A PROFILE OF "OLD STYLE FUNERALS," BY REDMOND THOMAS, FROM HIS BOOK OF "REMINISCENCES"
1969 HISTORY, PUBLISHED BY THE FORMER HERALD-GAZETTE PRESS
A short preamble to today’s post. ….
There have been times, like the past forty-eight hours for example, when unfolding global catastrophes seem to smother over anything a regional historian can come up with to encourage a readership. Suzanne and I are of the baby boomer generation, and although we didn’t experience the war years of the 1940’s, we benefitted from the coming-together-boom of the post war push for better lives, stronger families, and more resilient communities. We experienced good times and lots of bad ones, from the Cuban Missile Crisis, the assassinations of President Kennedy, his brother Bobby, Dr. Martin Luther King, and watched as men walked on the moon. We watched the protests against the Vietnam war, and we watched the evacuation during the fall of Saigon. That was the 1970’s. We watched the terror unfolding of the 9-11 terrorist attacks in New York, and we have watched all the carnage inflicted by the Covid -19 Pandemic. We have, in the past 24 hours, watched the equally shocking evacuation of Kabul, Afghanistan, and watched the disturbing video footage of stowaways, clinging onto the outside of the military transport planes leaving the airport, losing their grips and tumbling to their deaths. The risk was apparently worth it, versus facing the invading Taliban, looking for those who had worked with the Americans over the past twenty years of occupation. The reason for bringing this up? We might be historians, but we’re citizens of the world first, and this humanitarian crisis damns us all in one way or another. You just don’t want to think that this can happen in 2021 but for gosh sakes, we watched an insurrection on Washington’s Capital Hill, that might well have been successful if all the conspiratorial plans had manifested successfully.
Suzanne and I do dwell in the past more than most. We are antique dealers first of all, and secondly we are active regional Muskoka historians, who truly enjoy ferreting out obscure details of our community past, especially folklore, to add a little more depth and a lot more color to the black and whites of accepted history dating back to the late 1850’s. But we are news hounds for sure, and that comes from my own long time involvement with the local media here in South Muskoka, and the reality that many stories I worked on back in the late 1970’s onward to the turn of this present century, were local in part, regional, provincial, national and international in content. All the material that we research, with the idea of building some significant feature stories, are not free and clear of the influences of all the other things that were going on at the particular time we happen to be examining. For example, when the Town of Bracebridge was named by Dr. William Dawson LeSueur, by the act of registering the new post office, in August 1862, the American Civil War was in full conflict, and the few settlers living in the hamlet at this time, would have known what was going on south of the border, as citizens had access to newspapers and mail, and also knew that Canadian recruits to either the North or South were being solicited through a number of sources. Although it was not federally approved, or sanctioned by the Commonwealth at the time, there were volunteers from Ontario and Canada as it was prior to Confederation, There was a national concern that should the South win the conflict, they might well carry on the fight northward, and take Canada from the British, as they had tried and failed during the War of 1812. It probably didn’t scare many Bracebridge settlers, at least in 1862, but the fact Dr. LeSueur had taken the work of an American author, Washington Irving, might have been a little more troubling had anyone at the time investigated the strange namesake. There was nothing to it, of course, as far as Dr. LeSueur heralding an American takeover, by issuing a name from a book that he happened to approve. Of course, the story of “Bracebridge Hall,” is based at the Manor House of Squire Bracebridge in the English countryside, so that kind of eased tensions, if any tensions were raised. I don’t think they were.
The point is, historians are always influenced by current affairs as much as past events and calamities. As it has always entered writer’s domains, whether the working of a novelist, a reporter, columnist or editor of a newspaper, or the historian who documents it all at a later date, current events and the attitudes of the day and year, almost always provide an extra bit of shade, or an extravagance of color, or literal moodiness, because historians have the right to their opinions as well. We find this to be a sad time for the world. But at the same time, life and death are as certain as taxes, and we must move on with the actualities of once, and at present. We always hope for peace because it’s the way we are, but we get up every morning as realists, and ponder aloud, over a coffee, what the coming day will bring forth. We have lived through a lot of history, and I guess that’s the most relevant point. We live to fight another day.
If you've been a regular reader of this blog, you will remember my previous reference, to having an interest in funerary collectables. Yes, I did once own a portable embalming machine, and I loved having at our former shop, in Bracebridge, as a matter of some irony, in a storefront built onto the former W.W. Kinsey home, on upper Manitoba Street. Mr. Kinsey, of course, being one of two undertakers at the turn of the 1900's, in Bracebridge. When customers asked what the contraption was, they'd jump back, when I told them it was an embalming machine, that could be taken to any site, to perform the pre-funeral preparations. Well sir, it always got a hands-off reaction, that's for sure, although I was surprised by how many people did ask questions later, about the device, while, of course, standing well back; much as if there was still a spirit residue contained inside. I eventually donated it to my friend Dave Brown, a Hamilton teacher, who was planning to use it in an education display, for students, about early medical equipment, and how it was used.
I also got a good deal on a beautiful spindle bed, circa 1875, made in Ontario, that was once the comfortable accommodation, on which the newly deceased were placed, for viewing, in the church manse, of the Alhambra United Church, in Toronto. We call it our death bed, but it isn't haunted. It doesn't levitate, or occasionally show up the form of one of those corpses, which had been laid out, prior to the coming funeral. It is however, a short bed, as from this period, folks were generally a little shorter than they are today. We sleep on it every night, and well, it's quite comfortable. You'd sort of expect we'd have nightmares or something, but honestly, it is quite benign in terms of paranormal anything. Suzanne was mad at me for buying it, but as I told her, being an antique dealer by itself, dictates that we are going to be handling possessions of the deceased constantly, in order to stay in business. Those folks didn't die in that bed. They were embalmed, and then placed there, for viewing. There are lots of antique beds, that were a lot closer to the precise moment of death, than this fine piece of Canadiana.
I used to have a magnificently handcrafted sea shell memorial cross, made following a maritime boating accident, that is definitely an interesting icon, but unmistakably creepy in the Victorian style. I've turned down lots of funerary antiques and collectables, including a child's casket with a window, for public viewing, without needing the lid open. I've also had many photographs of the deceased, some appearing as if the subject of the photograph was just sleeping. I had to point this out to an antique clerk once, that a vintage photograph, they were advertising as a Victorian portrait, was actually a death image; the man lounging on a chair, had been situated that way, for purposes of this final photograph. This wasn't uncommon, and in the previous blog, regarding the folding casket, for Mr. R.B. Browning, it was created to appear as if a parlor couch, to make it appear the subject was only relaxing; not actually deceased. Death pictures do creep folks out, and of this, I feel much the same. But, it was done, and often, soon after the invention of the camera. I also owned, at one time, death images of children, painted with watercolors; each of the five portraits, given angel wings, and halos, via the artist's intent. These were painted in the early 1800's. Suzanne didn't like them whatsoever, and was glad when a gentleman insisted on making the purchase, against his wife's vehement protest. They got into an argument right in the hall of the shop, and she walked out on him, in the middle of the debate. Her concern was, that they would bring an unwelcome spirit, or group of spirits, into their happy home. As he had experienced the death of a sister due to a childhood illness, these portraits, in a way, reminded him, in a positive way, of her memorial tributes, that he remembered as a child himself. "What negativity could possibly come from these little angels," he said, as he thanked us for uniting him with this work of 'mourning' (memorial) art.
"In my previous article, there was mention of the funeral of R.M. Browning, at which the horses, hitched to the hearse, plunged with such violence that the casket, broke loose from the fastenings, and crashed through the glass doors, at the back of the vehicle," wrote Redmond Thomas, in his popular book, "Reminiscences." "After publication of that article (in The Herald-Gazette circa 1967), it occurred to me that there are now many mature young men, and women, who have neither seen a funeral cortege, or horse-drawn vehicles; nor have heard about the very sombre trappings of death in such times.
"Coffins had so nearly gone out of use by my earliest recollection, that I cannot remember ever seeing one, though I have seen the impression of the shape, of one, in the clay bottom of a grave, which had been opened to remove one. They were, generally speaking, form fitting, widening from the top downwards to the shoulders, and then tapering towards the feet. Caskets, now universally used, have in general appearance, changed very little within my recollection, except that no longer is seen the folding casket, such as the one to which Mr. Browning was buried; and gone also is the style in which, (until the casket was closed for the funeral) the face of the deceased could be viewed through a glass window, near the top of the casket. And no longer is affixed to the casket, a 'coffin plate' of polished metal, engraved with the name, date of death, and age, something which it seems to me, would be very useful if (as sometimes happens) bodies are moved."
Mr. Thomas notes that, "Embalming was, when I first remember funerals, not in its present standard use. Of the two funeral establishments in Bracebridge, only the Kinsey one had an embalmer, namely Joshua L. Yeoman, who was a graduate of the Chicago College of Embalming, but in that establishment, embalming was optional. The other establishment, White's, had no embalmer, but if one was desired, would bring one from Gravenhurst. There was no funeral home. The two establishments engaging in undertaking, were basically furniture stores, and in fact, the Kinsey one, handled not only furniture but pianos, organs, and agricultural implements. A corpse was never taken to an undertaking establishment (even to be embalmed), unless the deceased had no home here, in which event, the body was placed in some secluded room, to await being sent away by railroad or being given burial here.
"The bereaved household was a grim place. Crepe hung on the front door (and in case of a merchant, on the store door as well). Though the crepe was usually black, it was sometimes purple, if the deceased were very old, and was invariably white, if the deceased one was a young child. The door bell was muffled, until it gave apparently no sound. While in the room containing the casket, people spoke in whispers, or scarcely any louder. All the outer clothing of the woman, of the household, was dyed black, and many ladies added black borders to their white handkerchiefs. The men of the house wore black suits, and ties, and often had a black band of crepe sewn on an arm of the coat. The social stationary of the household, had black borders on note paper, and envelopes, hence a reference in an old song, to a letter edged in black. All this was 'full mourning' and lasted for a year. There were no sympathy cards. Friends wrote letters of condolence, and these in strict etiquette were of mourning (black bordered) stationary, though this strict rule was commonly ignored."
The Herald-Gazette writer recollected that, "During the second year, after bereavement, the ladies wore half mourning which was a mixture of black and white. I have forgotten how (if at all) the men marked the second year.
"Every pallbearer work a dark suit (preferably black) and a black tie. The undertaker provided him with black cotton or woollen gloves, and attached a bunch of long crepe, to whichever arm, was not to be used for carrying the casket. The undertaker wore formal attire, including black frock coat, and plug hat, and rode beside the driver of the (horse drawn) hearse. The hearse had large windows on each side, and the top of the vehicle was ornamented by metal imitations, of crepe-draped urns. (If the funeral to St. Joseph's Church, a cross was added to the top of the hearse). The horses pulling the hearse were a black team."
Mr. Thomas adds, "Across the open grave were sticks on which rested the rough box, with its top removed. The pallbearers placed the casket in the rough box, to which the undertaker then fastened the cover. Using heavy straps of tug-leather, running from side to side, under the rough box, the pallbearers, three on each side of the grave, lifted the rough box until the sticks could be removed from under it, and then they lowered it to the bottom of the grave, after which those on one side, let go, and those on the other side, drew the straps up to the surface. The committal service, even in bitterest winter weather, was at the graveside, and all men present, stood bareheaded, hence the grim saying, that many a man got his death of pneumonia, while attending the winter-time funeral of a friend. I have been pallbearer at old style funerals in summer and winter.
"As all horses in a funeral cortege proceeded at a walk, the progress was slow. If the deceased had belonged to a fraternal society, the members of the lodge walked at the front of the procession. When I was a small lad, before the motor age, I saw the two largest funerals every held in Bracebridge, and the like of which will never be seen again, or even approached in impressiveness.
"They were those of Angus McLeod, M.P., from his home where the hospital now is, to the Methodist Cemetery, and of Dr. Samuel Bridgland, M.P.P., from his home, on the west side of McMurray Street, to the Anglican Church, and Anglican Cemetery. In fact, I rode with my father in a buggy, at Dr. Bridgland's funeral, which took place less than two weeks after that of Mr. Browning.
"But I never saw a bang-up funeral, like the one described to me, many years ago, by an elderly gentleman, whom I met on a train. His early childhood had been spent in a remote rural part of Southern Ireland, where many old customs then remained, a century after they had gone out of use, in the more sophisticated parts of that land. He told me of the funeral of one of the gentry, whose elegant mansion was commonly called 'The Hall,' and who, because of his affability and generosity, was beloved by the poor people. So the poor folks decided to pay him every possible honor. Hundreds of them walked in the funeral procession, and among them was a group of elderly women who were known by a Celtic name, meaning wailers.
"When the great Cortege (which included a vast number of carriages of the affluent), left the Hall, for the church, the wailers were much in evidence. All the way, they walked and shrieked at the top of their voices. One of them would scream, 'He was such a grand man,' whereupon the others would scream, 'and indeed he was,' and then the whole caboodle would shriek. The horses, in the cortege, did not take kindly to this display of feminine grief, and the steeds wanted to depart post-haste, to some quieter environment, in which desire they were restrained by only a most adept display of horsemanship by the drivers, whose arms were very tired by the time the church was reached; and the wailers quit their shrieks (as after the service, the coffin was placed in the family vault in the church yard). How did the bereaved family regard the wailers? Very appreciatively indeed. For the family knew that the wailers never appeared just because a deceased person was prominent. In addition to being prominent, he must have been beloved by those of humbler station."
I have read a number of early Muskoka histories, that refer to the dreaded sound of the horses' hooves, clomping down on the hard packed rural trails, often late in the evening, with the undertaker and helper, at the reins. During the days of epidemics, it wasn't uncommon to have the hearses and sometimes just farm wagons, picking up the deceased from those homes, that had been particularly hard-hit by influenza, for example, amongst other outbreaks. What would happen, in these cases, is that the deceased, which could be as many as four family members in one night, would be picked up by courageous funerary staff, and taken immediately to the nearest cemetery for burial. They did not want any mourners, or sight-seers in attendance at these rush-funerals, for fear of contamination spreading. These homesteaders knew the sound of the wagon wheels, and the team of horses, that what was passing out front, had an omen attached; and these alerted folks, would take their lanterns out onto the road, to see what farm the undertaker and hearse were going to visit. An eerie scene unfolding. Just as much, to see the long weaving funeral processions, through the rolling countryside, with the casket (or earlier coffin), raised onto the pallbearers shoulders, on a footpath to the appropriate, or nearest cemetery, without a horse in the solemn parade, and no hearse as part of the transport of the deceased.
I have to thank Redmond Thomas, for writing the column above, which contains a considerable amount of important heritage information, on a subject many of us would rather not think about. But it is none the less important to understand and appreciate, about what our forefathers and mothers had to content, when mortality was much higher than it is today; especially amongst children. There is a story in the Shea Family chronicle, of a deceased daughter, being carried from the hamlet of Ufford, to the churchyard in the hamlet of Falkenburg, just north of Bracebridge, a distance that would have taken two hours to walk, coffin on shoulders. When they got there, the open grave, dug in advance by cemetery caretakers, was full of water, and the family insisted it be drained dry, before the body was committed to the ground.
Fascinating history. It really is!
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