Amusement park started a century ago
The Hamilton Spectator
Paul Wilson
StreetBeat / 905-526-3391
Tuesday August19, 2003
Today at noon, finally, the Canadian National Exhibition opens for another year and reminds us that summer is sadly on the wane.
This is a good tune to remember a dearly departed local institution, Hamilton's ex-Ex, the Beach Strip Amusement Park. It began 100 years ago, and 25 years ago, it died.
At first, they called it the Canal Amusement Park. It sat right there by the ship channel, near the bridge and the stone lighthouse.
The park began modestly in 1903, with a bathhouse, snack bars and the Crazy House. Even that was too much for the gentry who had built grand summer homes on the sandy spit.
Then the Canadian Amusement Company announced plans to boost fun at the beach.
The local Beach Commission ruled the Strip in those days. Its chairman, a man named Van Allan, was known as "boss of the beach."
Here's what the Hamilton Times of Aug. 30, 1907, had to say about his intentions:
"Mr. Van Allan has stated privately that Beach residents don't want public amusements to attract crowds from the city... the citizens who desire to go to the Beach, their natural resort, to get the lake breezes."
The commission passed a bylaw banning "any exhibition of waxworks, circus, menagerie, riding or any other such shows usually exhibited by showmen."
Well, there must have been some kind of uprising. An Eli ferris wheel had arrived by 1912 and two years later the park got a genuine Herschell Little Beauty carousel.
In the glory days, 40,000 people would head to the park on weekends, many taking the Grand Trunk radial line from downtown. It was the era of straw boaters, sun parasols, boardwalks, the annual pajama parade of the Ohquit-yerknockinus Club. There were roller skaters on a wooden dance floor, later the Pier Ballroom, with Sunday night talent contests and visits from stars like Duke Ellington.
In the early '50s, the Knapp brothers took over the park. They were amusement park czars, in Crystal Beach, Port Dover, Port Stanley and Grand Bend.
On the Beach Strip, they had about 20 rides. Half were little ones for kids and the rest were the usual manglers - Wild Mouse, Octopus, Roll-O-Plane.
There was a zoo - Sam the bear, a bobcat, a monkey named Stompy and two sorry penguins. There were foot-longs at Rotten Ralphie's. The games guy was Gerry Gauthier.
All these years after the last metal milk bottle took a tumble, Gerry is still around and lives near the water in Stoney Creek. Sometimes he goes back to the scene of the crime.
Gerry grew up in Montreal, one of nine kids in a third-floor tenement. Summer amusements had to be free, like jumping into the Lachine Canal.
Gerry ended up in Hamilton as the war ended. He went to the LaSalle Club "and I saw this beautiful little dark-haired woman." That would be Noelle and little she is, about four-foot-11. Gerry's a few inches taller.
They danced down at the Beach, won jitter¬bug contests, got married, had kids. Gerry had a good factory job, but that was never enough.
"With five kids, you've got to hustle."
He started part-tune mechanic duties at the park. The Bump-Em Cars were always breaking down. The Tilt-A-Wheel always needed adjusting.
In 1964 Gerry took over the games on a per¬centage basis and put all his kids - Monique, Michele, Daniel, Claudette and Ginette - to work.
His empire included Spill-the-Milk, Fish Pond and a game that involved putting a beachball in a toilet. All were legit, Gerry says. No one believed it, but they still slapped down quarters.
Gerry kept a keen eye out for "sharpies," his term for guys who won too much. After some costly lessons, he put a sign on every game: "We reserve the right to limit any player."
In 1974, the city didn't renew the park's 20-year lease and put the owners on a year-to-year basis.
It was a tough way to run a business and Gerry saw receipts erode. He understood when park owners announced in April 1978 that it wasn't worth it anymore. They had an auction. Top item was the Scrambler, which brought $18,000.
Gerry walks along the new waterfront trail and looks at that scrubby land near the Skyway. The concrete pads are still there amidst the weeds. "This would have been the bingo," he says. "That was Kiddyland over there."
He's 78 and still likes a midway.
He goes to the Ex, strolls past the games.
"They try to hustle me," he says. "I feel like saying, 'I did that for years. I know what's going on.' But I just say, 'No thanks.'"
StreetBeat appears Tuesday, Thursday, Saturda) Contact Paul Wilson at pwilson@thespec.com or 905-526-3391.
Photo- SHERYL NADLER, THE HAMILTON SPECTOR
Gerry Gauthier saved a baseball and milk bottle from his days in charge of games at the park, below where the Skyway bridge and QEW are now situat
The Hamilton Spectator
Paul Wilson
StreetBeat / 905-526-3391
Tuesday August19, 2003
Today at noon, finally, the Canadian National Exhibition opens for another year and reminds us that summer is sadly on the wane.
This is a good tune to remember a dearly departed local institution, Hamilton's ex-Ex, the Beach Strip Amusement Park. It began 100 years ago, and 25 years ago, it died.
At first, they called it the Canal Amusement Park. It sat right there by the ship channel, near the bridge and the stone lighthouse.
The park began modestly in 1903, with a bathhouse, snack bars and the Crazy House. Even that was too much for the gentry who had built grand summer homes on the sandy spit.
Then the Canadian Amusement Company announced plans to boost fun at the beach.
The local Beach Commission ruled the Strip in those days. Its chairman, a man named Van Allan, was known as "boss of the beach."
Here's what the Hamilton Times of Aug. 30, 1907, had to say about his intentions:
"Mr. Van Allan has stated privately that Beach residents don't want public amusements to attract crowds from the city... the citizens who desire to go to the Beach, their natural resort, to get the lake breezes."
The commission passed a bylaw banning "any exhibition of waxworks, circus, menagerie, riding or any other such shows usually exhibited by showmen."
Well, there must have been some kind of uprising. An Eli ferris wheel had arrived by 1912 and two years later the park got a genuine Herschell Little Beauty carousel.
In the glory days, 40,000 people would head to the park on weekends, many taking the Grand Trunk radial line from downtown. It was the era of straw boaters, sun parasols, boardwalks, the annual pajama parade of the Ohquit-yerknockinus Club. There were roller skaters on a wooden dance floor, later the Pier Ballroom, with Sunday night talent contests and visits from stars like Duke Ellington.
In the early '50s, the Knapp brothers took over the park. They were amusement park czars, in Crystal Beach, Port Dover, Port Stanley and Grand Bend.
On the Beach Strip, they had about 20 rides. Half were little ones for kids and the rest were the usual manglers - Wild Mouse, Octopus, Roll-O-Plane.
There was a zoo - Sam the bear, a bobcat, a monkey named Stompy and two sorry penguins. There were foot-longs at Rotten Ralphie's. The games guy was Gerry Gauthier.
All these years after the last metal milk bottle took a tumble, Gerry is still around and lives near the water in Stoney Creek. Sometimes he goes back to the scene of the crime.
Gerry grew up in Montreal, one of nine kids in a third-floor tenement. Summer amusements had to be free, like jumping into the Lachine Canal.
Gerry ended up in Hamilton as the war ended. He went to the LaSalle Club "and I saw this beautiful little dark-haired woman." That would be Noelle and little she is, about four-foot-11. Gerry's a few inches taller.
They danced down at the Beach, won jitter¬bug contests, got married, had kids. Gerry had a good factory job, but that was never enough.
"With five kids, you've got to hustle."
He started part-tune mechanic duties at the park. The Bump-Em Cars were always breaking down. The Tilt-A-Wheel always needed adjusting.
In 1964 Gerry took over the games on a per¬centage basis and put all his kids - Monique, Michele, Daniel, Claudette and Ginette - to work.
His empire included Spill-the-Milk, Fish Pond and a game that involved putting a beachball in a toilet. All were legit, Gerry says. No one believed it, but they still slapped down quarters.
Gerry kept a keen eye out for "sharpies," his term for guys who won too much. After some costly lessons, he put a sign on every game: "We reserve the right to limit any player."
In 1974, the city didn't renew the park's 20-year lease and put the owners on a year-to-year basis.
It was a tough way to run a business and Gerry saw receipts erode. He understood when park owners announced in April 1978 that it wasn't worth it anymore. They had an auction. Top item was the Scrambler, which brought $18,000.
Gerry walks along the new waterfront trail and looks at that scrubby land near the Skyway. The concrete pads are still there amidst the weeds. "This would have been the bingo," he says. "That was Kiddyland over there."
He's 78 and still likes a midway.
He goes to the Ex, strolls past the games.
"They try to hustle me," he says. "I feel like saying, 'I did that for years. I know what's going on.' But I just say, 'No thanks.'"
StreetBeat appears Tuesday, Thursday, Saturda) Contact Paul Wilson at pwilson@thespec.com or 905-526-3391.
Photo- SHERYL NADLER, THE HAMILTON SPECTOR
Gerry Gauthier saved a baseball and milk bottle from his days in charge of games at the park, below where the Skyway bridge and QEW are now situat