A lively couple of days at Beatty Brothers in 1897

Many oldtimers think of Fergus as a one-industry town, totally dominated by the Beatty Brothers firm. In the larger picture, that characterization is true for a relatively short period of about 35 years, from the World War I era until the late 1950s.

The Beatty firm, of course, operated for a much longer period than that, from 1874 until the family sold its con­trolling interest to outside in­ves­tors in the early 1960s. The firm, which in the 20th century was noted for its home appli­an­ces, began modestly as a farm implement manufacturer and repair shop, in rented quarters, and with a modest handful of employees. The brothers, Geo­rge and Matthew Beatty, were Irish Methodists. Mat­thew died early in the history of the firm, after which George took the helm alone.

George may have been a good craftsman, but he was inept as a businessman. The firm struggled through the lat­ter part of the 19th century. Credit rating agencies gave George their lowest ratings, and cautioned that he should be trusted only with very small accounts. In many respects, the Beatty firm was similar to doz­ens of other farm implement makers and repair shops that dotted small town Ontario, strug­gling to remain in busi­ness.

Insolvency overtook Geo­rge in the mid-1890s. He man­aged to get back on his feet after making arrangements with his creditors, and trans­ferring the assets of the firm to his wife. Beatty Brothers, by 1897, was again in business, on a very modest scale.

George’s son, Will, joined the business when George re­sumed production. He was a bright and inventive young man. George set him to work in the foundry department, but with little instruction. He had to learn as he went along, and by getting help from the firm’s employees.

On Feb. 22, 1897 Will Beat­ty was at work as usual in the moulding shop, pouring molten iron for a large casting. He and another man had taken suffi­ci­ent molten iron from the cupola for the job. To stop the flow, Will scooped up a shovel full of foundry sand and tossed it at the spout of the cupola to stop the flow of iron.

The sand was quite damp, and Will did not realize the danger of mixing moisture and molten iron. The moisture in the sand instantly vapourized, and blew back with explosive force and a loud bang. Sand and bits of hot metal scattered in all directions. One piece of iron struck Will in the chest, and a spurt of liquid iron struck his leg and ran down into his boot.

His injuries were extremely painful, but fortunately he suf­fered no serious injury. Em­ployees of the firm assisted him to the family home. His recup­eration was a slow process. He spent more than three weeks in bed, and when he got back on his feet he limped for much longer than that.

Six days later, on Feb. 28, the Beatty plant itself had a close call. It was a mild Sunday afternoon, and at about 3:30pm a group of young men, strolling about with no specific purpose, happened to walk by the plant. They noticed that the roof of the Beatty plant (now the Fer­gus Marketplace) was ablaze.

The group showed wisdom and clear-mindedness that ex­ceeded their chronological years. Three of them raced to the Fergus fire hall to ring the bell and summon the volunteer brigade. The others stayed on the site. A couple of them managed to get on the roof, while the others tossed snow up to them. Due to the mild weath­er, the snow packed readily into large snowballs. Those on the roof did the best they could to contain the flames and extin­guish the blaze.

Meanwhile, things were not going well for the three who attempted to ring the fire bell. When they grabbed the rope to set the bell in motion, it came away in their hands, having rotted through since the last time it was used. There was a second rope attached to the bell’s tongue. When the boys grabbed that line, the bell’s tongue fell out.

Undaunted, they made a third try. There was a ladder on the side of the firehall, and the three adolescents climbed it and scrambled onto the roof and to the bell housing. One of them brought the bell’s tongue in his pocket, and began to pound the bell with it.

The sound of the impro­vised tolling was not quite the same as it normally was, but it had the desired effect. Within a few minutes a group of the vol­unteers had turned out, and quickly got a roaring fire started in the firebox of the eng­ine’s boiler. After an agon­izing wait, a team of horses from the livery stable of Sar­geant’s Hotel arrived on the scene and was quickly hitched to the fire engine.

In a few minutes the engine was beside the river, and the boiler had built sufficient pres­sure to pump water from the river. A quick examination seemed to indicate that the fire had been extinguished by the lads with their snow. But as a precaution, the fireman doused the entire area with water, just in case some embers remained.

It was a very close call for the building. Had the young men taken a different route that day, or had they not been on the scene at that particular time, the flames would have advanced quickly and the building would certainly have been lost, and most of the machinery badly damaged. Given the financial plight of Beatty Brothers in 1897, the firm would not have recovered from the loss of the building.

Will Beatty’s injuries six days earlier might also have spelled the end of the firm. The projectiles of metal and molten iron might have caused more severe injuries or even death. As well, the incident might have led Will to abandon the family firm and take up em­ployment in a less hazardous line of work.

Old George, though, could be domineering. Young Will returned to his duties in the plant when he was well. A year and a half later, he was off to Toronto, graduating from a course in Practical Science in 1901.

Moving from the foundry floor to the office, Will, by then known as W.G. Beatty, took over direction of the firm from his father. In the span of 15 years he built up the business at a dizzying pace. By the World War I era, it was a major Canadian manufacturing con­cern, with a number of branch plants, warehouses across the country, and a healthy export business. By 1920, the firm total­ly dominated the social and economic life of Fergus.

It is fascinating to speculate on what would have happened to the firm, and to Fergus, had either of those two incidents, six days apart in 1897, turned out differently. The history of Fergus, and a sizable portion of Wellington County, would have been entirely different.

W.G. Beatty remained the dominant force in the firm until his death in 1957. His views, considered progressive when he came back from university, did not change to any extent dur­ing his lifetime. Out­spokenly paternalistic in his attitude to employees, and vehemently prohibitionist and Methodist in his social views, he cast a shadow that extended beyond his death.

But that is a story for another time.

 

Stephen Thorning

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