Today the name of Captain Robert D. Foote is not well known in Fergus. He died 90 years ago, on Oct. 15, 1923. In his day, though, he was one of the best known mariners in Canada.
Robert Foote was the fifth of a family of nine children – all boys except the eldest two. His parents, Catherine and James Foote, were Scottish Presbyterians. Several years after their marriage in 1838 they migrated to Canada with their two daughters. Soon after their arrival in Canada the family moved to Fergus.
Robert was born in 1850. With his brothers he attended the Fergus schools. In his teens he expressed an interest in becoming a sailor, a move that his mother vehemently opposed. Robert was strong-willed, and at 17 he spent a summer working as a deckhand on the schooner “Mountaineer” on the Great Lakes. During the winters he returned to Fergus, working as a labourer.
Two of Robert’s brothers also decided, much to their mother’s chagrin, to become sailors. In 1883, at the age of 23, Robert took full-time employment with the Northern Navigation Company, a line that operated passenger and freight vessels on the Great Lakes. The firm later became associated with Canada Steamship Lines.
He showed great ability as a sailor, and readily provided himself in positions of increasing responsibility as he rose through the ranks. He was equally popular with his colleagues and with the passengers on the vessels.
Soon he was appointed the captain of the “Atlantic,” one of Northern Navigation’s smaller vessels. Later he commanded four other vessels before taking the helm of the “Hamonic,” for a time the largest of the fleet. By then he was also commodore of the Northern Navigation fleet. He showed his ability in the fall of 1913 when he brought the “Hamonic” safely to port during the worst storm in memory on the Great Lakes.
The following year Capt. Foote took charge of a brand new vessel, the “Noronic,” a 326-foot ship and the largest liner then on the Great Lakes, with five decks, a crew of 120 and a capacity for 700 passengers. It was a showpiece, and frequently sailed on pleasure cruises when not occupied with loads of freight.
In 1918 Commodore Foote retired, and continued to reside in Sarnia, which had been the home base of the “Noronic.” He had retained strong contacts with Fergus his whole career. His wife was a daughter of James McQueen, the long-serving postmaster of Fergus. Though most of his siblings dispersed over Canada and the United States, two brothers remained in Fergus, as did his aging mother.
Catherine Foote, who lived with her son Andrew, became something of a local celebrity in the 1890s, as she aged into her 80s. At that time few people attained such an advanced age, but “Grandma Foote,” as she was known by then, retained her vigour. Her celebrity grew as she aged into her 90s. In 1914, when she reached an even 100 years, her family staged a big birthday celebration at her home with her son Andrew. Commodore Foote attended, and the News Record published a rare photograph of Mrs Foote with the Commodore. It shows him as a robust, broad-shouldered, ruddy-faced man who looks like he would have no trouble defending himself.
Later that year the Fergus Public Utilities Commission prevailed on Grandma Foote to throw the switch that turned on the Ontario Hydro electric supply for Fergus. Unlike many oldtimers, she heartily approved of the new utility. Grandma Foote lived until 1916.
The youngest brother, Andrew, worked for a time for Fergus cattle dealer John Black (who had married his sister) as a cattleman, accompanying shiploads of cattle to Great Britain. Later he became a baker, working in a Fergus establishment for 15 years before opening his own St. Andrew Street shop in 1900. He retired from the ovens in 1935 at the age of 74.
In the late winter of 1923 Commodore Foote and his wife decided to return to his home town. Most of his siblings by then had passed away, but two brothers, Andrew and Charles, who had pursued a career as a butcher, remained in Fergus.
In the spring of 1923 Commodore Foote decided to return to the old home town. He was then in his early 70s, and no doubt wanted to spend his remaining years with the remnants of his family and with old childhood friends. As well, his health was starting to fail. He suffered a mild stroke soon after moving back to Fergus.
In October of 1923 the Commodore took a train to Sarnia to visit with old chums from his Great Lakes days. On his way back he stopped to visit another old friend at Ailsa Craig.
Foote was back in Fergus on October 12. The trip had exhausted him, and he spent the weekend resting. On the following Monday he felt better. He arose early, as was his lifelong habit, and went outside to inspect the yard and garden before breakfast. When his wife called him in a few minutes later there was no answer. She went out to retrieve him, and found him sprawled on the ground where he had fallen, and quite dead.
The funeral two days later attracted a huge crowd, and one particularly strong with those who had known Commodore Foote in his youth. Rev. R.W. Craw conducted the service, and the pallbearers were drawn from the local elite. They included lawyer Henry Wissler of Elora, A.A. Armstrong, J.C. Templin, and James Beattie.The Commodore rests today, with other members of his family, in Belsyde Cemetery. Commodore Foote had no children. His wife survived him by less than two years.
Despite old Catherine Foote’s wishes for her family, careers as sailors seemed to have a irresistible draw for the Foote family. As well as two of the Commodore’s brothers, a brother-in-law and three nephews pursued careers as sailors. None, though, attained the rank and prestige of Robert D. Foote.
Commodore Foote’s last vessel, the “Noronic,” achieved notoriety a quarter century after his passing. In September of 1949 the ship embarked on a week-long cruise around Lake Ontario. Though 26 years old, the vessel was still the pride of the lakes. On the 16th, a Friday night, the “Noronic” tied up at Toronto for the weekend. Many passengers went ashore to enjoy what passed at that time for Toronto nightlife. Other people came aboard to visit friends.
About 2:30am fire broke out on board the ship. Of the crew, only about 15 had not gone ashore. Those who remained decided not to inform the passengers. Within a half hour the vessel was a glowing inferno. About 135 people perished, making this one of the worst maritime disasters in the history of the Great Lakes.
Of the five decks, only one had emergency exits, and there were only two on the dock side. Corridors were paneled in oiled wood. Alarms did not sound until it was too late, and the shipboard fire emergency facilities were a shambles. Not a single shipboard hose was functioning.
Commodore Foote would never have tolerated such poor preparation and lack of training on his vessel. Those 135 people – none of them crew – died needlessly aboard a vessel anchored to a dock. The disaster was a major factor in the end of cruises and passenger traffic on the Great Lakes.