A black-and-white photo shows a forest fire coming down a gully between two hills.
A forest fire pictured in Coldstream in 1921.

The 2023 Fire Season

2023 has been reported as Canada’s worst fire season. Although this fact cannot be denied, it may or may not provide some comfort to know that folks in and around Vernon have been battling blazes for hundreds of years.

Traditionally, the Indigenous inhabitants of the Okanagan-Similkameen areas practiced controlled burning as a means to maintain forest and grassland ecosystems. Once settlers arrived in the area, the Vernon News, then a farm and livestock journal, often featured advice on how to protect one’s property from fire damage. For example, an 1894 article states, in no uncertain terms, that “the cutting and clearing away of the forest for a radius around the settlement sufficient to ensure safety would be neither an expensive nor a laborious undertaking.”

1900s-1910s

A heatwave in May of 1901 wreaked havoc on the Valley, and the South Okanagan was particularly hard-hit. A forest fire near what is now the Nickel Plate Nordic Centre outside of Penticton saw bridges and culverts burn down, and fallen timber litter the road. At the same time, the whole town of Fairview (now a ghost town) came out to fight a fire that was creeping towards their properties down a nearby gully.

In 1912, the newspaper printed “Six Good Rules for Care with Fire in the Mountains,” one of which was a reminder to knock out one’s pipe ashes or throw cigar and cigarette stumps only where there is nothing to catch fire. In 1922, the “cigarette menace” was once again discussed, with the paper reporting that hundreds of the fires recorded that year in Canada were “due to the evil habit of tossing away lighted tobacco.”

1920s-1950s and beyond

Sometime in the late 1920s, Silver Star Mountain experienced a devastating fire, which was unfortunately not unusual for the region as evidenced by the installation of a forest fire lookout at the mountain’s summit more than two decades earlier. In the spring of 1930, Bill Osborn, David Ricardo, and Michael Freeman became among the first to ski down the mountain – and later described seeing a number of snags (still-standing dead trees) that have been destroyed by this fire a few years earlier. 

In July of 1940, a series of forest fires ravaged the Sugar Lake area. Men were pulled away from their homes and work to fight the blazes, which finally abated thanks to heavy rain. In 1950, a mid-summer fire at Kingfisher was finally brought under control after several long weeks. Fires continued to ravage the Okanagan Valley in the years following, including the unforgettable White Rock Lake fire of 2021.

Thankfully, the area’s inhabitants have demonstrated their resiliency in the face of nature’s wrath time-and-time again, helped along at times by some much-needed rain.

 

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!

Gwyneth Evans, Head of Archives

 

 

 

 

 

A wooden cross with trees in the background. The cross reads "Stewart Bain Electrocuted Nov 23 1913 Age 24"
Stewart Bain’s cross, photographed by Nancy Josland Dalsin and courtesy of FindAGrave.

A sad Story

A lonely cross tucked in a quiet corner of Vernon’s Pleasant Valley Cemetery reveals a sad story. On November 23, 1913, 24-year-old Stewart Bain was electrocuted while working on a power pole at the corner of 32nd Street and Coldstream Avenue, and was killed instantly.

Stewart was born on May 1, 1888, in Nova Scotia; in the 1901 Canadian Census, he is recorded as the adopted son of 78-year-old Ronald McDonald. In 1911, he was boarding in Hants, Nova Scotia, and working as a Blacksmith.

A silver lining

By 1913, he was working as part of a Vancouver Electric Company crew that traveled to Vernon to work for the City.

An inquest after his death determined that he had accidentally come in contact with a live wire while performing his work. His funeral was held 10 days later, and it is said that all electric linemen and groundmen in the city’s employ were in attendance. Although he had only been in Vernon for a few months, Stewart Bain was well-respected, made evident by an outpouring of floral tributes.

This tragedy did have a silver lining, though, as the investigations into the incident led to a tightening of safety protocols for electric workers across the province.

 

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!

Gwyneth Evans, Head of Archives

 

 

 

 

 

For the summer months, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!

A young woman wearing a necklace of bear claws and a traditional Indigenous outfit is staring away from the camera.
E. Pauline Johnson, photographed ca. 1895. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons (Public Domain).

“Unforeseen audacities”

In April of 1899, a shining star passed through Vernon that turned many curious heads. Emily Pauline Johnson, Indigenous poet and reciter, came to town for a week of performance and thrilling sensation. Her appearances quickly became the center of local attention. Johnson was indeed already a figure of well-known talent. Her stay in Vernon earned her a spotlight in the papers and praise from an audience self-reportedly “not the easiest persons in the world to please.” Her likeableness stemmed – for this city’s folk – from her eloquence, captivation, humour, and humility. In one sitting, she could put her audience in stitches, then minutes later mesmerize them with heart-stopping lyrics.

Her popularity may be surprising to us now, knowing what we do about the social dynamics in 1899. We may wonder what it was like for Johnson, as an Indigenous woman, to stand alone before an overwhelmingly white audience holding, at best, thinly-veiled racist attitudes. Reports about Johnson bear the mark of white bias; her style is described as “full of unforeseen audacities” and at the same time, “a lofty strain of the purest patriotism.” Especially compared to Johnson’s own self-image, these interpretations call into question whether the audience, who so adored E. Pauline Johnson, really understood her messages at all.

Tekahionwake

Johnson was half Indigenous and half English. Her father, G.H.M. Johnson, was Chief of the Mohawk Tribe, part of the Iroquois Six Nations. Her mother, Emily S. Howell, hailed from Bristol. Much of Pauline Johnson’s writing centered around her Indigenous background and emphasized the relationship – the violence and disrespect – spearheaded by white settlers toward her people. She went by her Mohawk name, Tekahionwake, just as her father had his: Onwanonsyshon.

Her pride in her Indigenous identity further muddles Vernon’s reaction to her performances. It is hard to imagine the population of 1899 welcoming with open arms a public figure that challenged so many of their social, political, and religious convictions. Much of her poetry was not subtle, either. “A Cry from an Indian Wife,” for example, concludes with the lines: “By right, by birth we Indians own these lands, / Though starved, crushed, plundered, lies our nation low. / Perhaps the white man’s God has willed it so.” Her meaning is unmistakable.

Message not received

The prolific poet passed away in Vancouver in 1913 after battling cancer. News of her death reached Vernon to much despair and grief. An article was published in the Vernon News detailing her passing, an article that spanned two entire page-long columns. The account included a short description of her early life as well as her accomplishments as an artist. It was undeniably a heart-felt tribute.

It is left for us to ponder, then, the paradox of E. Pauline Johnson’s impact and the simultaneous persistence of unchecked anti-Indigenous racism in Vernon. Her words pierced so deeply, yet her message was somehow lost in translation – ignored, as is very likely the case. Johnson’s denunciation of colonialism must be remembered now, even if it was not then. The introduction to her book, The Shagganappi, quotes of her: “Never let anyone call me a white woman. There are those who think they pay me a compliment in saying that I am just like a white woman. My aim, my joy, my pride is to sing the glories of my own people.”

 

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!

Rebeka Beganova, Collections Intern

 

 

For the summer months, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!

A sepia image of a multi-story house, taken from the side, and mostly concealed by trees and shrubs.
The Vernon College building, at this point already redubbed as the Cochrane House. Photographed in 1906.

Amid Vernon’s social and technological advancements of the 1890s, many minds turned to the future generations already planting roots in the city. Would they have what they needed to live full, prosperous lives? What would entice them to move in and stay in? It became apparent that for the city to fulfill its potential as an Okanagan hub, local education begged improvement – specifically, it required the development of a solid post-secondary institution. In 1892, Frederick A. Meyer stepped up to the challenge and founded Vernon Private College.

Right idea, rIGHT tIME (MAYBE)

Multiple factors led Meyer to believe Vernon College would thrive. He saw the area’s mild climate and growing community as components of an inevitable “education centre,” or scholarly hotspot. Advertisements for the school were ambitiously welcoming (and in hindsight, unflinchingly sexist) and stated that “the college is intended for young men desirous to study for any of the professions or public examinations.” Subjects such as book-keeping, painting, and science were points of pride, and those of mathematics, foreign languages, and drawing were also promoted.

 As both founder and principal, Meyer ran the establishment with seemingly little help, at least by today’s standards. Additionally, the staff’s teaching credentials were suspiciously undermentioned, as in the following quote from a newspaper article: “Should anyone wish to take up any special class of work not mentioned, Mr. Meyer or one of his assistants will be only too pleased to instruct them.” The sky, apparently, was the limit. Nonetheless, Vernon College seemed set up for success. The first term began on Jan. 8, 1893, with options to board (and take advantage of Mrs. Meyer’s cooking), attend night classes, or book private lessons. Over the next few years, the school even set up its own student awards, including a Warden’s prize for classics: Latin and Greek.

a qUALIFIED lEADER

Meyer’s background was never much discussed in the school’s advertisements. Publicly, his teaching credentials were as elusive as the rest of the staff’s; however, his life experiences actually made him one of the most qualified people for the job. Meyer was originally from England, and while young he began working for the shipping trade between his home country and China. Later, he settled in Japan, where he spent twenty years as the headmaster of the Japanese Royal Naval College. His work earned him the Order of the Rising Sun from the Emperor, an award that required the Queen’s permission to be bestowed upon a British subject.

Like a pair of dedicated soulmates, Meyer and Vernon College met their end within years of each other. The college building was soon transformed into the Cochrane House, and by 1906, it was up for sale. Meyer died from apoplexy on Sept. 1, 1908, after falling into a coma – right at the beginning of the school year. It is unclear why Vernon College lasted so few years. Perhaps it simply changed form and moved elsewhere. From the records of its existence, though, it seemed a brilliant flame that simply burned a little too bright.

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!

Rebeka Beganova, Collections Intern

 

 

For the months of June and July, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!

A display of Vernon fruit at the Spokane Fruit Fair, 1909.

International Renown

With the summer in full swing, Vernon residents are once again reminded of the delicacy that is Okanagan-grown fruit. Fresh produce is a staple in seasonal menus, and it has been for over a century. Even in 1891, fruit production and export was projected as a leading industry in the Okanagan. Lists predicting the most profitable harvests were published in the Vernon News each year, along with detailed diagrams for fruit packing that included satisfying photographs of the desired results (such as the one included here). All the effort for quality and aesthetics was not wasted, as the fame of Okanagan fruit soon reached around the world. In 1905, the Royal Horticultural Society Exhibition in London awarded eight silver medals to produce submissions from the BC area – and five of those went to Okanagan growers.

A black-and-white image of a man wearing a cap and suspenders and standing next to a stack of apple boxes.
An unknown man pictured with stacks of fruit boxes, 1920. Behind the fame of Okanagan fruit was (and is) the labour of countless workers.

Swallow the apples, not the pride

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the glory of the fruit industry became a point of fierce pride for many. Innumerable newspaper articles either explicitly or implicitly compared Vernon produce to that of other places. In the late 1800s, a scheme by American companies was uncovered where they were apparently re-branding Canadian apples as the “best American apples” before shipping out to England. Their own products, along with lower-quality Canadian, were passed off as belonging solely to the latter. The indignation and disgust was clear in local reports of these events.

 A humourous example of how quickly pride could take hold is the time a prosperous peach tree sprung up at Trout Creek. An excited letter from the president of a mining company cropped up in the papers, in which he stated, “I am more convinced than ever that we are quite likely to become a good deal more than small potatoes in peach production.” Keep in mind, this comment came about after witnessing one promising tree. A reply was printed shortly after, where a Mr. Robinson (who, to his credit, at least tasted the peaches) “found them, if anything, larger and of better flavor than [those of] the Lambly ranch.” Simply put, Vernon and surrounding areas felt unbeatable in their industry.

Defending one’s Honour

Nothing raised the fruit growers’ hackles quite like public attacks from the competition. In 1892, the president of the Ontario Fruit-Growers’ Association, Mr. Boulter, reported to the Winnipeg Free Press that there was no Okanagan equal to Ontario produce. In response, a two-column long, front-page article appeared in the Vernon News, praising BC fruit and rebuffing the outspoken commentator. The colourful language included one memorable metaphor, where the passionate statements of a local grower were compared to “some of the Okanagan fruit, hurling at the devoted head of the indiscreet Mr. Boulter.” Similar gripes were displayed against Calgary spokesmen and innocent people remarking about fruit pests.

In the end, perhaps these moments of heated argumentation are to be excused; a reputation, if well-earned, deserves a strong defence. However, as we enjoy the beaches and fruit stands, recall that tempers can boil just as easily as delicious produce under the summer sun.

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!

Rebeka Beganova, Collections Intern

 

 

For the months of June and July, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!

A black and white image of a steam engine with "129" on the front and several men standing on the train or beside it on the rails.
Shuswap & Okanagan Railway construction crew photographed at Mara Lake ca. 1891.

From 1890 to 1892, the construction of the Shuswap & Okanagan (S&O) railway stirred excitement throughout Vernon. It was a time of bright possibilities, of newfound connections – and of gathering stories. Incoming technology manifested in people’s minds as both a benevolent friend and an unpredictable beast, and it occasionally inspired the creation of mystical local tales. Around dinner tables and across schoolyards, the train and its tracks became the domain of eerie ghosts and spectral monsters.

Guiding Spirit

In June of 1891, the Vernon News featured a report of railroad worker JR Beesling’s encounter with an unknown, life-saving entity while on the job. During one stormy night, he described, he was riding the train and happened to spot “a strange, weird-looking blue light” floating ahead on the tracks. Suddenly possessed by an inexplicable urge to stop the train, he rang the bell and the vehicle came to a screeching halt.

The engineer and the brakeman accompanied him on an investigation of the area, but they found nothing, not even a trace, indicating anything (or anyone) had come and gone. Upon continuing down the tracks, however, they came upon a bridge that was almost completely washed away by the rising water levels below. It seemed the train and its occupants had barely avoided a catastrophic accident. No matter how much Beesling swore they had just encountered a “Divine Providence,” he lamented that no one would believe him.

Swan Lake Demon

A few pages later in that same newspaper, an unnamed author detailed the “Legend of Swan Lake.” Although already established as a local tale, this new rendition included details clearly echoing themes of the locomotive. The story went that, long ago, a stockman and his horse were lumbering homeward along the shore of Swan Lake. Much like in Beesing’s report, a sinister storm was brewing against the dark sky. Just as lightning flashed, a blood-curdling cry split the night. The horse immediately reared up and scampered away to safety, but the man – not too tired to bravely investigate the noise – cautiously approached the rushes. A terrifying creature swam into view.

It was seemingly too horrifying to warrant a detailed description, but the author of the article wrote that “Nature seemed evidently to have created it in an idle moment, in order to show how she could diverge from her ordinary course.” There was just one clear detail: the eyes (however numerous) were a frightening, fiery red, and the nostrils (equally abundant) spewed a noxious smoke. The stockman stood paralyzed with fear until he fainted, overwhelmed by the fumes. When he woke, the sky was innocently shining and his horse calmly grazing nearby. The author reported a popular theory that the monster, with its burning stare and billowing breath, was symbolic of a railway engine.

The S&O railway evoked all manner of activity, from labour to leisurely travel. The storytelling it inspired is similarly meaningful – the fear and awe that new technology can inspire remains, after all, familiar to us today.

Do you enjoy local ghost stories? Check out this other blog post

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!

Rebeka Beganova, Collections Intern

 

 

For the months of June and July, we are thrilled to present a series of blog posts by Collections Intern Rebeka Beganova. Rebeka (she/her) is a post-secondary student with a passion for research, literature, and history. Having completed an Associate of Arts Degree at Okanagan College, she is glad to be joining the MAV team during her last summer in Vernon before heading off to UBC Vancouver. There is no better way to say goodbye to her hometown than to explore its local history!

Vernon Jubilee Hospital staff photographed in 1915. Dr. Duncan sits on the far right of the middle row. Beside him is Dr. Arbuckle, who often filled his shoes when Dr. Duncan was out of town.

George Edward Duncan

Dr. George Edward Duncan (1870-1947) was one of Vernon’s earliest City Medical Health officers. Originally from Dublin, Ireland, he practiced medicine all throughout BC. He also served overseas in WWI, as part of the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps. Looking down the archive’s long list of ‘Early Doctors, Vernon & Area,’ Dr. Duncan’s profile does not jump out as particularly monumental. However, if you chanced upon the collection of newspaper articles mentioning his name, you might be struck by the curious assortment of local events that Dr. Duncan had his sterilized hands in. In fact, his portfolio reads bizarrely like a series of superhero comics, where the titular character – complete with a pleasingly alliterate moniker – emerges inexplicably onto scenes of local trouble. We give you, Dr. Duncan of Vernon.

The Tragic Death of sir Edmund Lacon

This legitimate title from a 1911 newspaper could grace the front cover of Dr. Duncan’s first mystery novel. Sir Lacon met his end in the first fatal automobile accident ever reported in the Okanagan. On September 28, 1911, on Mission Road, an overturned car was discovered with seemingly no body nearby. The article detailing the resulting series of events is written like a proper detective story, littered with phrases such as “last seen here about 6:30” and “thought he heard something like a groan.”

Dr. Duncan appeared in both the action-packed inciting incident and the ensuing inquest. At the initial discovery of the toppled automobile, he was fetched from the drug store and materialized with (of all the quintessential ghost story props) a lantern to light the way. It was he who found the injured Sir Lacon by the roadside and witnessed the man’s death as he carried him to the car. During the inquest, Dr. Duncan’s hard-hitting evidence was reportedly the touchstone of truth that overrode other accounts. Fittingly enough, the conclusion to the article photocopy is obscured by a mystifying dark stain.

 

The CASE of the miserable milk

Dr. Duncan next crops up in a gripping local storyline centering on milk: specifically, its insufficient quality and abundance. In November of 1911, the Marvelous MD published a report analyzing the ingredients in milk from various suppliers. By revealing less-than-ideal percentages of butter fat and water, he proved instrumental in the creation of a by-law ensuring quality milk for every Vernon household. Some subpar suppliers were consequently cut off, but even after complaints were voiced about declining delivery rates, one Board of Health representative said he would rather never taste another drop “than drink the stuff they had before the by-law was passed.” Dr. Duncan’s analytical mind seemed just as valiant to citizens as his court room wits.

Vernon held a certain appreciation for its understated hero. The sentiment is evident through other subplots, such as public debates for his pay rise and motions to send him to the prodigious Canadian Public Health Congress. Even when Dr. Duncan relocated to Vancouver, the papers sent him off with enough good cheer to constitute a happy ending.

 

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts!

Rebeka Beganova, Collections Intern

 

 

 

A black-and-white photo of a group of men. Four are standing in the back and five are seated in the front.
A group photo of some of the Okanagan’s “founding fathers” in 1890. Moses Lumby is located in the back row, second from left. Also pictured are (back, left to right) Cornelius O’Keefe, Luc Girouard, James Charles Crozier and (front, left to right) Edward Tronson, Bernard Lequime, Frederick Brent, Isadore Boucherie and Thomas Ellis.

A Lasting Legacy

You may never have heard of him, but in spite of his humble presence in talks of Vernon’s non-Indigenous pioneers, Moses Lumby left an impact on the valley that can still be seen today.

Moses Lumby was born in Nottinghamshire, England, to Ann and Frederick Lumby on Dec. 30, 1840. He came to Canada around 1861 or 1862, attracted to the area, like many others, by reports of gold being discovered. He first went up the Stikine River with a group of prospectors, but did not make the fortune for which he had been hoping.

A black-and-white photo of a man standing  in a room. He has an ornate cane and a hand in one hand. He is wearing a suit and pocket watch.
Formal portrait of Moses Lumby, circa 1890. GVMA #019.

Agriculture and transportation

By 1869, Lumby and some friends were operating a ranch in the Spallumcheen Valley, the Traditional and Ancestral Territories of the Syilx and Secwepemc Peoples. He had been drawn to the area by an old acquaintance of his, A.L. Fortune, who was the region’s first non-Indigenous settler. The ranch thrived, and in one particular year, Lumby reportedly sold 90 tons of fall wheat, 250 tons of spring wheat, and 20 tons of oats to a single company, Columbia Mills.

By the 1880s, the settler-colonial population of the Spallumcheen Valley had grown significantly, and it was time for an update in transportation. Lumby played an instrumental role in the formation of the Shuswap & Okanagan Railway Co., and spent years petitioning the provincial government to extend a railway line into the Okanagan Valley. Finally, in 1892, a spur line of the C.P.R. was completed between Sicamous and Vernon’s Okanagan Landing.

Politics and Law

In addition to his work in agriculture and transportation, Lumby contributed to local politics and law. In 1877, he was made a Justice of the Peace, and in 1892 became the Government Agent for the district. Later that same year, he chaired the meeting that brought about the incorporation of the City of Vernon.

In September of 1893, Lumby developed a cold that lingered for months. He traveled to Victoria for treatment, where it was discovered that he was suffering from typhoid fever. Sadly, he never recovered and passed away on Oct. 22, at the age of 52.

After his death, the Vernon News wrote that “since he became a resident of the place no man has been more interested in its welfare or has been more unselfish in his efforts to advance its interests.” It was in honour of this legacy that, shortly before his death, in August of 1892, the town of White Valley changed its name to Lumby.

 

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts

This blog post was researched and written by Alice Howitt, museum ambassador. Well done, Alice!

 

 

 

 

A sepia image of two men sitting on top of a very large rock.
An early photo of the erratic, taken circa 1906.

tHAT IS a nice boulder

One particularly large rock has stood as a landmark in the Greater Vernon area for thousands of years. Technically known as an erratic, one theory suggests that it was deposited by a large glacier that was creeping southward and scouring out the Okanagan Valley during the Ice Age.

The boulder is located a few yards north of Highway 6, just before the intersection with Grey Road. It is located on private property, but can be seen from the Highway when safe to do so. Back in 1877, as reported by a Dr. G. M. Dawson, the erratic demanded attention at a whopping 22-feet long. However, by 1982 it had been eroded to only 12 feet in length and nowadays it is even smaller, which makes it easy to miss unless one knows where to look. 

Rapid Erosion

The erratic, made from layers of feldspar and quartz, has a notable crack down one of its sides. Evidence suggests that in the early days, a fir tree had made its way out of the rock, but was struck by lightning in 1916. The damage from this lighting strike caused a large portion of rock to break off and tumble down the hill.

While there are many glacial erratics strewn throughout the Valley, this particular rock has seemed to fascinate Vernonites for generations. In 1926, the first edition of the Okanagan Historical Society (OHS) Report included an article about the boulder. The article’s author, Arthur H. Lang, was concerned that given the erratic’s rapid erosion, it would disappear within the next fifty years.

More than this span of time had passed when the OHS next reported on the erratic in 1982, saying that although it was now 6 feet shorter, it was still withstanding the test of time. This continues to be the case in 2023.

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts

Gwyneth Evans, Head of Archives

 

 

 

 

 

A black and white image of two buildings on the side a dirt road. The structure in the foreground, the Vernon Hotel, is shorter while the Hotel Vernon next to it is three-stories tall.
The original Vernon Hotel next to its Hotel Vernon addition in 1910 (featuring an ad for Fairy Soap on a nearby hitching post).

Vernon’s First Hotel

Don’t worry, you’re not seeing double. There was a point in Vernon’s history when the Vernon Hotel and the Hotel Vernon stood side-by-side on 30th Avenue. The taller Hotel Vernon was an extension of the original Vernon Hotel, which was built way back in 1885.

A black and white image of a large bar room. A dark bar is set against the far wall, and three men in white uniforms are standing behind it. A number of men are standing in front of the bar.
The Vernon Hotel bar room circa 1895. The hotel was known as a “working man’s hotel.”

GVMA #184.

The Vernon Hotel was the first hotel in the city, but even as early as 1889, it had earned somewhat of an infamous reputation; in his book “The Valley of Youth,” Charles Holliday describes it as “a pretty tough sort of place” after witnessing a crowd of men fighting in the hotel’s front yard. It was said, however, to boast the finest watermelon vines in town, so that is something!

A black and white image of the Hotel Vernon, from which large clouds of smoke are billowing out of.
Views of the Hotel Vernon fire in 1950. GVMA #9492 and #5134. 

The Hotel is expanded

In 1908, a large addition to the Vernon Hotel was completed just next door, and the name Hotel Vernon was attached to it. The hotel’s owner at the time was Doctor Hugh Cox. The expansion consisted of a three-story building, and added an additional 44 bedrooms, as well as sitting rooms, a barber shop, a pool room with pool and billiard tables, a bar, and three separate cellars. The old building, meanwhile, included 14 bedrooms, a dining room, and a kitchen. But even with this growth, the hotel was often at capacity, and sometimes in the summer months, staff would have to put out cots on the verandah for surplus guests.

The Vernon Hotel Company and The fire of 1950

In 1913, the Vernon Hotel Company was formed with the object of purchasing the Hotel Vernon. They had plans to remove the old structure, build another addition and increase the hotel’s rate from $1.00 to $2.00 per day. While the old Vernon Hotel structure was demolished in 1927 so that the lumber could be reused, the Vernon Hotel Company did not actually come in to possession of the Hotel Vernon (are you confused yet?) until 1943, when it was sold by the wife of the hotel’s late owner, George H. Dobie.

Unfortunately, the company’s time with the hotel was short-lived, as it was destroyed in a fire in January of 1950 that forced the hotel’s manager, William Petruk, to evacuate his wife and two small children from the second-story balcony. While all the hotel’s guests were able to escape safely with only a few minor injuries, all that remained of the building after the flames were extinguished was a single wall.

 

To explore more of Vernon’s history, check out our other blog posts

Gwyneth Evans, Head of Archives