The Rink

By Billy Georgette

Luther H Holton along with his friends Frederick Lawford and James Nelson stood by the side of an immense shallow pit. It was an unusually long hole in the ground that stretched almost all the way between two parallel streets in the recently burgeoning section of the city now known as Newtown. The city itself, was unique in the fact that it had been built on the side of a mountain in the middle of an island surrounded by a mighty river. One of the earliest settlements in North America, the city was undergoing unprecedented development in the mid 19th century.
Already established as Londons most important colonial center of commerce, the city had just witnessed the construction of a great Iron bridge across the mighty river considered by many to be an eighth wonder of the world. Adding to that was the completion of a lengthly canal that would allow shipping from the citys port into the interior of the continent. Already, a host of industries were establishing themselves along this canal; steel foundries, grain mills, sugar refineries, countless manufacturing companies, water filtration plants and the citys gas works.
The old city had been founded next to its port a few hundred years earlier, but then began expanding east and west of its center and up the sides of its mountain. There are a series of three natural horizontal shelflike terraces climbing their way from the waterfront up the face of the mountain to just below its summit. Basically flat open areas on a slope, it was here on the uppermost terrace now called Newtown, that three men were looking down into a long shallow pit that had just recently been dug up. With its earth in neat piles stacked around it, stones in tidy little mounds like jewels in a very long tiara...lay the pit that would become a rink.

Are you sure about this? asked Holton, in a tone more inquisitive than skeptical. Absolutely replied the two young architects, quickly answering the question with a unified response that seemed almost rehearsed.
But youve just built churches, how will you build a rink?
Same way we build a church but with a rink in it.

This last remark brought a deep warm chuckle from Holton who knew very well how wealthy churchgoers would be falling all over themselves, vying to become investors and charter members of his new rink association.
Holton possessed an acumen into the affairs of men as only a man can have that started at the bottom and raised himself to the very top. One of the most successful men of his era, he had an innovative mind which put pieces together like ships and railroads, banks and property, rinks and churches. His restless and inquisitive nature brought him into realms of genuine pleasure and creativity. Dammit all, This rink shall be my Queen he told himself in the privacy of his thoughts. Often he would think back to the time when he was a poor rural boy growing up in the old port. He was only seven years old when his father passed away, leaving his mother to raise six young children while attempting to run a struggling farm in eastern Ontario. She dreamed of a better life for her children than the harsh reality of an impoverished farm life, and so, sacrificing her love of family and her own emotions, she arranged for her nine year old son to stay with relatives in the old port city.
She could have never possibly imagined what her decision would one day mean... to all of us...to us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499064193

Billy Georgette

Billy Georgette is a Montreal jazz pianist with a taste for historical matters

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Copyright © 2014 by Billy Georgette.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 12/18/2014

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Contents

FIRST PART

SECOND PART

ADDENDUM

I t remains a puzzling mystery as to why so little is known about Luther Holton, given his unique contribution to modern Canada and the game of ice hockey. At the very least, he should have been considered as a ‘Father of Confederation.’ Yet it appears that as a result of oversight, neglect, or perhaps even collusion on the part of unknown persons, his name has been virtually erased from history books. Could it be not only a game, but that a nation was born in the rink he created?

FIRST PART

L uther H Holton along with his friends Frederick Lawford and James Nelson, stood by the side of an immense shallow pit. It was an unusually long hole in the ground that stretched almost all the way between two parallel streets in the recently burgeoning section of the city now known as Newtown. The city itself, was unique in the sense that it had been built on the side of a mountain, in the middle of an island, surrounded by a mighty river. One of the earliest settlements in North America, the city was undergoing unprecedented development by the mid 19th century.

Already established as London’s most important colonial center of commerce, the city had just witnessed the construction of a great Iron bridge across the mighty river considered by many to be an eighth wonder of the world. Adding to that, was the completion of a lengthly canal that would allow shipping from the city’s port into the interior of the continent. Soon, a host of industries were establishing themselves along this canal; steel foundries, grain mills, sugar refineries, countless manufacturing companies, water filtration plants and the city’s gas works.

The old city had been founded next to its original port a few hundred years earlier, but then began expanding east and west of its center and up the sides of its mountain. There are a series of three natural horizontal shelflike terraces climbing their way from the waterfront, up the face of the mountain to just below its summit. Basically flat open areas on a sloping hillside, it was here on the uppermost terrace now called ‘Newtown’, that the three men were looking down into a long shallow pit that had just recently been dug up. With its earth in neat piles stacked around it, stones in tidy little mounds like jewels in a very long tiara… lay the pit that would become a rink.

Are you sure about this? asked Holton, in a tone more inquisitive than skeptical. Absolutely replied the two young architects, quickly answering the question with a unified response that seemed almost rehearsed.

But you’ve just built churches, how will you build a rink?

Same way we build a church but with a rink inside

This last remark brought a deep warm chuckle from Holton who knew very well how wealthy churchgoers would be falling all over themselves, vying to become investors and charter members of his new rink association.

Holton possessed an acumen into the affairs of men as only a man can have that started at the bottom and raised himself to the very top. One of the most successful men of his era, he had an innovative mind which put pieces together like ships and railroads, banks and property, rinks and churches. His restless and inquisitive nature brought him into realms of genuine pleasure and creativity.

Dammit all, ‘This rink shall be my Queen’ he told himself in the privacy of his thoughts.

Often he would think back to the time when he was a poor rural boy growing up in the old port. Only seven years old when his father passed away, it left his mother to raise six young children while attempting to run a struggling farm in eastern Ontario. She dreamed of a better world for her children than the harsh reality of an impoverished farm life, and so, sacrificing her love of family and her own emotional needs, she arranged for her nine year old son to stay with relatives in the old port city.

She could have never imagined what her decision would one day mean to all of us… to us all.

Frederick Lawford stepped down into the pit, his shoes leaving an imprint on the recently excavated earth. Reaching down, he picks up a stone. Rock he exclaimed loudly Rock, stone, gravel, sand, concrete, clay… laid in layers for a rock solid base.

Holton smiled, as he loved hearing how things were done. With a sweep of his arm and his head held high, he looked all around the site as the young architects jumped to attention.

We plan to erect nineteen ornamented iron arches anchored in concrete covering the entire length of the property from Drummond to Stanley street.

Pulling some rolled-up site plans out of a well worn leather tube, and then laying them on the ground, James Nelson pointed to the 19 anchor holes on either side of the property, a total of 38 in all. He then went on to explain that the19 iron spans would enclose the rink itself, while the remaining frontal and rear spaces would provide rooms and services for the members themselves. The interior will be appointed with fine craftsmanship, along with ample space for socializing, resting and refreshments. High overhead, gas lamps with reflective stars will be capable of creating daylight bright reflections guaranteed to charm skaters as they move about on the ice surface down below.

Having emerged from the pit and satisfied that he had gained Holton’s complete attention, Lawford went on to describe the interior in more detail.

We plan to install balconies for spectators including a special raised gallery for an orchestra that can be heard and seen throughout the rink. We promise you that this rink will be the largest, most beautiful rink in the world and that it will provide the visitor with a festive, unique and unforgettable experience.

Music to his ears, as this was exactly what Holton wanted to hear. Aside from a frozen pond over at Guilbeault’s Gardens and a clearance for skating on the river in the old port, only one rink had been built in the city up to this time. But the St. Urban street rink was a far cry from the ideal facility that he had been imagining. While ice skating had been increasing in popularity with each passing winter to the degree that almost everyone was now doing it, what Luther Holton dreamed of was something exclusive, a magnificent palace of pleasure for the affluent leaders of society. In his mind, there was a far more important objective than simply making money with this new rink. What he envisioned was a place where the rich and politically powerful leaders of the city could meet and discuss important issues outside of their usually closed-in environments of boardroom, church and union halls.

If anyone knew the complexities of language, religion, politics, social position and wealth in this fragmented city of 100,000 souls, it was certainly Luther Hamilton Holton.

When he first arrived in the old port city as a boy in 1826, the entire population stood at only 23,000. He watched the city grow as he was growing up, and knew almost all of its myths and secrets. But most importantly, he grew up fluent in french, a rarity among anglo children at that time.

He was soon to develop strong bonds with his french speaking childhood friends, as well as the francophone families living and employed in various enterprises on the waterfront of the old port.

He recalled how he first became a clerk for a shipping company that owned wharves and warehouses. Working on the docks, the activity seemed unbelievably thrilling to him as he watched an endless parade of ships vying for space in the harbor. It amazed him how many barges, small boats and tall masted schooners all managed to squeeze their way into such limited space along wharves, where dozens of merchant’s wagons were being loaded or unloaded with goods of all kinds. It had only been ten years since he had first arrived in the old port, and already it’s population had doubled to about 50,000. At this point, the amount of energy and movement of goods along the waterfront of the old town was staggering. Before long, he knew everyone working in the port from ship chandlers and dockworkers, to bond agents and tax collectors. He knew what he had to do with his life, as he realized that he could never look back.

David Torrance and Luther Holton were close friends who shared complementary differences that challenged each other’s comportment as businessmen. To begin with, David was born in New York with a silver spoon in his mouth, from a family that had longstanding commercial ties to Canada dating back to the fur trade. A highly successful business person, he was currently in line to become president of the bank of the old city. The fact that Luther had to earn everything that he had achieved kept them both on point. They both held each other in the highest respect as beheld their positions as leaders in the affairs of the old port… an old port that was rapidly becoming a city of business and culture. Basically, they were both custodians of the general good, and bore these important responsibilities cheerfully. As well, they both loved life and enjoyed each others company immensely, a relationship that stimulated their highly competitive natures.

However, times were changing once again, and not for the better. The past decade had seen an unprecedented growth of economic prosperity, but now storm clouds were starting to gather as the 1860s arrived. Torrance recalled how back in the heydays of the 1850s, their mutual friend John Redpath along with