Showing posts with label Chatham-Kent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chatham-Kent. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 12, 2026

An Outing to Die For: The "Graveyard Girls" do Chatham-Kent

 If I spend any more time in cemeteries, I'll become a haunt.

Still, if you're into pioneer graveyards, summer is the season to visit. The warm weather, absence of snow cover, and firm, dry ground make this the ideal time to wander and read the inscriptions. 

So when I was invited by Maggie to join her and friends Ruth and Rosemary to visit five graveyards in rural Chatham-Kent, I was happy to go along. While Ruth was visiting loved ones in two of the cemeteries, the rest of us went along for interest's sake. 

Our first stop was Duart Cemetery in the small village of Duart, Orford Township. This public cemetery was never associated with a particular church. 

Kudos to Rosemary for finding what might be the most interesting monument at Duart, this "white bronze" hollow grave marker erected by the Fleming family. White bronze is a misnomer, as these monuments are actually pure zinc with the grey colour achieved by adding a chemical oxidizing agent. Probably made by the White Bronze Monument Company of St. Thomas, these markers were practically indestructible, free from corrosion, discolouration, moss or lichen growth. Made to imitate stone markers, they were usually obelisks like the one below. The name plates could be removed for updates, if necessary, and because the removal revealed a hollow space behind, a rumour arose that bootleggers were using them to store liquor.*

So why aren't there more of them? I'm guessing that a) they were expensive, and b) people at the time didn't know how long-lasting they'd be and continued to use the traditional stone. 

The Fleming monument has one of its sections removed, probably to be updated and reinserted. The crown at the top probably does not represent earthly royalty. Instead, it likely refers to the crown of life or glory, promised in scripture for those who endure hardships and remain faithful to Christ.

On this side, a thistle and a corn cob. The thistle represents Scotland, while the corn suggests the deceased was a farmer or harvester. Alternatively, the numerous kernels may represent prosperity, fertility, or rebirth.

On a third side, Lily of the Valley, suggesting innocence, and a rose (for England?)

Finally, a wheatsheaf, a chain and anchor, and a plow. The first may represent a long, fruitful life, while the anchor may indicate steadfast religious hope, and a plow is another agricultural reference. 

As for the village of Duart itself, it was originally called Kilmarnock but was renamed after Duart Castle on the Island of Mull in Scotland. Scottish settlers presumably named the village after the castle, ancestral home of the Maclean clan. Duart post office opened in 1857 and operated well into the twentieth century. But like many rural communities, Duart has seen better days.  While Duart Hall is a going concern, there are few other businesses or public buildings.

This Covenanted Baptist Church, built in 1896, is closed. Not the first church on the site, just the solid brick replacement for an earlier flimsier building. This Baptist sect had Scottish roots, being founded by Dugald Campbell. A small group, they had only five churches in southwestern Ontario in the 1850s.

Duart Presbyterian Church is gone already, having been demolished in 2010. 

Duart Presbyterian is commemorated by this monument in a village parkette. After the church contents were auctioned in the fall of 2010, a stained-glass window was saved by an anonymous donor and restored. This spring, the window was installed at The Gathering Place Community Church in Ridgetown. See here for details. 

Former commercial or industrial building, now a home.

Palmyra Cemetery

Palmyra, once the site of the famous Guyitt House, can scarcely be recognized as a hamlet at this point. However, there was a post office by that name from 1874 until 1918. 

The cemetery at 14048 Talbot Trail (Hwy. 3) has a lot of older graves arranged into cement pads:



One of the older monuments shows what appears to be grapes. These might symbolize the blood of Christ, the eucharist, and the promise of eternal life ... but might also signify fertility and abundance. The chain around the clasped hands represents John and Maria Barker's unbreakable bond, which not even death could sever. 

Rev. Henry Coates, Methodist minister. A weeping willow symbolizes mourning.

Abram Eberle, Deacon of the regular Baptist Church of Orford. According to ancestry.ca he was born in the U.S.A. in 1798 and died at Palmyra in 1851.

A poignant memorial to "Charlie," a son of John Wesley Knight and his wife Elizabeth A. Eberle. The lamb signifies innocence, but it's worth remembering that Christ is the "lamb of God," a sacrifice for humanity. The child is now safe with the Good Shepherd. 

The unfortunate Lucy, daughter of John and Jane Scott, was born in 1838 and married Christopher Matthew Smith before dying at the young age of 27 in 1865. Note the name of the stonemason, David R. Riggs, Chatham. According to a Kent County directory, Riggs was still in business on Talbot Street in 1880.

Keyes Cemetery

Across the road from Palmyra is the tiny Keyes family cemetery. These four stones may once have stood farther back on a pioneer farm and have been moved closer to the road. Note the use of the name Lorenzo, an unusual given name more common among Italian and Spanish families. 


Louks Cemetery

Another small family cemetery perched on a hill (or what passes for a hill in flat Chatham-Kent) next to a cornfield at 19119 Kenesserie Road. Second from left we see the old fashioned Christian name "Charity."

After an overly-long lunch at nearby Erieau, the Graveyard Girls visited Botany in Howard Township. Yes, Botany, as in the study of plants. No, I don't know how this lonely part of the former Kent County received its moniker. Cornelius McBrayne operated a post office by this name from 1865 to 1900. Was he honouring a relative sent to Botany Bay in Australia? Or is the name a reference to the dense woods found in pioneer days? If you know, do share.

There are two cemeteries at Botany, Methodist and Presbyterian, across the road from one another. In other words, finding a relative involves knowing which church they attended. There were indeed churches of both denominations in the area. Today, St. John's Botany United Church still holds services at 12377 Botany Line near Kent Bridge. The former Botany Howard Road United Church was demolished in 1998.

Monument at Botany.


On the Presbyterian side of the road, a monument to Edwin & Edna, twin children of Charles and Elizabeth (Chalcroft) Keech, born September 12, 1888, died 25 days later on October 7 (family info from ancestry.ca).

On the Methodist side, an inscription to Rhoda and Bruce McKay, a set of twins born November 11, 1880, and dying July 14, 1881, the children of John C. and Maria McKay. The Graveyard Girls discussed whether this family name is pronounced "McKay" or "McEye" without reaching a conclusion. As for me, I'm wondering whether it was common for twins to die on the same day, as apparently both sets of twins here did. While life expectancy for twins in the nineteenth century was often low, I am wondering if birth complications or a shared infection led to the twins' demise at the same time?

After leaving Botany, the dead-tired Graveyard Girls headed for home. But there will be more cemeteries in my future. I can feel it in my bones.

Three Graveyard Girls - myself, Ruth, and Rosemary - at Duart. Spooky photo in glorious black and white courtesy of Maggie Brannen.

*For more information, see William G. Stewart, Nature Rambles, 2000, pp. 56-62. 

Monday, August 5, 2024

Day Trips: Morpeth


Historical plaque at Morpeth features
the bell from S. S. No. 2, Howard Twp.
Morpeth, Chatham-Kent is a village after my own heart. It features a vanished lake port, deserted buildings, a pioneer cemetery, and monuments to its earlier citizens. What could be better for this backroads blogger? 

The community at Talbot Trail (Hwy. 3) and Hill Road (Hwy. 17) really started three kilometres farther south, where Big Creek flowed into Lake Erie. The river mouth formed a small harbour where wheat and other grains could be exported and a variety of goods shipped in. The port, precursor to Morpeth, was named Antrim. 

The first settlers at Antrim were the Ruddle family, formerly of Co. Antrim, Ireland. The Ruddle family was extensive and their genealogy complex, but, for those interested, there's a family history here. Family members founded a store or trading post, the first in Kent County on Lake Erie, as well as other businesses, including a tavern. The creek that meandered through their farms provided power for pioneer mills. In the 1830s, it appeared that Antrim would be a thriving community for generations to come.

Not that all was idyllic. Life was hard. Among the early burials at Morpeth Cemetery on the Talbot Trail are John and Thomas Ruddle, both of whom died on June 4, 1822, aged 39 and 27: 


The words at the bottom read: "They were inseparable in their lives and in their death they were not divided." Historian Marjorie Giddis suggested they may have drowned.* 

Eventually, something went wrong among these resourceful Ruddles. In the 1840s,  a partnership between Robert, William and James Ruddle was the driving force behind the community. When the partnership dissolved, the port village declined. Eventually, heirs of the Ruddle family sold hundreds of acres to an Anglican priest with the unlikely name of Rev. Humpisch Massingberd. Hoping to revive the community, Massingberd had this plan produced: 


The number of streets looks ambitious. But, unfortunately for Rev. M., the port had silted up. Howard Township didn't want the expense of keeping a high bridge across the harbour in good repair so it built one on ground level, a mistake that prevented boats from entering the harbour. Apparently Massingberd gave up and returned to his native England. His family stayed in the area until the 1940s but Antrim had reached the end. 

Unlike most "ghost towns," Antrim has been memorialized in poetry:

Ghost Port, by Frances Gillard Harvey

                            Antrim,
                            Fair and sure of name,
                            What happened    
                            To your glory, fame -
                            Your silted harbour,
                            Lying low,
                            Where bullrush, now,
                            And sumac grow;
                            Your brigs, your wharf,
                            Your land bridge, high;
                            Your warehouse, post,
                            Your mill close by? 

Well, as land was cleared and drained, the waterpower for the mills diminished and they were abandoned. The poem continues:

                            Antrim,
                            Only this, I know,
                            Your fathers, early,
                            Perished. So,
                            Failing times,
                            Combined with stress, 
                            Your ship was left 
                            Quite rudderless,
                            And that it foundered,
                            Less, perchance,
                            To do with pride
                            Than, circumstance!

Later, shipping facilities were built just south of Morpeth at Morpeth Dock, also known as Hill's dock after founder Erastus Hill. The map below shows Morpeth dock surrounded by Hill family landowners:

Section from Howard Township, Illustrated Historical Atlas of the Counties of Essex & Kent, 1880.

Morpeth had more luck as a community. Originally named Howard after the township, it was renamed after Lord Morpeth who visited his friend Thomas Talbot in about 1842. Although farther from the lake, it was on an important road. By the 1860s, it had as many as three hotels, 21 businesses, and perhaps 600 people.** W. L. Smith, in Pioneers of Old Ontario, describes Morpeth: "That thriving little village formed one of the greatest market centres for wheat in Western Ontario. At that time there was no Ridgetown and very little of Chatham. In fact, farmers then teamed grain from the immediate vicinity of where the Maple City now stands to sell it in Morpeth. It was a common thing to see three or four vessels lying at the dock and the lake front taking on grain, while a stretch of teams a mile and a half long, waiting for delivery, extended back along the road."***

One of Canada's greatest 19th-century poets, Archibald Lampman (1861-99), was born here. Just to the east of the village on the Talbot Trail is Trinity Anglican Church, where his father, also named Archibald, was minister. Since the family moved to the Peterborough area the year Junior turned six, he can't have remembered much about Morpeth and I doubt if he immortalized it in poetry. However, the Government of Canada built a monument to him on the church grounds:

Plaque reads: "Born in Morpeth, Upper Canada, Lampman spent most of his short adult life unhappily working as a clerk in the Post Office Department in Ottawa, for poetry was his true vocation. One of the "sixties group" which wrote Canada's first noteworthy English verse, his work shows the influence of English writers, particularly Keats and Arnold and of American nineteenth-century literature. Writer of many poems describing Ottawa's rural environs, he complemented his interest in Nature by commenting poetically on the dehumanizing effects of a mechanized capitalist society. He died at Ottawa."

Perched on a low hill - or what passes for a hill in the plains of Chatham-Kent - sits Trinity Anglican, east of Morpeth. There are magnificent views of Lake Erie from the grounds. 

Morpeth, on an important east-west road and close to the lake, prospered for some time. Then came the news that a railway would be built from Fort Erie to Windsor. Morpeth and Ridgetown competed for the tracks, but, unfortunately for Morpeth, the Canada Southern Railway was built through Ridgetown in 1872. From then on, Ridgetown grew and Morpeth declined in importance and population. You might say there was Less-Peth (groan). I'd guesstimate the current population of the village at about 250. While there are many people living here - retirees mostly - most business has disappeared, leaving deserted or deteriorating buildings at the main intersection:

I can remember this being an antique store a few years back.




But some buildings are being restored. David Benson and partner have restored the former Morpeth United Church, built 1877, and converted the lower level into an Airbnb. 

Note former entrance was on corner at left. This change was made years ago, not by present owner.

The upstairs sanctuary is being restored.

Next to the church is a pioneer home moved from another location. It's also a work in progress:


David's place, on the other side of the village, has also been beautifully restored. It can be difficult to see through summer foliage:


* The information in the link, the plan of Antrim, information about John and Thomas Ruddle, and the poem are from Marjorie Giddis, As the story is told: A History of Morpeth and Community. Ridgetown: The New Horizon Committee, 1986. 

** But 19th century population estimates often include everyone who picked up the mail at a particular post office. This estimate might have included numerous surrounding farm families. 

*** Quoted by R. M. R., "Records Reveal Antrim Village Was No Myth." London Free Press February 22, 1947. The Maple City is Chatham. I have no idea who R. M. R. was. Old-time historians who contributed to the F.P.'s Looking Over Western Ontario page often went by their initials. 

Monday, June 26, 2023

Ruin Porn: The Guyitt House

The old Guyitt house on the Talbot Trail was crumbling for a long time. This 1840s farmhouse on the north side of the road east of Palmyra attracted a lot of attention in its abandoned state. Folks often stopped to take a picture of it. 

Personally, I never did. I always meant to. Too late now. It's gone.

So I have to look online for pictures. Not a problem. So many people stopped to take a photo that it became one of the most photographed homes in Ontario, perhaps in Canada. And the photos were posted online:

Screenshot, June 23, 2023

The Guyitt house during daylight. The Guyitt house at dusk. The Guyitt house in sunshine. The Guyitt house on a cloudy day. The Guyitt house covered in summer foliage. The Guyitt house surrounded by snow. The Guyitt house photoshopped. You get the idea.

Why was such a popular place demolished? 

Last year the municipality of Chatham-Kent received one single complaint from a citizen concerned about the building's condition. Based on that, a building inspector was sent to look. The owner did have a "No Trespassing" sign up and a wire across the laneway. But the inspector deemed the building unsafe. (Duh. It was a shell.) There was concern that the signage wouldn't stop intruders from going in. So this week Chatham-Kent ordered the owner to have it demolished. 

The incident raises a number of questions in my mind. First, whatever happened to personal responsibility? If a prowler insists on exploring an obviously dangerous wreck, and is injured, isn't that his own fault? What part of "No Trespassing" do some people not understand? Why is it up to the municipality to save people from themselves? 

Second, why did a busybody complain about a ruin so many people admired? A recent article states an online petition dedicated to saving the building gathered over 4,000 signatures. Did the mischief maker not see all the people stopping to take photos? Did he or she have a personal grudge against the owner? While obviously beyond repair, the house was in the middle of nowhere and didn't endanger anyone else's property, as it might in the city. What real harm did it do? 

Third, why did people love this ruin? Well, that's easier. 1) It looked haunted and mysterious. 2) Nowadays Ontarians have fewer pioneer homes to photograph. Many have been unsympathetically altered or torn down. 3) People love photographing ruins. In fact, there's a movement in photography called "ruin porn," chronicling the decay of the built environment. 

Fourth, why do people like ruins at all? Anywhere? Wouldn't you think they'd make people uneasy? After all, we, like our buildings, will one day be gone. No matter how much progress we make as a society, we'll end like the Guyitt house. Or Pompeii. Or much of Detroit. Few of us like to be reminded of our own mortality.

These may be the reasons:

* Curiosity. Visitors wonder: Who lived there? Why did they leave? What would they think if they saw their home now? The past is more interesting than the present.

* Nostalgia. Ruins remind people of the "good old days." Old buildings, even in bad shape, remind us of simpler times.  

* Local architectural history. Ruins provide a record of historic building methods, local materials, how earlier inhabitants adapted to their environment. Modern buildings tend to be the same everywhere, all over the world. 

* Tourism. A ruin can be a draw to a certain area. When city dwellers go on Sunday afternoon drives, we like to see things we don't see at home in the boring suburbs. That includes ruins. 

* Aesthetics. Let's face it, there's a strange attractiveness in seeing something made by humans gradually destroyed by the ravages of time and nature. Ruins are romantic. They spark the imagination of artists, photographers, and writers. 

And my last question. I believe the Guyitt house might have attracted a few tourists to the Talbot Trail. There was certainly no other reason to visit Palmyra. (If you blinked, you'd miss it.) So when a place is as obviously admired as the Guyitt house, shouldn't the municipality have a better process in place than destruction after one complaint? 

Abandoned home near London, photographed 2022. How long will this stand?