given of these noble qualities, and it was because of these four men and others like them that our country today is one of the most promising in the world. Construction of the new gallery took longer than had been anticipated, but by April, 1951, the collection was being moved from the main Museum building. The first to see it in its new home were the Governor-General and Lady Alexander; I was particularly anxious they should have a preview during a vice­ regal visit to Toronto that May. The formal opening on June 19th was performed by the Rt. Hon. Vincent Massey, then Chancellor of the University. Though we had no outside sign for some months, visitors began to come at once in large numbers. To ensure that lack of money would never bar Collecting 151 anyone from enjoying the past, I stipulated in the deed of gift that admission to the Canadiana Gallery would always be free of charge. The Gallery now was of a size to require considerable expert supervision. Mr. F. St. George Spendlove had been caring for the collection on a voluntary basis for the previous six or seven years. He had been trained in fine arts, had come to the Museum as Bishop White's assistant in 1936 and had later become curator of its modern European and East Indian collections. In 1952, he was appointed full-time curator of the Canadiana collections. His advice and knowledge have been of the greatest importance in the successful expansion of the collection, particularly in recent years when I have been able to devote less energy to finding new acquisitions. As for the original room I added to the Royal Ontario Museum, it still houses Canadiana-a display of Quebec furniture and silver collected by the Museum's staff, including an entire room carried from an old house in St. Jean Port Joli. It is not hard to guess what happened next. Within four years of the opening of the new building, we were again seriously short of space. It had taken only that long to acquire sufficient new items to fill a gallery twice the size of the existing one. In 1955, work began on an addition to double the floor space, with an exhibition gallery for temporary shows on the main floor and a permanent portrait gallery below it. They were opened on March 22, 1955, by the Hon. J. Keiller Mackay, Lieutenant-Governor of Ontario. The extension made it pos­ sible to show one-sixth of the Canadiana collection at one time-but since then, of course, new items have been added. ~~~~ 15. Canadiana

KRIEGHOFF's COLOURFUL PAINTINGS of French-Canadian and Indian life have always attracted me greatly, and because most people seem to feel the same way one of the first exhibits in the new Canadiana Gallery was devoted to his work. Just about this time a London dealer offered me an interesting sketchbook which he was prepared to sell at very little profit. Imagine my pleasure when Mr. Russell Harper, the Museum's chief cata­ loguer, announced that it was almost certainly a unique souvenir of Krieghoff! The subject-matter and treatment of the thirty-eight water-colours had given Mr. Harper the first clues to the artist's identity, and analysis of the handwriting under the sketches and the faded initials "C.K." on the inside cover made it certain. It appears Krieghoff used the sketch­ book from 1850 to 1852, at a time when, miserably poor, he was forced to work for a sign painter in the Beaver Hall area of Montreal. Only one other painting for these years is known, so that the sketchbook, in addition to its insights into the Canadiana 153 general life of the time, fills in a part of the artist's own life which was completely blank. It is adventures like this which make collecting such a fascinating business. It has never lost its attraction over a life­ time-not even when I was laid up in hospital, for I have picked up fine pieces from a sick bed-and I wish only that I had another ninety-five years to devote to it. Most of the items in my collection have come from dealers in London and New York. Some others have been offered by persons who, for one reason or another, were prepared to sell old pictures which had been passed down in their families. Occasionally, I have set out on my own after a particularly desirable item. One such was a portrait by Sir Peter Lely of the dashing cavalier Prince Rupert, first Governor of the Hudson's Bay Company. As soon as I heard of its existence I resolved that the Gallery should have it, but considerable time passed before I was able to trace the owner and persuade him to part with such a valuable possession. He finally agreed solely in order to make the painting available to thousands of Canadian school children brought up on tales of the Hudson's Bay Company. To give it added meaning for their benefit, I obtained a copy of the Company's Royal Charter to hang alongside. A year later I bought the companion portrait by Lely of Rupert's cousin, King Charles II, who granted the charter. While the principal reason for acquiring any item for the collection has been its connection with Canada's past, I have always sought a high quality of artistry as well. Gilbert Stuart is represented by a portrait of George, Marquis Townshend, Wolfe's brigadier who accepted the surrender of Quebec; Sir Joshua Reynolds by a painting of John Andre, the British major who negotiated with Benedict Arnold for the surrender of West Point; and George Romney by one of Paulus Aemilius Irving, commander of the 15th Regiment at the Battle of the 154 In Return Plains of Abraham and later President and Administrator of the Province of Quebec. (The sword Irving carried at Quebec, also in the collection, was presented to me some time ago by Mr. J. B. Tyrrell.) With these and other examples in mind I approached Earl Amherst in 1954 to obtain the family portrait by Reynolds of his illustrious ancestor Sir Jeffery Amherst, Commander-in-Chief of British forces in North America during the Seven Years' War. A print taken from this portrait already hung in the Gallery, but I was especially anxious to have the original because Amherst was such a remarkable general. His terms for the surrender of Montreal, coming at the end of a long campaign which had been marred by the most horrid cruelties on the part of France's Indian allies, are an extraordinary example of humanity; not only did he take Montreal without loss of life, but he permitted every prisoner to embark for France with full military honours, on condition only that none carry arms again during the rest of the war. These terms are recorded in an eighteenth-century manuscript in the collection. Unfortunately the Amherst family treasured the portrait as much as I; they would not part with it. I had to be satisfied with an engraving of another portrait. In collecting, as on the Restigouche, not every fish is caught. As it happened, I was just home from the Restigouche when I made the biggest strike of my collecting career-and the hardest to land. I had been trying for years to find a representa­ tion of General Wolfe worthy of his role in Canadian history. Because he was so young when he died, portraits from life are extremely rare. Only two or three were known, of which one, painted by Joseph Highmore, was already in the National Gallery in Ottawa. Many posthumous portraits were made after the fall of Quebec, but these were not as valuable his­ torically, nor was I able to obtain the two outstanding examples by West and Gainsborough. Their owners were adamant that they would not sell. Neither could I obtain copies of two very Canadiana 155 fine statues of Wolfe in which I was interested. I was becoming resigned to failure, though far from giving up, when I returned home from the Maritimes in 1952 to find a letter awaiting me from W. Kaye Lamb, the Dominion Archivist. He reported that a London dealer had uncovered a second portrait of Wolfe painted from life by Highmore, that it had been offered to him, that the Government did not want it, but that he thought that I might be interested. Interested was hardly the word! I received his letter on Dominion Day. Although it was a holiday I called Spendlove immediately. Then I placed a call to London and bought the portrait on the spot. The next day I confirmed the purchase by mail and, in the normal routine, a week or so later had a reply from the dealer that the picture was ready to pack. He was waiting only for an export licence from the Board of Trade. The next thing I knew I had a letter from Mr. G. K. Adams, Director of the National Portrait Gallery in London, asking me to relinquish my treasure. He wrote that after two centuries in obscurity the second Highmore portrait had caught his gallery completely by surprise. They had had no idea it existed until they were asked to pass upon the application for an export licence, and that since one copy was already in Canada, they felt that the second should remain in England. If I refused to tum over the painting, he made it clear, I would never get permission to take it out of the country. I was never one to back away from a fight, particularly when the prize was an answer beyond all expectations to a dream of years. I replied that I had no intention of giving up the portrait and begged Mr. Adams in turn to let it go. In that and many subsequent letters I argued that to the English Wolfe was only one in a long pageant of military figures, but to Canadians he was the national hero. There would be far greater interest in his portrait on this side of the ocean than in Britain; besides, In Return there were many other portraits of equal importance already in England. Mr. Adams, of course, disagreed. The corre­ spondence continued in that vein for four months, neither of us prepared to give an inch. I was enlisting what political support I could for my position, but meanwhile I had the painting delivered to my daughter Kathleen. She needed no export licence to display it in her dining-room in Walton-on­ Thames, outside London. By the end of October, in desperation I suggested a trade: the Highmore portrait for a magnificent large Benjamin West painting of the Battle of Lahogue, the British naval victory which destroyed a French fleet and with it the Stuarts' last hope of regaining the throne. That offer was refused. The next step was a formal appeal to the Board of Review. I followed that up personally when I went over to England for the Coronation in the spring of 1953, and also sought the aid of Viscount Alexander, the former Governor-General of Canada. Mr. Adams helped my case indirectly by deciding suddenly that a third portrait of Wolfe, somewhat inferior in quality to those by Highmore but solidly located in England, had been painted from life, and fmal victory came when the British Government relaxed its regulations on export of antiques. One year after I bought the Highmore portrait of General Wolfe, I got permission to display it where it belonged-in my own Canadiana Gallery. The one condition, which I have so far never had to honour, was that it would be returned to England for temporary exhibition if the need arose. Next to the pictures, I find most interesting the maps and charts which trace the successful struggle by explorers and surveyors to understand this continent, and the changes wrought by settlement and war. I have many fine old specimens, among them an atlas of I 5 I I which shows the New World without the name "America," and a map which is probably the second ever to use that name. (Our continent should have been Canadiana 157 Columbia, of course, or even more logically Cabotia, since it was John Cabot who discovered the mainland a year before Columbus.) One way or another I have also managed to find the first atlas devoted entirely to the New World, and one of the last to show California as an island. There is a map of Quebec which Wolfe used in his campaign, and others of the first British colonies in North America which may have been handled by Raleigh and Drake. When the Canadian Government announced it would build the St. Lawrence Seaway with or without United States aid ten years ago, I wrote to Prime Minister St. Laurent offering a rare volume I had recently obtained. It contained maps, reports and estimates for the improvement of navigation on the St. Lawrence, prepared in 1850 by a firm of New York engineers. They included a complete survey of the river from Prescott to Montreal, which I knew would be useful in determining the effect of currents over a century. The Government agreed with my estimate, but fortunately they already had a copy and mine remained in the Gallery. One of the most valuable pieces in the entire collection is a four-volume set of charts and maritime views known as the Atlantic Neptune, published for the use of the Royal Navy by Joseph F. W. des Barres in 1779-1780. As a British Army officer under General Wolfe, des Barres had prepared a large-scale chart of the St. Lawrence River with the assistance of the celebrated navigator, Captain James Cook. After the French defeat he made further surveys of the Quebec area, and then moved to the Maritimes where he spent ten years charting the coast of Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and the American colonies. In 1774 he was set to work on the Atlantic Neptune, a mammoth work encompassing charts which he and others had prepared, along with views of the principal ports and stretches of coastline. After publication in 1777 the four volumes became the standard guide for navigation along the 158 In Return Atlantic coast from Nova Scotia to the Gulf of Mexico, and were of particular importance to the British during the Ameri­ can Revolution. New editions were published almost annually to incorporate additional information, so that no issue is exactly the same as another, and a perfect copy is impossible to define. To supplement its record of exploration, the Gallery has a small but interesting collection of ship models. I got into this line quite accidentally in 1947, while reading the report of a meeting in Bristol commemorating the 450th anniversary of John Cabot's departure for the New World. My eye was caught first by a provocative statement attributed to the Sheriff of Bristol, Colonel E. W. Lennard. He apparently believed that America was named, not for Amerigo Vespucci as is commonly believed, but for Richard Amerycke, a Sheriff of Bristol entrusted by Henry VII to pay Cabot a royal pension as a reward for his discoveries. As I continued reading, I discovered that a model of Cabot's ship, the Matthew, built by a local man, had been shown at the meeting. From an accompanying picture it appeared a strange vessel to modern eyes, short and chunky, with high sides and a rudder like a barn door. I thought what a valuable addition to the visual portrayal of history such a model would be, and through Colonel Lennard ordered a copy. Some years later I came across an article in the Illustraced London News about a set of scale models portraying the nine Royal Navy ships which through the centuries have borne the name Vanguard. The first fought against the Spanish Armada and the last was commissioned in 1946. The one that interested me most was the fourth Vanguard, which had fought in Canada and the West Indies and is shown in a painting by Francis Swaine off the Pierced Rock in the St. Lawrence. I wrote immediately to the man who made the models, Mr. Julian Glossop of the Imperial War Museum in London. The Van­ guard which he produced for the Canadiana Gallery was so Canadiana 159 attractive that I ordered models from him of the Mayflower and of Champlain's vessel Don de Dieu, each built with the greatest possible historical accuracy. The final ship in this series is Jacques Cartier's Petite Hermine. The French craftsman who made it was able to obtain from the Museum in St. Malo a piece of wood from the original ship to add interest to the display, and a second fragment just large enough to form a lifeboat for the model. There are many other items which deserve to be mentioned. There is a collection of old Canadian currency, including the brass beaver tokens issued by the Hudson's Bay Company for its dealings with the trappers: General Wolfe's field desk, which for many years stood in another gallery of the Royal Ontario Museum; the sword Montcalm carried up to his death on the Plains of Abraham; and shelves of books, many of them rare, others modem reference works. Recently there have come to hand several important manuscripts, among them eye-witness accounts of the siege of Louisbourg and the battle for Quebec, and the deed by which James I presented the Maritimes to Sir William Alexander in 1621. One of the most unusual is the treaty by which Colonel George Washington of the Virginia Militia surrendered his hastily built Fort Necessity to a superior French force two years before the Seven Years' War began. This document came into private hands during the French Revolution, when it was thrown out the windows of the Louvre along with thousands of other state papers. Eventually it came to Canada, where it was offered to me at a bargain price to keep it away from American collectors. From these and a thousand other items has come great pleasure. Over the years I have made many good bargains and a few less fortunate, and assuredly this is a facet of collecting which as a businessman I find appealing. But I have tried to be more than just the man who signs the cheques. Though far from expert, in thirty-eight years I have learned something of the techniques of engraving and lithography, painting and 160 In Return display. These have been bonuses in the course of indulging a life-long love for Canada's past. For a time, the market for Canadiana was so rich that acquisitions came flooding into the collection-so rapidly that C. W. Jefferys complained he would never be able to finish his catalogue. Every time he thought it was complete, new pur­ chases would arrive. More recently the flow of paintings and prints have shrunk. Most of the available prints are already in the Gallery, and the general interest in Canadiana has grown so great that other desirable items are scarce and very costly. Not long ago, it was easy to add 150 new pictures in a year; now we are lucky to find 25 that are worth purchasing, at much higher prices. Still, the search continues. Each of us, as he grows older, tends to spend more time looking backward. I have tried to look backward in such a way as to bring to life for others the wonderful story of our country's early years. As I told the first visitors to the new wing of the Gallery, "I hope the public may find enjoyment and instruction by visiting the Gallery, and I hope that the people of this city and Province, visitors from the rest of Canada and other parts of the world, will make this collection of Canadiana an object of pilgrimage down through the long years. Come to it frequently." 16. Epilogue

IN THE YEARS since I turned my attention principally to the Canadiana Gallery, the family business has continued to grow, not spectacularly but steadily. At our centenary the City of Toronto drew up a special citation recognizing the vital con­ tribution the company has made to the development of the community. (Through the vagaries ofofficial usage the citation, presented by a Jewish mayor, Nathan Phillips, to a Jewish businessman, is dated, "in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and fifty-five.'') At the same time, I was made a freeman of Toronto, and three years later received the City's Award of Merit medal in the company of Dr. Charles H. Best, the co-discoverer of Insulin, and Dr. Healey Willan, the com­ poser and organist. The next thing I knew the new Municipality of Metropolitan Toronto had expropriated the property on which our Fleet Street warehouse stood in order to build an expressway. It was a long time before the arbitration board set a price for the land we had lost-so long that while we were waiting we built a new warehouse on Dixie Road in Toronto 162 In Return Township and moved in. Then the Municipality decided to appeal the award, for fear that they might pay a little too much for an extremely valuable site, central and well situated for transportation by rail and water. I went down in person to the Metropolitan Toronto execu­ tive council to plead with them to settle out of court and to offer them a bargain. If they would drop proceedings then and there, I told them, I would voluntarily knock $50,000 off the arbitration award. Any businessman would have jumped at the offer. But they were a bunch of lawyers. After talking a good deal about what I had done for the community, they sent the decision back to the courts. There it has stayed ever since, tying up time and a considerable amount of money, just as Father warned me would happen if ever I got trapped in lawsuits. I never expect to see the end of it. The business now is managed by my grandson, Ernest Samuel. The new warehouse, which he helped design, is one of the most modern and efficient on the continent, fully equipped with automatic machinery to move steel and alu­ minum in the sheets which have long been our staple, and in the coils which have become standard in the last decade as manufacturers introduced continuous feed equipment. A few years ago we opened a new branch in Montreal, where a century ago the firm used to have an office under Manny's management. Both warehouses supply to Canadian manufac­ turers the metal for hundreds of products, from the castors on a baby's crib to natural gas pipeline. Over nearly ninety-five years I have been fortunate to see the pioneer town of Vancouver and the antiquities of Luxor, the stagecoaches of rural Ontario and most recently men in orbit around the earth. Looking back over it all, I can say with the Psalmist, "The lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places. Surely I have a goodly heritage." I have been blessed with a long life, which I have tried to live sanely and usefully. I have tried to make the most of it. Index

ADAMS, G. K., 155-6 Currelly, C. T., 102-4, 135, 138 Aitkens, Bert, 63 Cuthbertson, Charles, 77 Aitkens, Bronte, 63 Alexander, H. R. L. G. (Viscount Alex- DAVIDSON,John L., 47-8, 126 ander of Tunis), 150, 156 Davis, Isaac, 10 Alexander, Sir William, 159 De Hamel, E. B., u5-16 Amerycke, Richard, 15 8 des Barres, Joseph F. W., 157-8 Amherst, Sir Jeffery, 154 Dorland, S. M., 47-8 Andre,John, 153 Down, Thomas, 90 Armstrong, William, 47 Drew, George, 149 Art Gallery of Toronto, 110, 133 Austin, A. W., 128 FENNELL, Robert, 148, 149 BAKER, Alfred, 121-2, 123 Ferguson,John C., 134, 135 Bartlett, W. H., 98, 145, 146 Fisher, George B., 145 Beatty, Samuel, 142 Frost, Leslie M., 149 Beaty, James, 33 Benjamin, Alfred, 57, 58--9, 72, 90, 92 GARVIN, Fred, 3 I Benjamin, Frank, 72, 90, 92, 94, 95, 98-9, Garvin, John, 63 IOO, 105, 127 Giles, Lionel, 135 Best, Charles H., 161 Glossop,Julian, 158 Bosworth, G. M., 73, 77 Godfrey, John W., 129 Brett, Gerard, 138, 149 Gray, Thomas, 68--9, 122 Brock, Sir Isaac, 48, 150 Greening, T. B., 126 Brown, Albert, 63 HAGGARD, Sir Rider, 112 CABOT,John, 156, 158 Hanlan, Ned, 31-2 Cartier, Jacques, 159 Harper, Russell, 152 Champlain, Samuel de, 149, 158 Hennepin, Father, 146 Charles II, 153 Heriot, George, 145 Cockburn, G. R.R., 45 Highmore, Joseph, 154-6 Cockbum,J. P., 145, 148 Highton, George, 82, 84 Cody, H.J., 133-4 Holy Blossom Temple, II, 37, 39, 41, Cohen, David, 84 59, 139 Cohen, Louis S., 86 Hughes, (Sir) Sam, 3 I Index l1tETON, H.J. C., 142 Morse, Fred, 21 Irving, Paulus Aemilius, IS3 Morse, Morton, 21 Mu, H. H., 133 JAMES I, 159 Mulock, Sir William, 122 Jefferys, C. W., 147, 160 John, Augustus, 124 NEWTON, Sir Isaac, 141 Johnson, Richard, 63 Nordheimer, Abraham, II, IS Johnston, William, 121-2 O'BRIAN, J. B., 136 Jones, Jacobine, 149 Joseph, Judah G., 10 PARKMAN, Francis, 68 Jull, Tommy, 130, 140-1 Parks, W. A., 138--9 Peard, Frank, 50, 5 I KENNEDY, s. R., 79 Pearson, W. H., II Kingston, W. H. G., 67 Pepall, George, 95, 99, 101, 143 Kipling, Rudyard, 85, 88, 123 Phillips, Nathan, 161 Krieghoff, Cornelius, 145, 152-3 Phillips, W. E., 149 Pidgeon, David B., 129, 130 LAMB, W. Kaye, 155 Leitch, Gordon, 140 REYNOLDS, Sir Joshua, 153 Lely, Sir Peter, 153 Rolph, Ernest, 121 Lennard, E. W., 158 Romney, George, I 53 Levy, Ben, 86-7 Rossin, Marcus, 10 Lome, Marquis of, and Princess Louise, Rossin, Samuel, 10 34 Royal Ontario Museum, no, 133--9, 147. Lovat Fraser, J. A., ns-16, II7 See also Sigmund Samuel Gallery of Lumley, Isaac, 10 Canadiana Lumley, Morris, IO Rupert, Prince, I 53

McCLARY,John, 18 Sr. LAURENT,Louis, 157 Mackay, J. Keiller, 123, 151 Samuel family: Mackenzie, Ross, 3 I Amelia (sister of S.S.), 27, 30 McLaughlin, Samuel, 93 Eleazer (cousin of S.S.), 16 McLean, Stanley, 140 Emmanuel (brother of S.S.), 8, 9 McLennan, Sir John, 124-5, 142 Emmanuel (Manny) (cousin of S.S.), Mason, Fred, 63 16, 17,25,27, 57, 5~71,7~79, 83, Mason, Harry, 63, 64, 65, n6, 128 90, 91, 162 Mason, Henry, 63 Ernest (grandson of S.S.), 162 Mason, J. Herbert, 65 Esther (sister of S.S.), 8, 9 Mason, William, 63, 64, 65 Florence (sister of S.S.), 27, 34, 70, 73, Massey, Vincent, I 50 76 Mavor, James, 121 Florence (daughter of S.S.), IOS, 1o6, Mechanics Institute, 3 8--9 II8, 140 Meighen, Arthur, 122-3 Henrietta (sister of S.S.), 27 Miller, Coleman, 71 Jacob Qack) (cousin of S.S.), 16, 17, 18, Miller, Hyman, 20-1, 25 19, 36, 57, 58, 81, 83-4, 92, 95, 105 Model School, 46-8, 53, 66, 148 Kate (mother of S.S.), 71, 89; early life Mond, Sir Alfred (Lord Melchett), 108- and marriage, 7-8; family life, 8--9, 10, II3 14, 15, 29, 33-4; hopes for S.S., 30, Mond, Sir Robert, 108, no-12, 135, 136, 53, 79; community interests, 38, 41 141 Kathleen (daughter of S.S.), 105, I 10- Montcalm, Marquis de, I 59 II, II8, 141, 156 Index

Leah May (wife of S.S.), 48, 94, 96, Samuel, Sir Marcus (Lord Bearsted), 107 no, n8; early life and marriage, -8 84-7; family life, 89, 105, 106-'7; Samuel, Son & Co. Ltd. (M. & L. community interests, 142-3 Samuel; M. & L. Samuel, Benjamin Lewis (father of S.S.), early life and & Co.): founded by Mark and marriage, 4-8; family life, 8--9, 14, Lewis Samuel, 11-14; advantages, 15, 29, 33; character, 10, 19-21, 16-17, 19; eastbound exports, 17-19; 45-6, 61; helps found Toronto He­ early growth and difficulties, 21-6; brew Congregation, 10-n; leads in 1881, 53-6; new partnership campaign for synagogue, 41; other formed under title of M. & L. community interests, 38-40; busi­ Samuel, Benjamin & Co., 56--9; ness career, n-14, 16, 17-18, 21-6, interests expand, 59-60; fire destroys 54, 56-61; plans for S.S., 44, 46, 53; premises, 71; buy out Risley & Ker­ death, 61, 70-1 rigan, 72; Frank Benjamin joins Lewis (son of S.S.), 105, 120 partnership, 72; consider West Coast Mark (uncle of S.S.), 6, 8, u-12, 16- branch, 79; English office moved to 18, 23, 28, 56-8 London, 82; S.S. enters partnership, Matilda (sister of S.S.), 27, 66 86, 92; advantage of metals over Norman (son ofS.S.), 51,105,120,140 shelf hardware, 90-2; record year Rosetta (sister of S.S.), 27 in 1899, 92; changing conditions in Samuel (brother of S.S.), 27-8 early 19oo's, 93-4; buildings erected, Sigmund: birth, 27; ancestry, 3--9; 94-5, 127; 1914-18 wartime expan­ youth, 14, 15, 27-38, 62-8; recrea­ sion, 99-102; represent Mood Nickel tions, 32-3, 64, 128-31; education, Company, 109; S.S. sole proprietor, 43-50; marriage, 84-7; family life in name changed to Samuel, Son & Co., Toronto, 89--90, 120-1; community 127; London branch closed, 127; interests, 38-42, 46, 50, 65, 103-4, centenary, 161; new Dixie Road IIO, II3, 132-43; views on preju­ building, 161-2; Montreal branch dice, 40, 106, 125-7; visits and life in opened, 162 England, 5, 79, 82-4, 88, 97-IIo, Sheppard, N. E., 142 u3-19; views on England, 83, 106, Short, Richard, 145 114; runs for Parliament in England, Sigmund Samuel Gallery of Canadiana, 113-18; visits Egypt and Palestine, 52, 147-60 II0-13, Simcoe, John Graves, 150 Business career: 18-19; first busi­ Smith, Sidney E., 137, 142-3 ness venture, 29-30; enters family Smyth, Hervey, 145 business, 53-6; salesman, 71, 91-2; Somerville, A. J., 60-1 cravels to western Canada and Cali­ Spendlove, F. St. George, 151, 155 fornia, 73--9; sells Great Eastern plates, Sproatt, Henry, 121 81-2; in effective charge of Toronto Stuart, Gilbert, 153 office, 90; partner, 92-5; wartime Sturge, Allen, 102-4 experiences, 99-102; sole proprie­ Swaine, Francis, 15 8 tor, 127-8; business principles, 19, 61, 93-4, 102, 123 TATE, W. Kerr, 20 Collecting Canadiana: inspiration Taylor, Arthur P., 63 at Model School, 48--9; begins with Toronto Hebrew Congregation. See stamps, 50-2; reads Parkman, 68; Holy Blossom Temple begins collecting prints in London, Toronto Western Hospital, 140-1 97-8; growth of collection, 144-60 Townshend, George, Marquis, 153 Samuel, Sir Herbert (Viscount Samuel), Trevelyan, G. M., 141 107, 112 Tyrrell, J. B., 154 166 Index

UNIVERSITY of Toronto, 15, 53, 141-3. Webster,]. Clarence, 146 See also Royal Ontario Museum; West, Benjamin, 145, 154, 156 Sigmund Samuel Gallery of Cana­ White, William C., 133-4, 135, 137-8, diana 151 Upper Canada College, 44-6 Willan, Healey, 161 Williams-Taylor, Sir Frederick, 98 WALKER, Sir Edmund, 102-4, uo, 126-7, Wolfe, James, 48, 68, uo, 150, 154-6, 132-3 157, 159 Washington, George, 159 Wrap, W. H., SI

The Town of York 1793-1815

A COLLECTION OF DOCUMENTS OF EARLY TORONTO

Edited, with an Introduction, by EDITH G. FIRTH

"The value of the documents is greatly enhanced by the skilful editing and the introductory essay. . . . The selections brought together here present a clear picture of the commercial, military, religious and general social life of the town during its first two decades. Canadian Forum "Throughout the book the author-editor displays a thorough grasp of the available materials and a conscientious concern in the matter of selection. . . . In her search for materials the author has cast her net wide and has judiciously selected the best of the catch." Canadian Historical Review "The most important book on the history of Toronto in many years .... We should all be gra.teful to Miss Firth, who has assembled over 300 pages of documents about York and has given us in addition 60 pages of valuable interpretive introduction." C. P. Stacey in the Globe and Mail "[The Town of York] is a work of scholarship and tireless research. It is the raw material of our history, carefully selected and indexed; it is, in addition, one of the liveliest books of the current publishing season." Saturday Night 368 pages, $5.00

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS