One evening during the winter of 1938-39 Edwin C. Guillet, a noted Canadian historian, received a strange telephone call. It was from the Prime Minister of Canada, William Lyon Mackenzie King. Mr. King was upset. In fact, his agitation bordered on anger. He had pondered the problem for several months and felt he needed to share it with someone. Who better than with his historian friend, Guillet. The Prime Minister explained that the previous summer he had participated in an event of historic importance to the country and of particular personal pleasure and pride to himself. He had unveiled an arch - the Clifton Gate Memorial Arch at Niagara Falls.
The
memorial arch was the brainchild of T.
B. McQuesten, Chairman of the
Niagara Parks Commission. It was to commemorate the inception of
responsible government following the rebellion of 1837. He had an architect
prepare the design, which bore the Egyptian motif with a tapered top. The
cement core had been cast and was awaiting the application of limestone panels
which were to contain various bas relief drawings and inscriptions
commemorating the rebellion and, in particular, the person of William Lyon
Mackenzie.
By
April 1938 construction had progressed to the point where a date could be set
for the unveiling of the monument and two dates in June were suggested to King.
While the Prime Minister was normally hesitant about accepting out-of-town
engagements, King leapt at the chance to officiate on this occasion. ‘I need hardly say
that I am more than appreciative of the invitation thus extended, and feel much
honoured by it as well. In all probability our Parliament will prorogue
sometime between the middle and end of June. Ordinarily I would feel that for
this reason, I should not make any engagements for that fortnight, as my
presence in the concluding days of the Session is more imperative than at any
other time. However, I should not wish to miss an association with the
unveiling of the Memorial Arch, and the invitation extended by Mr. McQuestion
and Members of the Board to me to unveil the Memorial Arch causes me to feel
that I might well be justified in being absent for at least the Saturday on
which the ceremony is to take place.’ In his diary King noted, ‘accepted today an
invitation to unveil the memorial arch at Niagara last weekend in June - a
significant fulfilment of God’s Holy will.’
It
was announced that the completed arch was meant to serve a dual purpose. First,
the Arch was intended to commemorate the one hundredth anniversary of
responsible government in Canada by honouring ‘the constancy, courage, faith and right
thinking of the humble and unremembered folk’ who had pioneered and
settled the country and to remind the present generation of the pride they
should have in their nation’s history. Secondly, the Arch was constructed to provide an
impressive entrance to Queen Victoria Park for visitors entering Canada over
the Upper Steel Arch Bridge which was known locally as the Falls View Bridge.’
However,
nature nullified the latter purpose, for on Thursday, January 27th, 1938 a
massive movement of ice down the river unceremoniously relocated the bridge’s
abutments, necessitating the replacement of the Falls View Bridge. The new structure named the Rainbow Bridge was eventually
constructed some distance north of the both the old bridge and the Arch.
The
site of Mr. King’s dedication ceremonies was Oakes Garden Theatre, which had been formally opened itself the
previous September when the adjoining River Road had also been widened. The
unveiling of the Arch was meant to mark the completion of the beautification of
an area which had been designated by an act of the Legislature in 1885 ‘for the
preservation of the Niagara scenery about the Niagara Falls.’ The Prime
Minister declared that without a doubt this location where beauty and history
were perfectly combined, was the most beautiful spot in the world. On Saturday,
June 18th, seven thousand citizens looked on in anxious anticipation as the
Prime Minister rose to unveil the Arch, which for the occasion was covered in
red, white and blue bunting. Mr. King stepped forward and pushed a small
electric switch. Dramatically the bunting fell away disclosing the Memorial Arch. Mackenzie King, who it
must be admitted reluctantly, was more famous for dull than for daring speeches
was said to have outdone himself at the event. According to a newspaper report
of the unveiling, King delivered to the assembled throng an ‘inspiring
message.’ The Arch, King said,
was more than a memorial to ‘a few rebels,’ for the rebellion was ‘a mere incident in the history
of Canada.’ Rather ‘the Arch was a symbol of triumph’
epitomizing ‘the
conquest of ideas and ideals. As I look at the Arch, it seems to me one can see
the great pilgrimage of men and women going back three centuries who have left
us the country we have today.’
Facing
the Falls on the south side of the Arch above the opening of the Arch, verse
three of the 93rd Psalm was
inscribed: ‘The
floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voice.’
The reference, of course, was to the nearby cascading waters thundering in the
background. Inside the Arch there were various sculptural panels, each
depicting scenes from the history of Canada. Father Hennepin was there, along with Lasalle and his 45-ton, 5-gun barque, the Griffin. Native people were there, too, described by the Prime
Minister as ‘primitive
sons for whom we have not done full justice.’ The Prime Minister’s
grandfather - the Little Rebel,
William Lyon Mackenzie - was there too, depicted presenting his 7th Report to the House of Assembly. There
was a War of 1812 panel on
which a soldier, a Native warrior, and an armed seaman were portrayed, along
with Sir James Yeo’s flagship,
the St. Lawrence. Included also was a pioneer with a
gun - perhaps he was a rebel - along with a settler’s family in an ox-cart
travelling along a corduroy road.
Below the panels was this inscription:
‘This Memorial was erected to honour the memory of the men and women in this land throughout their generations, who braved the wilderness, maintained the settlements, performed the common tasks, without praise or glory and were the pioneers of political freedom and a system of responsible government which became the cornerstone of the British Commonwealth of Nations.’
As
the Prime Minister scrutinized the panels, his critical eye was attracted to
something to which he took immediate exception. It is not known whether he
brought his concerns to the attention of the Commission Chairman, but it is
known that he fretted about the matter for many months before deciding to voice
his concerns to Guillet. On one of the
panels thirty-two names had been inscribed. There were the names of men who had
been executed following the rebellion of 1837. The list included Samuel Lount, Peter Matthews, and Joshua
Gilliam Doan, who, it was said, ‘sprang into eternity without a struggle’
when the trap-door was sprung. King’s consternation was caused by the presence
on the panels of American interlopers, for among the list of revered Canadian Patriots, King’s critical
eye caught the names of several Americans, men who were members of an
organization called The Brotherhood of
Hunters. This semi-secret sect, which was spawned during the days of the
Rebellions of Upper and Lower Canada,
was comprised largely of opportunistic Yankees who said they’d help then
hijacked the Patriot cause. They attempted to turn a local fight for greater
freedom into a rerun of their own revolution. Mackenzie King said these
Americans had no more right to be on the panels with our patriots than members
of the Brotherhood of Fenians,
a group of disgruntled Irish-Americans who had also sought to free Canadians
from the dark tyranny of British oppression. They, too, had invaded Canada and
were likewise driven back across the border. The Brotherhood of Hunters, a semi-military society of mystic
oaths, secret signs and offices of rank was committed to the conquest of
Canada. Leaders of the organization had even held a convention in Cleveland in
September, 1838 and in anticipation of their successful assaults on the British
colony had set up a constitution for the
‘Republic of Upper Canada.’
The
Brotherhood quickly transformed itself from a source of assistance into a cause
for concern. Its members became motivated by dreams of manifest destiny, based,
said one historian, on their sole political doctrine: ‘We own the continent.’ Later the
national dreams of many of the Hunters degenerated into nothing more than
hunger for frontier land, profit and power. Thoughts of liberty gave way to
lust for loot as more and more of the ruffian raiders crossed the porous border
intent only on making money. Their isolated incursions into Canada became
simply furtive acts of criminality. Little
wonder that Mackenzie King and historian Guillet strongly objected to the
presence on the panels of the names of American raiders. Their inclusion
detracted completely from the noble nature of the Canadian rebellions, and the
ultimate accomplishments of the Canadian patriots. Guillet readily agreed to
support the Prime Minister’s objections and he later criticized their presence
publicly in an article in a national magazine. It was all to no avail, however,
for as Guillet subsequently bemoaned, ‘the inscription has not been altered.’
In
Fact, nothing was done until some twenty-eight years later during, ironically, Canada’s Centennial Year, when a
decision was made which resolved the problem. The drastic solution resulted in
the baby being thrown out with the bath water, for away went the offending
names, but away, too, went the Arch. The whole structure was destroyed. The
Commission explained that because of the increasing growth of traffic on River
Road, the offending Arch had become more hazardous than historic. Traffic was
being obstructed and it had to go. After
most of the tourists had left town sometime during the latter part of 1967-68,
the Arch was demolished. Pieces of it were scattered far and wide, the
medallions containing the vessels the Griffin
and the St. Lawrence ending up
aground on the corner of Front and Jarvis Streets in Toronto. It is not known
what happened to the rest. The Prime Minister’s conundrum was finally resolved.
But at what cost? There are some who believe that Mackenzie King might have had
real reservations about razing the Arch. His solution? Demolition if necessary,
but not necessarily demolition.
