June 17, 2016 : New photo galleries of Modern Welland, the Welland High School Fire, and a few more tombstones in the Hillside Cemetery P2 gallery (family names and descriptions will be added as time permits).
WHY are we doing this project? ..To Preserve History.
Much information is being lost, newspapers destroyed, historic buildings being torn down, bridges disappearing. The children of today need to know the history of the towns where they live. We the people are the ones who can carefully preserve this precious history for them. It is our responsibility as the older generation to leave stories, pictures and artifacts for them so that when they become older and wonder what went before, it will be available. That is what this website is about. Preserving the history of Welland for future generations.
An article from the The Welland Tribune and Telegraph, 11 July 1922, describes what we are trying to present with this website.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: We thank the The Welland Tribune and Telegraph for their contribution.
[IMAGE AT UPPER RIGHT]: ” The Welland Canals and their Communities | Hardcover, John Jackson ”
Use the main Search box at the top of this page for your general research. When you need a narrower search, you may like to use the Search feature above to limit a search within a Family group.
[Welland Telegraph, 18 September 1891]
There’s a hole filled with bull frogs galore
Just east of the Red Rocker furniture store
Where pollywogs thrive
And good citizens strive
Some plan to contrive
To keep the foul smell from their houses
Which the breeze o’er the frog pond arouses.
Filled with rubbish, and dirt, and old bones
Rags and tin cans, a few bricks and stones
Its water grow thick
Till the smell makes you sick
And you pass by it quick
Heave a sigh of relief as you strike the fresh air
Away from the fumes of the pollywogs’ lair.
It’s bad for the health of those who live near
It keeps them from sleep and diseases they fear
Go by when you please
One whiff of the breeze-
Whew! Limburger cheese!
Put a cork in your nose, give the place a wide berth
And make up your mind it’s the worst spot on earth.
Its fame has gone forth through the land
The stale, heavy odor is always at hand
Till you close up your smeller
And swear at the “feller”
Who owns the old cellar
And vow if you had him-the man of such riches
You’d dump him right into it, body and breeches.
It’s a boon to the doctors and vendors of pills
For it adds a big chunk to their customers’ bills
The waters are green
With diseases they team
Till it’s well to be seen
That with typhoid and ague it’s filled to the top
That foul smelling hole on the old vacant lot.
Complaints had been made without number
Till the council woke up from their slumber
Then aldermen wise
With opening eyes
Paid heed to the cries
Of the public which turned up its suffering nose
And threatened such wanton neglect to expose.
The owners were told of its horrible state
And warned to get on to a good lively gait
And fill up the place
That was a menace
To the whole human race
Or the laws of the land would be brought into use
To compel them to drain off that hole full of juice.
The summer is over and still it remains-
No pen can describe the filth it contains-
So now, Mr. Mayor
To make the thing square
Rise up and declare
That the hole shall be filled and no time be lost
And the owners charged up with the whole of the cost.
[Canada First and other poems by James A Ross. 1920. Page 50.]
The sap is runnin’ from the tree,
The crow is cawin’ loud
The sky is dancin’ bright and blue
And scatterin’ every cloud;
The bumble bees are buzzin’ round,
The air is like a dream;
We’ll soon be catchin’ catfish
From the old mill-stream.
The blackbird’s pourin’ forth his song,
The frog is croakin’ gay,
The robin flies from tree to tree
And pipes his merry lay;
The speckled hen is cacklin’ loud,
The sun sets pink and cream;
We’ll soon be catchin catfish
From the old mill-stream.
The grass is springin’ fresh and green,
The tree-buds shootin’ out,
The blue-bells and the daisies
Are poppin’ all about;
The brook is tumblin’ o’er the rocks,
Its spray a silvery gleam;
We’re pullin’ out the catfish
From the old mill-stream.
By James A. Ross
Let all our voices ring with praise
To Him from whom all blessings flow.
Join in with harp, and may all strains
In one Thanksgiving chorus grow.
Give thanks for sunshine’s azure sky
Scarce e’er destroyed by storm king’s blast;
For memories dear, whose golden chain
Links present family to the past.
Give thanks for all the bounteous wealth
Of harvest gathered o’er the world:
For peace within our native land,
And Freedom’s ensign still unfurled.
Give thanks for wealth, for health, for life,
For ever blessing, great or small.
Praise Him in thought, in word, in deed;
The precious fountain of them all.
Taken from “Canada First and other poems by James A. Ross, 1920“
THEATRE CRITIC AND LOVELORN COLUMNIST
The Sisters and myself at the Convent of Less Said are most excited about the new adventure of our very own Sister Mary JudgeNot, Theatre Critic and newly appointed Lovelorn Columnist. She has been selected from numerous applicants at the convent to rewrite the newspaper commentary of the late Dorothy Dix, a forerunner of the modern advice columnist, for this most distinguished Welland County history website. In her own unique style, Sister will attempt a few fashionable words after each article to illuminate the advice of Miss Dix.
[May 4, 2015] We just added some pictures of Murals. Enjoy!
Written and photographed by S.
In the 1990s I took a stroll downtown Welland, with my camera. I photographed the lovely murals. Colourful scenes depicting historical moments.
The project was started in 1986, by the city of Welland, to beautify the city of Welland. They commissioned artists from across Canada to paint murals on the side of buildings.
The murals at one time were a great tourist attraction.
Welland’s murals hold many memories for the people of Welland.
Unfortunately, many of these murals are in disrepair and some have disappeared. There was no plan in place to maintain these murals resulting in their demise.
|It has been a wonderful year working on the special old articles we so enjoy gifting to our historically minded friends. We sincerely hope that this work will be available to the children of the future that will share our interest in the stories of the past. As Santa proclaims in this 1931 photo, “These Are My Jewels!”|