The Vernon Courthouse has served as a reliable landmark for both residents and newcomers for over a century. This grand building is not, however, the first of its kind in our community — it is the second. In 1892, Vernon’s first courthouse was built at the intersection of Barnard (30th) and Coldstream Avenues, and from the time of its construction all the way to its demolition some eighty years later, it donned several hats and consistently remained a functional center point of our city. In the end, it oversaw the pronounced development of our city into the modern state we recognize today.

Our first courthouse drew rapt attention right from its birth, as it was the first permanent brick provincial building erected in the interior. It stood two storeys tall and measured 54 by 47 feet, and it came into existence thanks to the work of architect A.M. Muir from Victoria and contractor Mark Hyatt (not to mention the labourers themselves). Muir’s plans included such features as government official offices, a judge’s room, and plenty of closets on the first floor, and the court room on the second. The Vernon News reported that “the general appearance of the building, according to the plans, will be neat and substantial.”

View of Vernon’s first courthouse, located on Barnard (30th) and Coldstream Avenues. Exact date of photograph unknown. GVMA #12067.

On August 1, 1892, construction was officially kicked off with a cornerstone-laying ceremony. Rosie Dewdney, daughter of well-known banker Ted Dewdney, performed several celebratory procedures to highlight the momentous event. One such procedure involved placing an envelope underneath the cornerstone which contained the date, the name of the commissioner of lands, names of contractors, and more. Construction was officially underway and the majestic courthouse soon graced Barnard Avenue in all its glory and intimidation.

Alas, the beautiful brick building only served its intended purpose for about twenty years. In 1911, Price Ellison put forth the idea to build a new courthouse elsewhere, an idea that eventually resulted in the landmark we all recognize today. This was not the end of the 1892 building, however. For the next half-century, it housed a school (in the 1920s it was dubbed South Vernon School), a Legion headquarters, and even the headquarters of the Department of Health and Welfare in the 1950s. During this last era, it acquired a ‘dark room’ for viewing X-ray plates and was even scheduled to upgrade to battleship linoleum floors. Despite its apparent versatility, the old courthouse was unfortunately slated for demolition in 1959.

Group gathered outside the old courthouse during the 1950s. At that point, the building served as the Department of Health and Welfare headquarters. GVMA #3731.

For many, the fall of the old building and the reign of its replacement blatantly symbolized the transition from pioneer-era Vernon into its present form. Something — someone — else embodied this passage of time even more pointedly: James ‘Jimmy’ McLaughlin, the Irish Cariboo miner who lived out his final years in a one-room shack located just in front of our current courthouse. McLaughlin came to Canada in the early half of the 1800s and eventually came to witness the dramatic development of the Okanagan from a sleepy hamlet into a bustling city. His dwelling place (and his stubbornness) would have proved an obstacle for the courthouse’s construction were it not for the agreement he struck up with city officials: that upon selling his property to be used in construction, his home would be left in peace just until he passed away.

A curious view of the construction of the second courthouse overlooking James McLaughlin’s weathered home, 1913. GVMA #25407.

His humble and visibly aged home therefore remained standing as the new courthouse, practically oozing modernity, loomed progressively taller behind it. The Vernon News described the curious sight as follows: “Perhaps no more graphic illustration of the growth of the country could have existed than that afforded by the familiar sight of James McLaughlin, spending the evening of his days in his one-roomed, log shack on Eleventh Street that raised its humble head beneath the very shadow of the half-finished courthouse.

When 83-year-old McLaughlin passed away at last, his death, the removal of his home, and the eventual demolition of the old courthouse marked a definite change in the air: one that ushered in a new age and laid to rest old memories of our community.

Rebeka Beganova, Museum Ambassador