Michael and Catherine raised a large hard-working brood

Obstacles in their path were simply a reason to work harder, for both Michael McGrath and Catherine Brennan. It seems that everyone in Castlecomer region was either a farmer or coal miner. The hardships suffered at the hands of landlords and the terrible shortage of food in the famine had forced their families to leave all that they had known. Their families, neighbours in the townlands of Crutt and Moneenroe, near Castlecomer in County Kilkenny remained friends in Canada.

Michael McGrath was a grown man when he emigrated to Canada in 1847. With him was his mother Mary Maher, step-father Hugh Toole and half-siblings Elizabeth and James Toole. Irish emigrants sharing quarters on the same trans-Atlantic journey might have been their neighbours, John and Ellen Brennan and their children Margaret, Catherine, William and James. After the dreadful Atlantic crossing and the perils at Grosse Ile quarantine station, they all eventually arrived in Bytown. John Brennan died either on the ship, at Grosse Ile or soon after settling in Bytown. Michael McGrath found work as a labourer in Aylmer, just across the Ottawa River, and Catherine Brennan became a servant in a Bytown home. 

Michael McGrath, age 34, and 17 year old Catherine Brennan, married in Notre Dame Basilica in Bytown in 1854. Although they’d been acquainted all of Catherine’s life, they did not fall in love until they were settled in Canada. What brought them together in Bytown? We can but speculate that friendship blossomed into love. Michael must have moved to Bytown before their marriage. Their past lives had been difficult but if they’d looked into a crystal ball they’d have seen that they would raise a family that prospered, despite multiple sad losses along the way. Hard work and determination raised them from the grinding poverty that they had grown up with.

Lowertown, where they set up house, was home to most of the Irish population at that time. It was a tough area with few luxuries other than access to local businesses and the farmer’s market. The town was named after Colonel John By who had overseen the building of the Rideau Canal from 1826 to 1832.  Its name changed when the city of Ottawa was incorporated in 1855. That same year, the McGraths welcomed their first child, John, namesake of his maternal grandfather. Canada was not yet a country. 

The rent on their home was very low, less than five dollars a month. The daily life of a housewife, however, was very onerous. Every day Catherine would carry water from a common well, for cooking, cleaning and bathing. There was no land near their house to grow any vegetables so she would shop at the market to feed her family.  The trudge through the rough streets for water or to the market was made much more difficult in Spring when the Rideau River would overflow its banks. What were supposed to be streets, became mud holes. Hitching up her skirt to avoid the worst of the muck, she’d plod along. Some days she would have had to make several trips to the well. This was her lot for many years as home would not have running water in her lifetime. With each pail of water she’d pray that it would be clean and not make her family sick.

In 1857, Queen Victoria named Ottawa as the capital of Canada, but it would still be 10 years before Canada became a country until July 1, 1867. 

The McGrath family grew along with the city and the new country. In the years following John’s birth, more and more sons arrived to fill up the household. Their sports teams were assembled, one player at a time. William who was born in June 1956 was the namesake of his paternal grandfather. With the arrival of third son Michael shortly before Christmas of 1858, and then James in early 1861, Catherine’s workload mounted. In 1863 baby Thomas arrived for a very short stay on earth. He lived but a month and his loss was the first recorded family tragedy. Baptised on the day he was born, his fate was sealed before he’d begun to live. Edward Patrick, our Ned, was born a year later, as the middle child in what would grow to include 11 children. He was baptised at Notre Dame Cathedral about a week after his birth. This was the same church where his parents had married and it was their parish while they lived in Lowertown.

Meanwhile, the senior leaders of the nation-in-waiting were holding meetings first in Quebec and later in Charlottetown to plan the unification of the former British Colonies. 

Joseph Eugene joined the family three days before Ned’s second birthday. The celebration of Confederation on July 1, 1867, coincided roughly with Joe’s first birthday. 

The rough and tumble McGrath boys were a mighty force, on the baseball and lacrosse fields, and as part of a family that held nothing more sacred than their family connection. Where you found one, you found the others. Their Irish heritage was their proudest treasure and no succeeding generation was allowed to forget where they came from.

Finally a girl! The birth of the first daughter, christened Mary Ellen but always called Mary, in December of 1868, was greeted with great jubilation. Now they had a cheerleader for whatever sport the McGrath team was playing at the moment. Three years later Dennis Patrick arrived. Mary Catherine “Kate,” made her appearance in 1874 and the final baby of the family, Francis Joseph, was born in 1877. They certainly had a houseful but never did the entire family live as one unit. As the children arrived over 22 years, Catherine’s oldest sons were gainfully employed by the time Francis arrived. None moved out of the family home before they married. Sadly, by that same time, they had also lost Joe and Dennis in 1873. But the McGraths had looked adversity and death in the face many times and each loss in many ways, fortified them to face the future.

In between the births of Mary and Dennis was a terrible, widespread fire that started near Pakenham and eventually over a few days, fanned by wind, would devastate a large area of what is now the city of Ottawa. Somehow the McGrath home was selected to be a rest stop for firefighters. They were provided with food and drinks from the front porch. Six year old Ned loved every minute, being quite unaware of the danger posed by the rapidly encroaching flames. Perhaps this was the start of his love of crowd attention. The seeds of politics might have been sown right then.

During the first 12 years of their marriage, Michael and Catherine had multiple addresses. In 1861 they were living on Baird St., now the site of the Lester B. Pearson building on Sussex Drive. When Ned was born in 1864 their home was on Nunnery St, now called Bruyere St. It was mere blocks from Baird but a little closer to the centre of town and a little farther from the Rideau River. 

On was a warm summer evening in late July of 1864 the buzz of conversation on every doorstep in the lowertown neighbourhood was a sign that the local telecommunication system on Nunnery St. was working to capacity. It seemed that the whole street was enjoying the spell of great weather, sitting outside chatting for a bit before retiring. Family news traveled fast around there and rumours travelled even faster. Letters from Ireland were shared with all the neighbours, often because few of the locals were able to read. Once someone had heard a story it didn’t take long to get around. The population of the area was almost completely Roman Catholic and either Irish or French.

Their four older boys were finally asleep and Catherine glanced warily at two-week old Ned nestled in her left arm as she nursed him. She and Michael sat and talked over a cup of tea. Catherine couldn’t take her eyes off the sleeping infant, taking careful note that he was breathing easily and had no fever. They had lost baby Thomas at the age that Ned was now, just last year. The latest rumour on the street was that the city was soon going to level their familiar neighbourhood to make way for some grand projects. They had already moved from Baird Street which would soon be levelled. It didn’t sound like the changes were going to be much of an advantage for the McGraths and their neighbours. Being inhabitants of the poorest neighbourhood in Ottawa, they would be hard pressed to find another place to live. They talked about where they might move to and when they should go. 

With a growing sense of urgency, Michael suggested they should move to Uppertown, just beyond the current western city limits, before they were forced to move somewhere they didn’t like. He knew a couple of men who had made the move with their own families and it seemed like a good choice. The land was higher and far from the river that tended to flood every Spring when the ice broke up. Their previous location had once been pretty much swampland so Spring brought plenty of challenges from the mud, even when the Rideau River didn’t overflow its banks.

Michael had been working long hours at as many jobs as he could manage, leaving the responsibility for the boys and their tiny home entirely to Catherine. Having survived the Great Famine in Ireland and the difficult crossing of the Atlantic amidst illness, death and melancholy, they both knew what life could be like when everything you knew had to be left behind, Now they steeled themselves for having to leave familiar surroundings and uproot the lives of their children. Because of Michael's hard work and Catherine’s careful budgeting, they had saved a little money in preparation for a situation such as they now faced.

It was the next year that Michael uprooted the family from their well-known neighbourhood and community of friends and settled his brood in Mount Sherwood, nearer to Booth Street than Bronson. This was a difficult move but the McGraths became pioneers in a community that they would never leave. The street, a rather grand description of the location, had no name and was not within the city limits. A well would be shared in common with their neighbours, but this was no different than what they would leave behind.

Here is an account, written many years later by Ned. He was only a year old when his father moved the family to Uppertown.

There were a few moves as Michael built two homes on Lebreton Street. Some of their moves were temporary as Michael proceeded with building their home at 146 Lebreton Street. Michael always lived with Ned, no matter the address. The family lived for over 10 years at 132 Lebreton St. In 1877 the city sold building lots and Michael acquired one almost next door to #132 and built his family their ‘forever home’. 

The losses of their sons mounted, each one tearing out another piece of her heart. Sadly Catherine passed away in November of 1881. She was only 44 years old. Ned was 17.  The family was still deeply grieving the loss of their beloved mother when Francis became ill and died of diphtheria in January of 1882. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That’s a trite phrase that’s easier to say than to live. By his 21st birthday, Ned knew more than any teenager should ever have had to learn about loss and carrying on. In the family with 13 members, only 9 set foot in the house. Four of the McGrath sons had died before their 8th birthdays. The loss of Catherine left Michael with eight children, aged 4 to 26. Only a few weeks later that number was reduced to seven with the passing of young Francis. His sons were all working and contributed to the household income. Mary and Kate were still in school.

The remaining siblings lived to adulthood, although William was only 30 when he died of kidney disease in 1886, and Michael just 35 when he died just after moving to California in 1893. He had just recovered from typhoid fever when he left Ottawa for California. He died 21 months after arriving to work with his brother John, by then a husband and father of a large family himself, and very successful carpenter.  

Behind every successful man ...

The blushing bride was almost 23 years old, and her nervous groom almost 21 when they tied the knot at St Patrick’s Church on Kent Street. Mary Ann “Minnie” Morgan was the love of Ned's life and although she was two years older, a difference unusual for the time, if was of no consequence to the young couple.

In the modest frame home at 36 Kent Street, owned by carter, James Morgan, there was great excitement. The eldest daughter was getting married today. It was quite warm for late May with the temperature forecast promising 26C by late in the afternoon. There was to be a sprinkling of rain but little accumulation, and the weather did not dampen the spirits of the Morgan family. 

Mary Morgan fussed over her daughter Minnie as 10 year old Catherine tried her best to help. Little Margaret was just two and kept getting in the way so as not to miss whatever it was that had everyone so excited.  Minnie’s teenaged brothers tried to appear disinterested but kept checking on the progress of preparations. They helped their father James to get the horse and cart ready for the ride to St Pat’s, just a few blocks down the street.

From the front door of the simple home, you could almost touch the edge of the escarpment leading down to the Ottawa River. The view across to Hull and upstream to Lebreton Flats brought new surprises every day as the weather changed, as the city grew, as the lumber piles on the Flats gave witness to the building boom. Looking towards Lebreton Flats, Minnie was reminded of her husband-to-be's work in the lumber business as she took her last steps as a single lady, to her wedding carriage, her father's waiting cart.

Dressed in her finest clothes, Mary Ann Morgan, attended by her sister-in-law to be, Mary McGrath, married her handsome prince on the morning of May 26, 1885. It was a Tuesday. Following the ceremony, the two families shared a delicious wedding dinner and tightened the bonds that linked the two Irish Catholic families. 

As was the usual custom, Ned looked after the family by earning a good living and Minnie stayed home to care for the house. Their first baby arrived at home almost a year after the wedding. To them, the infant Mary Agnes Catherine was perfect. Her doting mother cared for little Agnes but despite her best efforts and those of the family doctor, the baby passed away on July 15, 1886, exactly three months after her birth. Diarrhea was the listed cause of death but with today’s knowledge we might speculate that it was the resulting dehydration that claimed her life. It was a tragic start to the family and that little baby was always remembered by the sibling she never knew, but whose name became hers. It would be three years before the next baby was born.

Always a shrinking violet, unlike her gregarious spouse, Minnie quietly and efficiently ran the house and kept her eventual brood of 6 children, all born within 10 years, well in check. By 1899 her child-bearing days were done and she got on with making sure that the three boys and three girls were sent to school, well dressed and shod, and certainly well fed. A wizard with a wood stove, she spent her days in the kitchen. Even the laundry was done there as it was the easiest place to heat the wash water for the large metal tub she used to launder their clothes. Hands never idle, Minnie crafted quilts for the house and taught her daughters to follow in her footsteps. Alas it seems that only Aggie was truly keen on things domestic, but she in turn remained close to her older sister Bea and younger sister Lena, and was always ready to help them.

Minnie’s challenge with cooking was catering for her own diabetes and still preparing what her husband and children enjoyed. Every mouthful had to be considered. As there was no such thing as fast food, and restaurant dining was unknown to the McGraths, Minnie did her best with her diet. Eventually she had to take insulin, adding to the complexity of her care. Despite her best efforts, in the late 1920s her diabetes grew worse and like so many fellow sufferers, she developed gangrene in her right leg. It was amputated just above the knee, and she relied on crutches to get around. By this time she had several grandchildren who delighted in her company and helped her, especially at the cottage. She had grown gracefully into her new title of “Nanny McGrath”.  

Still struggling to turn this into scenes so I decided to go with a simple narrative and try to evoke a few images. This is Ned's "back story" - where he and his family came from and the early events that shaped his life. It is not completely different from the previous post but I have tried to make it a more interesting read.

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The family that grew with Ottawa and Canada

The families that had been neighbours in the townlands of Crutt and Moneenroe, near Castlecomer in County Kilkenny, Ireland, remained in contact in Canada. It seems that everyone in Castlecomer region was either a farmer or coal miner. The hardships suffered at the hands of landlords and the terrible shortage of food in the famine had forced families to leave all that they had known. Michael McGrath was a grown man when emigrated to Canada in 1847. With him was his mother Mary Maher, step-father Hugh Toole and half-siblings Elizabeth and James Toole. The Irish emigrants sharing the journey might have been their neighbours, John and Ellen Brennan and their children Margaret, Catherine, William and James. After the dreadful Atlantic crossing and the perils at Grosse Ile quarantine station, they all eventually arrived in Bytown. Michael McGrath found work as a labourer in Aylmer on the opposite side of the Ottawa River and Catherine Brennan became a servant in a Bytown home. 

Michael McGrath, age 34, and 17 year old Catherine Brennan, married in Notre Dame Basilica in Bytown in 1854. Their families would undoubtedly have been acquainted, but the difference in their ages meant that they did not fall in love until they were settled in Canada. What brought them together in Bytown? We can but speculate that they had been acquainted for years. Michael must have moved to Bytown before their marriage. Their past lives had been difficult but the future would show that they raised a family that prospered despite multiple sad losses along the way. Hard work and determination raised them from the grinding poverty that they had grown up with.

Lowertown, where they set up house, was home to most of the Irish population at that time. It was a tough area with few luxuries other than access to business and the farmer’s market. The town was named after Colonel John By who had overseen the building of the Rideau Canal from 1826 to 1832.  Its name changed when the city of Ottawa was incorporated in 1855. That same year, the McGraths welcomed their first child, John, namesake of his maternal grandfather. Canada was not yet a country. 

Imagine Catherine carrying water from a common well, for cooking, cleaning and bathing. Where would baby John have been while she did this? The trudge through the rough streets to the market was made much more difficult in Spring when the Rideau River would overflow its banks. What were streets became mud holes. 

In 1857, Queen Victoria named Ottawa as the capital of Canada, but it would still be 10 years before Canada became a country until July 1, 1867. 

The McGrath family grew along with the city and the new country. In the years following John’s birth, more and more sons arrived to fill up the household. Their sports teams were assembled, one player at a time. William who was born in June 1956 was the namesake of his paternal grandfather. With the arrival of third son Michael shortly before Christmas of 1858, and then James in early 1861, Catherine’s workload mounted. In 1863 baby Thomas arrived for a very short stay on earth. He lived but two weeks and his loss was the first recorded family tragedy. Edward Patrick, our Ned, was born a year later, as the middle child in what would grow into a large family. He was baptised about a week after his birth.

Meanwhile, the senior leaders of the nation-in-waiting were holding meetings in Charlottetown to plan the unification of the former British Colonies. 

Two years later, Joseph Eugene was born, three days before Ned’s second birthday. The celebration of Confederation on July 1, 1867, coincided roughly with Joe’s first birthday. 

The rough and tumble McGrath boys were a mighty force, on the baseball and lacrosse fields, and as part of a family that held nothing more sacred than their family connection. Where you found one, you found the others. Their Irish heritage was their proudest treasure and no succeeding generation was allowed to forget where they came from.

The birth of their first daughter, christened Mary Ellen but always called Mary, in December of 1868 was greeted with great jubilation. Finally a cheerleader for whatever sports team was playing at the moment. Three years later Dennis Patrick arrived. Mary Catherine “Kate,” made her appearance in 1874 and the final baby of the family, Francis Joseph, was born in 1877. They certainly had a houseful. As the children arrived over 22 years, Catherine’s oldest sons were gainfully employed by the time the last baby arrived. None moved out of the family home before they married. 

During the first 12 years of their marriage, Michael and Catherine had multiple addresses. From a city directory we know that in 1861 they were living on Baird St. When Ned was born in 1864 their home was on Nunnery St, now known as Bruyere St. It was mere blocks from Baird but a little closer to the centre of town and a little farther from the Rideau River. It was in the immediately following years that Michael uprooted the family from their well-known neighbourhood and community of friends and settled his brood in Mount Sherwood, nearer to Booth Street than Bronson. This was a difficult move but the McGraths became pioneers in a community that they would never leave.

There were a few moves as Michael built two homes on Lebreton Street. Some of their moves were temporary as Michael proceeded with building their home at 146 Lebreton Street. Michael always lived with Ned, no matter the address. The family lived for over 10 years at 132 Lebreton St. In 1877 the city sold building lots and Michael acquired one almost next door to #132 and built his family their ‘forever home’. 

The joy of having their own custom-built house was tempered with sadness. Catherine long mourned her terrible losses. Not all of their children would live to share this new home. Baby Thomas had lived only two weeks after his birth in 1863, and they hardly had time to know him. Joe lived only a few months past his seventh birthday, so he too never set foot in their final home. Dennis was only two years old when, as they said at the time “the death angel came for him”. It was 1873. This was their worst year. They had lost Dennis in July and Joe in October. Their loss was immeasurable.  Michael and Catherine warily welcomed baby Kate into the family the following year. She was the only sister that Mary would have. Their youngest child Francis entered the world in the early summer of 1877, also for a short stay.

The losses of their sons mounted, each one tearing out another piece of her heart. Sadly Catherine passed away in November of 1881. She was only 44 years old. Ned was 17.  The family was still deeply grieving the loss of their beloved mother when Francis became ill and died of diptheria in January of 1882. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That’s a trite phrase that’s easier to say than to live. By his 21st birthday, Ned knew more than any teenager should ever have had to learn about loss and carrying on. In the family with 13 members, only 9 set foot in the house.

The other siblings lived to adulthood, although William was only 30 when he died of kidney disease in 1886, and Michael just 35 when he died just after moving to California in 1893. He had just recovered from typhoid fever when he left Ottawa for California. But he was still very weak and he died a short time after arriving to work with his brother John, by then a husband and father and successful carpenter.  

The family that grew along with their city and country

This part of Ned's story is included to introduce his family. They were very important to him and their story is one of triumph and setbacks. I want to re-write this more as a scene than a recounting of the facts but that will take some doing. I have little but the facts to go on and even that info is incomplete.
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Michael McGrath, age 34, and 17 year old Catherine Brennan, married in Notre Dame Basilica in Bytown in 1854. They were both from the Castlecomer area of County Kilkenny in Ireland and had emigrated in 1847, at the height of the Great Famine. Possibly they travelled in a group on the same ship. Their families would undoubtedly have been acquainted, but the difference in their ages meant that they did not strike up a relationship until they were settled in Canada. In the 1851 census Michael was employed as a labourer and was living in Aylmer, across the Ottawa River. Catherine was a servant in Bytown. What brought them together? We can but speculate that they had been acquainted for years. Michael must have moved to Bytown before their marriage. Their past lives had been difficult but the future would show that they raised a family that prospered despite sad losses along the way. Hard work and determination raised them from the poverty that they had grown up with.

Lowertown, where they set up house, was home to most of the Irish population at that time. It was a tough area with few luxuries other than access to business and the farmer’s market. The town was named after Colonel John By who had overseen the building of the Rideau Canal from 1826 to 1832.  Its name changed when the city of Ottawa was incorporated in 1855, the year the McGraths welcomed their first child, John, namesake of his maternal grandfather. Canada was not yet a country. Two years later in 1857, Queen Victoria named Ottawa as the capital of Canada, which of course did not officially become a country until July 1, 1867. 

The McGrath family grew in parallel with the city and the new country. In the succeeding few years, more sons arrived to fill up the household. William who was born in June 1856 was the namesake of his paternal grandfather. With the arrival of third son Michael shortly before Christmas of 1858, and then James in early 1861, Catherine’s workload mounted. In 1863 baby Thomas arrived for a very short stay on earth. He lived a month and his loss broke his parents’ hearts. Edward Patrick, our Ned, was born as the middle child in what would become a large family. He was baptised in July of 1864, a week after his birth. At that same time the senior leaders of the nation held meetings in Charlottetown to plan the unification of the former British Colonies. Two years later, Joseph Eugene was born, three days before Ned’s second birthday. The celebration of Confederation coincided roughly with Joe’s first birthday. 

The birth of their first daughter, christened Mary Ellen but always called Mary, in December of 1868 was greeted with great jubilation. Dennis followed in 1871, Mary Catherine “Kate” made her appearance in 1874 and the baby of the family Francis, was born in 1877. They certainly had a houseful. As the children arrived over 22 years, Catherine’s oldest sons were gainfully employed by the time the last baby arrived. Sadly, several sons died quite young. 

During the first 12 years of their marriage, Michael and Catherine had multiple addresses. From various city directories we know that in 1861 they were living on Baird St. When Ned was born in 1864 their home was on Nunnery St, later named Water Street and now known as Bruyere St. It was mere blocks from Baird but a little closer to the centre of town and a little farther from the Rideau River which flooded every spring. It was in the immediately following years that Michael uprooted the family from their well-known neighbourhood and friends and settled his brood in Mount Sherwood, nearer to Booth Street than Bronson. This was a difficult move but the McGraths had found a community that they would never leave.

There were a few moves and Michael built two homes as reconstructed from city directories and recounted by Ned several decades later, but always in that area. Some of their moves were temporary as Michael proceeded with building their home at 146 Lebreton Street. Michael always lived with Ned, no matter the address. The family lived for over 10 years at 132 Lebreton St. In 1877 the city sold building lots and Michael acquired one almost next door to #132 and built his family their ‘forever home’. 

Sadly Catherine passed away in November of 1881. She was only 44 years old. Ned was 17. Her baby Thomas had been born and lived only two weeks, in 1863. 1873 was a sad year for the family. In July, 2 year old Dennis passed away, followed by Joseph Eugene, 7 and half when he died in November. The family was still deeply grieving the loss of their beloved mother when Francis became ill and died of diptheria in January of 1882. 

The other siblings lived to adulthood, although William was only 30 when he died of kidney disease in 1886, and Michael just 35 when he died just after moving to California in 1893. He was thought to have sufficiently recovered from typhoid fever when he left Ottawa but he died a short time after arriving to work with his brother John.  

The Fay

This post may not follow the previous one in the finished "book" but I needed to write about something that did not include snow today. We're in a snow globe in Ottawa and I wanted to concentrate on summery (not summary) thoughts.
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The Fay

The sound of a champagne bottle smashing, with its bubbly contents splashing his shirt, was what Ned had been awaiting rather impatiently, for weeks now. His largest purchase ever would soon be delivered and the party would be the first of many a great round of celebrations. Just as eagerly, Alex Potvin and John Harris had been expecting word from their good friend and builder of their shared dream. They were partners in a new venture and as the final days ticked down, none of the men could talk of anything else. Their pipe stems were well chewed, even when there was no lit tobacco in the bowls. Edward T. Edwards was part of this dream too and as the builder, his every waking moment was devoted to making this dream come true. Finally the last lick of paint was added to the deck and all was ready. Edward’s ship-building skills had been taxed and the pressure from his friends and partners was keenly felt. It had to be perfect. And so it was, with the launch of the Fay on July 16, 1904 their dreams came true.

The cloudless sky, the warm sunshine on this perfect day of 25C, and the merest hint of a breeze greeted the excited group as they made their way to the dock. The group of family and friends was in high spirits and the buzz of conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughter and rounds of congratulatory handshakes and back slaps. The girls,15 year old Bea, 13 year old Aggie and 10 year old Lena, tried to behave calmly as their mother Minnie had asked, but they fidgeted all the same. Eddie at 12, the eldest son, had to restrain 5 year old Allan who kept jumping up to see over taller heads, and kept an eye on 7 year old Frank who was tossing the baseball he insisted on taking with him everywhere. 

The four partners, dressed in their finest suits, sported grins wider than their moustaches. Soon they would add the title of ‘Captain' to their names. Having drawn the longest straw, Ned launched the magnum of bubbly, smashing it against the bow of the Fay. The clapping and cheering echoed across Dow’s Lake. The steamboat was large enough to accommodate the entire party on the dock on its maiden voyage. Gathering up their long skirts, the ladies stepped aboard. The children, refusing any helping hands, clambered over the side and up onto the roof for the best view. The Fay was built for pleasure and indeed that feeling could almost be felt from the huge grins on all of the passengers and especially the newly minted captains.  

The Fay made many pleasant voyages with the passengers enjoying their rides on the Rideau Canal. Sometimes they would sail between the locks at Black Rapids and Long Island and sometimes they would venture closer to the city, or even farther through the locks past Manotick and even beyond. There were, however, a few trips every year that were not as much fun.

Near the base of the Long Island Locks, at the end of Nicholl’s Island closest to the city, a little tent city would rise every year. The large flat area at the north end of the island was their summer retreat. Posh? Oh no, but everyone had wonderful memories of preceding summers to make them yearn to get the new season underway. Except for sleeping in tents rather than houses, the other amenities were not really that different from what they had in town. The biggest obstacle every year was transferring the tents and much more, from the city to the camp.

Not owning a truck, or even a car, Ned had to find a way to get all of this gear to the summer camp. A boat was the best solution - and they had that with the Fay. Transporting the tents, stoves, beds, oil lamps and other necessities was a huge undertaking. The Fay was 37 feet long and 9 feet wide. The roof served as a kind of balcony for touring on the Rideau Canal and was used for lighter items when pressed into service as a transport barge. The main deck was spacious enough to accommodate the biggest items, even if a second trip was needed.

On its first run each spring, from the boathouse at Dow’s Lake through Hartwell’s and Black Rapids locks, it became a supply ship. Imagine all the tent poles laid out on the floor of the deck, topped with the canvas tents, beds and bedding, every sort of kitchen supply, pails for laundry, and at least once, a piano. From a position on the river bank anywhere along the route, it would have been quite the sight to see the Fay steaming along. Once the camp was established for the year, the Fay returned to being a pleasure boat.

That old boat had a good life for 22 years. For a wooden boat it must have been kept in very good repair. No reports have been found of Ned’s partners actually taking the Fay out without him. All the stories revolve around Ned and his boat. When the end came for the Fay, only his name was mentioned. One can speculate that at some point he bought out his partners.

The Fay was lost in a fire at the Dow’s Lake boathouse late on the night of January 3, 1926. It was later deemed to have been accidental. The boat and its boathouse were completely destroyed. Other nearby boats and boathouses suffered varying amounts of damage. Sadly, Ned was not insured.

It was a sad end to such a wonder era for the campers at Long Island. This article from the Ottawa Journal of January 4, 1926 recounts what happened. The precise age of the Fay is wrong as it was used for longer than 18years.

Work so far

I have been writing and editing and decided to put the paltry sum of all this into one narrative. It won't be all new to anyone who has read previous posts, but here we go. At some point I hope to have the story written in scenes rather than narrations.

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The Quiet Man at the Table

He was in no way threatening and he never spoke, still it was a bit of a surprise whenever she saw him. Margaret walked downstairs to prepare breakfast and wondered if she would be alone or would she find the old man already there, reading his newspaper. Sure enough, there he was, sitting at the dining table, just like every time before. He looked rather ordinary, had wispy white hair, was immaculately groomed in his old-fashioned high-collared shirt and tie, and as usual, paid no attention to his surroundings. Ignoring the man, she went ahead and made herself coffee and toast. By the time she sat down to eat, he was gone.

It was some years later that Margaret’s daughter Teresa visited her cousin Rita to collect the McGrath family bible. There were several old photos pressed between the pages. As Rita removed them and spread them out on the table, Teresa exclaimed “that’s him, that’s the ghost that appears in our dining room” as she pointed to a dapper gentleman. Rita knew who it was. The man in the picture was Ned McGrath, Teresa’s previously unknown great grandfather and Rita’s much-loved and well-remembered grandfather. Teresa had never seen a photo of Ned before that moment. Both of the women were struck by the realization that the news-reading visitor had to have been the ghost of their ancestor who had died more than three decades earlier. 

Was there something that Ned had left unfinished when he passed? Is that why he appeared multiple times, more than three decades after his death, to several members of that one family? Why was he visiting that particular home? 

Would trying to reconstruct his life provide some answers?

Who was this man?

Could he have been more ordinary? A wanted poster describing the man would bring in far too many suspects: average height and build, light brown hair, blue eyes, high forehead, no scars, large handlebar moustache, neither armed nor dangerous. Well, let me tell you this man was anything but ordinary.

His given names were quintessentially Irish: Edward Patrick, but he hated formality and was known to friends and colleagues as Ned and to the family as Daddy McGrath. Sometimes, on formal occasions, he was E.P. McGrath. His parents had been born in County Kilkenny, Ireland. Ned hardly left Ottawa. Still, his family remained steadfastly proud of their Irish heritage through succeeding generations.

When Ned McGrath strode onto the floor at any gathering he seemed to stand much taller than his average height. His impeccable grooming, ramrod straight posture and that fabulous 'stache drew every eye in the room - whether it was a social event or a political assembly. His demeanour commanded attention and respect whenever he was in attendance, notably when he chaired potentially divisive meetings. 

As Alderman for Dalhousie Ward, Ned was well-known and highly regarded within his largely Irish Catholic community of Mount Sherwood. His home on Lebreton Street was at the western end, but had not even been part of the city when the family had moved there. The McGraths were among the pioneer families in this area. Michael’s father had taken the daring step to relocate in the 1860s, when it was not yet divided into streets. The family worked tirelessly with their neighbours to implement progress in the district. Ned's gregarious nature, willingness to help everyone, deep liberal sentiments and devotion to family and community were legendary. 

None of his siblings were comfortable in public, but Ned had such drive and determination to make life better for all, that he drew approval for many of his ideas and proposals. At several city elections over 25 years, Ned received a winning tide of votes for his platform to represent them as their Alderman. The citizens of Dalhousie Ward knew that they would always get a fair shake from this man despite any differences in race, religion, class or background. Second only to his family, his constituents were his top priority. His particular mission was finding employment in Ottawa for all residents looking for work.

His own children and the entire extended McGrath family looked to Ned for advice, and for help with household repairs or construction and especially for his knack of ensuring that everyone had a good time. He was always creating opportunities for fun, often with some sort of sporting competition. Participant or observer, you knew it would be a good day when Ned had done the planning. Life was to be lived and he gave his best shot every time.

Tragedies marred his too-short life almost from the time of his birth. His indomitable Irish spirit carried him through many dark days. In the final years of his life though, the accumulation of those tragedies took a terrible toll on his health.

Early Days in Lowertown

On was a warm summer evening in late July of 1864 the buzz of conversation on every doorstep in the lowertown neighbourhood was a sign that the local telecommunication system on Nunnery St. was working to capacity. It seemed that the whole street was enjoying the spell of great weather, sitting outside chatting for a bit before retiring. Family news traveled fast around Nunnery St. and rumours travelled even faster. Letters from Ireland were shared with all the neighbours, often because few of the locals were able to read. Once someone had heard a story it didn’t take long to get around. The population of the area was almost completely Roman Catholic and either Irish or French.

Their four older boys were finally asleep and Catherine glanced warily at two-week old Ned nestled in her left arm as she nursed him. She and Michael sat and talked over a cup of tea. She couldn’t take her eyes off the sleeping infant, taking careful note that he was breathing easily and had no fever. They had lost baby Thomas at the exact age that Ned was now, just last year. The latest rumour on the street was that the city was soon going to level their familiar neighbourhood to make way for some special projects. They had already moved from Baird Street which would soon be levelled. It didn’t sound like the changes were going to be much of an advantage for the McGraths and their neighbours. Being inhabitants of the poorest neighbourhood in Ottawa, they would be hard pressed to find another place to live. They talked about where they might move to and when they should go. 

With a growing sense of urgency, Michael suggested they should move to Uppertown, just beyond the current western city limits, before they were forced to move somewhere they didn’t like. He knew a couple of men who had made the move with their own families and it seemed like a good place to be. The land was higher and farther from the river that tended to flood every Spring when the ice broke up. Their previous location had once been pretty much swampland so Spring brought plenty of challenges from the mud, even when the Rideau River didn’t overflow its banks.

Michael had been working long hours at as many different jobs as he could manage, leaving the responsibility for the boys and their tiny home entirely to Catherine. Having survived the Great Famine in Ireland and the difficult crossing of the Atlantic amidst illness, death and melancholy, they both knew what life could be like when everything you knew had to be left behind, Now they steeled themselves for having to leave familiar surroundings and uproot the lives of their children. Because of Michael's hard work and Catherine’s careful budgeting, they had saved a little money in preparation for a situation such as they now faced.

Map is of Ottawa circa 1855. Lowertown is the pink area and where the McGraths moved in Uppertown was just left of the blue area in the lower left corner.

Despite the mud on the unpaved roads, they had easy access to businesses and markets - the equivalent I suppose to today’s suburbs and their box stores and malls. By no means did that mean life was easy. But, they could buy meat and other provisions and access clean water sources. The area of Uppertown that Michael was considering would impose additional hardship on Catherine. They would be able to grow some vegetables in the summer perhaps, but finding everything they needed would be onerous. The nearest supply of provisions would be a long walk from home.

Uppertown - growing up with Canada

Canada was not yet a country and Ottawa had a population of about 7,000 when Ned was born. His father Michael was not a pioneer in the city but he would become one in the yet-undeveloped area later known as either Mount Sherwood or Ashburnham Hill. The central business area of the city, arguably the most modern part in every way, lay between Nunnery St and their new place, which wasn’t even a street yet. Making your way through the heart of Ottawa to the west, just past the city line, would be easy only for the first part of the move. The family had to prepare for hardship to come in Ashburnham Hill. They had known little else and were up to the challenge. But at least this home would be larger.

There really was no “town” within about one kilometre of their new location. Access was a challenge - even after they moved. Michael had found a property at what is now the corner of Booth and Willow Streets, a distance of 6 kilometres from Baird Street. The first few kilometres of their relocation were relatively easy with the family’s belongings piled into a borrowed horse-drawn cart. According to an account rendered by Ned many years later, the nearest street to their new home was Somerset  - a good distance from their new front door. Michael had to carry all of their belongings on his back, from that street through what was essentially a cedar swamp. His sons did their best, but were too young to be of much help. Ned posed the biggest challenge as a baby who could not yet walk. By the time they moved in 1865, he was only a year old. Would Catherine have carried him or did they put him into the cart with the final load of their things?

Michael had chosen the neighbourhood well. This area would eventually be a new hive of activity and the hard work and cooperation among the neighbours brought some much needed initiatives. St Patrick’s Church, built for the Irish population in 1855, wasn’t far away and became a centrepiece in their lives. As the population of Ashburnham Hill increased, so did the clearing and building of streets and access became easier. In a few years it was a thriving Irish Catholic neighbourhood where everyone got along pretty well. 

On July 1, 1867 Canada became a country. The centre of festivities was the land around the new parliament buildings, still under construction. Every neighbourhood wanted to join in the celebrations. Ashburnham Hill was the site of one of the largest bonfires around which all of the locals gathered. Imagine the excitement in the crowd. Lively children had to be watched as they sensed only excitement and not danger from the huge bonfire. Catherine would have had a hard time keeping a close eye on her curious 3 year old Ned, who despite not quite understanding why all the the noise and fun was going on, joined in heartily. His older brothers were asked to watch him too, but were more occupied with their own fun. Michael and Catherine looked after one year old Joseph Eugene as they enjoyed the party atmosphere. They had little time for fun with their home-made hockey line-up of six active boys. 

The McGraths moved a few times within the community and stayed at 132 Lebreton Street until 1885 when Ned was 19 and had chosen his trade of carpenter. After a few temporary moves as their forever home was built, the McGraths settled at 146 Lebreton in 1893 and never left.