#112 A LABOURER'S LIFE--HOW "EASY" WE HAVE IT

                                                                 THOMAS EPPISON

 Thomas Epppison/Epison was born in 1857 and grew up in St. John’s Ward, Toronto. He was the eldest son of Thomas Epison, a baker, and Jane Jollins.

                                                        The Ward 1910--Toronto Archives

                                                    The Ward--west of Toronto City Hall

The Ward was often the first home for penniless men, women and children fleeing desperate situations elsewhere in the world. It was close to Union Station, the port and Toronto factories. The crowded parcels of land containing homes, shelters and other dwellings were often subdivided by landlords to extract the most money from tenants. As a result, overcrowding became worse as people banded together to cover the cost of the property. In many cases, six or more people would share a room a single, filthy room. The physical environment reflected this poverty and overcrowding. Narrow lanes, muddy streets, and poorly drained lots were lined with ramshackle houses, hastily built shacks, and subdivided dwellings. Yards often doubled as workspaces or held small sheds where families took in laundry or tailoring to supplement meager incomes. Sanitation was poor, with outdoor privies and limited access to clean water, and this contributed to recurring outbreaks of cholera and typhoid. But despite its reputation among middle and upper-class Torontonians as a slum and a place of vice, the Ward was also a neighborhood of resilience and resourcefulness. Street markets, corner shops, and informal economies flourished.

                                                     The Ward & Kensington--Toronto archives

Thomas Epison worked for Conger Coal as a coal driver—heavy, dirty work requiring strength, long hours and a familiarity with city streets. He drove a horse-drawn coal wagon to households, factories and businesses and shovelled or dumped coal into customers’ bins. Coal was the main heating and cooking fuel in 1900.

                                                     Conger coal dock, Toronto, abt 1914

                                      Toronto skyline and smog caused by coal burning abt 1912

                                                    coal delivery--England--1900

 On June 21, 1887, Thomas, aged 26, married 29-year-old Bridget “Gretta” Walsh. She was born in Puslinch Township, Wellington County. Her parents, Simon and Sarah farmed, but she does not appear with them in the 1880 census, so it is possible that she had sought work in Toronto in domestic service or low-paid factory work. A large number of women worked “in service” as maids, cooks, or as nursemaids for middle and upper-class Toronto families. Perhaps Gretta lived in her employer’s home which gave her room and board, but also meant low wages, long hours and minimal privacy. Domestic servants often worked 12 to 14 hour days, with only Sunday afternoons free to attend church or socialize. Many girls felt cut off from family and they could be mistreated or face condescension or suspicion from the mistress. Or they could work in sewing and tailoring shops: wages were meagre, women were often paid piecemeal, hours were long. Some girls found work in cigar factories, laundries or food-processing plants; these were dangerous, poorly-ventilated, often overcrowded.. A few women drifted into precarious or illicit work—street vending, boardinghouse work or sex work. Health risks in The Ward were high—poor diet, exposure to dust, fumes or contagious disease. Women from the Ward were judged harshly by middle-class reformers who viewed their neighbourhood as centres of vice. Women had to carefully guard their reputations, since even a hint of scandal could ruin marriage prospects.

                                                                Toronto factory 1908

It seems likely that Gretta was working in Toronto and there met Thomas. Their relationship was an unusual one in another significant way. Gretta was Roman Catholic and the Epison family was Anglican. In the 1880s, the Catholic Church forbade “mixed marriages” unless a dispensation was granted by a bishop.  In that era, sectarian tensions between the city’s powerful Protestant Orange Order and Catholics would have made a mixed marriage uncommon and socially fraught. Gretta and Thomas must have been a very determined couple, or possibly Gretta was estranged from her family and Thomas offered some stability.

 In 1887, Thomas (and Gretta?) went to the United States, but they returned to Toronto because, sadly, on November 24, 1890, just three and a half years after the marriage, Gretta, aged 34, died in Toronto. Cause of death was “paralysis”, a general term indicating a loss of some functions and applied to stroke victims; but paralysis could also be caused by an accident, polio, meningitis, syphilis, etc.

Thomas found work in Danbury, Connecticut as a coal driver, quite possibly for coal dealer John Linster. On May 1, 1892, Linster’s son, James, aged 36, fell into a coal bin, hit his head and died. The next year, Thomas married James’ widow, Mary Jane “Jennie” Webb. She was a hat trimmer and her son was a hat presser. By 1910, Thomas was working as a steam engineer in a hat factory.

                                                                Danbury women hatters

 In the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries, Danbury, Connecticut, was called the “Hat City of the World.” The work attracted large numbers of immigrants and migrants from other parts of the US and Canada because it offered steady (though somewhat dangerous) employment.  Dozens of factories there produced millions of felt hats each year--a quarter of the nation’s finished hats and an even larger share of unfinished hat bodies shipped elsewhere to be trimmed.

 Felt hats began as “bodies” formed from beaver or rabbit fur. A key step was “carroting” which  separated furs from the skin and roughened the fibers for felting. "Pouncing" is a crucial step where the worker used fine-grit sandpaper to remove rough patches and unwanted fibres from the hat. Hat bodies were then blocked, sized, dried and finished. Women-- trimming, lining, banding-- made up a large finishing workforce.

Mercury nitrate (until banned) was used in the carroting process.  The “Danbury Shakes” were caused by chronic mercury exposure as workers in hot, poorly-ventilated rooms, inhaled mercury vapours. Symptoms of Mad Hatter disease were tremours and neuro-behaviours like irritability, excitability, low self-confidence, depression, shyness, memory loss and personality changes. (By 1934, it was estimated that 80% of American felt makers had mercurial tremours. It wasn’t until World War II that manufacturers voluntarily started to use another process.)

And there were many other dangers. Hat shops had huge vats of boiling water, vats of lye and acid, steam pipes and drying ovens so scalding burns and steam accidents were common. Shaving and finishing hats generated clouds of fine fur dust so with no respirators, men and women developed chronic coughs, bronchitis and tuberculosis-like illness. Blocking, cutting and trimming machines carried high risk of finger and hand injuries. Hatters joked that “a hat cost a finger” reflecting lost digits from presses and cutting wheels.

 By 1910, Thomas was working as an engineer in a hat factory. Unlike many line jobs in hatting (fur-cutting, carroting, pouncing) that exposed workers directly to mercury dust or chemical baths, the engineer’s work was skilled, mechanical and relatively safer, though still hot, noisy and dirty. Engineers were better paid than ordinary hatters since the whole factory depended on them.                      

In the late 19^th century, factories were driven by steam engines. The engineer’s job was to run, monitor and repair the boilers, steam engines and belt drives. That meant stoking coal (maybe a connection that Thomas used to get employment), maintaining water levels, preventing boiler explosions. Hat factories used specialized machines for felting, blocking, pouncing, trimming and finishing; the engineer and assistants would oil, align and repair these machines when belts slipped, gears broke or bearings overheated. Steam plants were dangerous and poor maintenance could lead to boiler explosions, fires or mechanical accidents; the engineer was responsible for inspections, pressure checks and safe operations. Hatting involved chemicals, like mercury nitrate for felting and processes that could be messy and damaging to equipment; engineers often modified or custom-built equipment to improve efficiency or adapt to new production needs. Larger factories would have an engineer in charge with assistants or firemen (the men who shovelled coal and kept the boilers hot); the engineer directed this team and answered to factory management. Given his previous years as a coal driver in Toronto and Danbury, it is most likely that Thomas was a labouring fireman stoking the factory boilers.

This photograph shows the interior of an early 20th-century industrial boiler house. The large row of machines are coal-fired steam boilers. Each boiler has a hopper at the top where coal was fed in, and below are the furnace doors where stokers would shovel coal to keep the fires burning. The men in the image are stoking the boilers, shoveling coal from the floor into the furnace mouths to maintain steam pressure. Key details in the photo: the row of identical, riveted iron boilers lined up side by side, coal hoppers at the top feeding down into the furnaces, pipes, levers, and valves overhead for controlling steam and water flow, workers with shovels, blackened from soot, doing the physically demanding job of keeping the fires fueled. This kind of boiler room would have powered the steam engines that drove machinery in factories (like textile mills, hat factories, or soap works). It’s a classic image of the age of steam and heavy industry, showing both the scale of industrial equipment and the harsh, hot, dirty labor required to keep it running.

                                                    A Day in the Life of Thomas Eppison

The factory bell clanged just after dawn, and Thomas was already at his post, shovel in hand. He heaved coal into the gaping firebox, the blast of heat searing his face and arms. The roar of the flames swallowed every other sound for a moment, until the hiss of steam and the steady thump of pistons rose again. His skin glistened with sweat, his shirt clinging to his back even though the day outside had barely begun. The smell of hot iron, oil, and smoke wrapped around him, settling deep into his clothes.

The engine room was his world: the coal pile, the shovel, the furnace door. Every motion had a rhythm — the scrape of steel on stone, the grunt of lifting, the crash of black rock into fire. Without his labor, no belt upstairs would turn, no press would strike. The hatters depended on his fire as much as on their own hands.

Now and then he climbed the iron staircase into the factory above. The air shifted the instant he left the boiler’s glow, but it was no relief. On the felting floor, vats of scalding water fumed with the sharp sting of mercury nitrate. The smell was a biting mix of wet fur and chemicals, clinging to the damp air. Men bent over their work, their hands raw, their shoulders hunched, some already jerking with tremors. The floorboards squelched underfoot, water seeping into his boots when he crouched to patch a leaking pipe.

In the blocking room, curtains of steam veiled the air as hat bodies were pulled taut over wooden forms. The hiss of the presses and the shouts of foremen drowned the pounding in his ears. The animal smell of wet felt filled his nostrils, the heavy dampness soaking his clothes until he felt he had never been dry.

Upstairs, the finishing rooms rasped with sandpaper drums shaving felt smooth. A gray powder floated everywhere, catching in his throat. It stuck to his damp skin whenever he leaned in to oil a pulley, grit turning sweat into paste. Women in the trimming rooms bent over sewing machines and ribbons, their chatter bright against the drone of belts. Here at least the air carried a faint sweetness — shellac and dye — though beneath it he could still taste coal dust on his tongue.

All of it fed back to him — the soot from his fires, the fumes from the vats, the roar of machines driven by the steam he raised. Every shovelful of coal was a heartbeat of the factory. Without his rhythm, the belts would slacken, the floors would fall silent, and the hatters would be sent home with empty pockets.

At dusk, when the whistle blew and the belts slowed, Thomas stayed behind. He banked the fires carefully, shoveling and raking until the boilers glowed low and safe for the night. Only then did he step out into the cool air of Danbury, lungs aching, skin blackened with soot, hair heavy with smoke. Around him, hatters spilled into the streets, their coats powdered with fur dust. They wore the day’s labor on their backs, but he carried it inside him — coal dust in his lungs, smoke in his clothes, the ghost of the fires that had kept “Hat City” alive.

                                                                                                                                 -scripted by ChatGPT

Jennie, aged 49, died March 1, 1908. Thomas remarried Mary ?, a hat trimmer, in 1909. He died July 8, 1916, aged 59 and is buried in Wooster Cemetery, Danbury.

 

                                                         Wooster Cemetery, Danbury, Conn.

Thomas Epison                                                                                                                                                        b. March 1857 in Toronto, Ont                                                                                                                       m. Bridgetta "Getta" Walsh (1858-1890) on Jun 21, 1887 in Toronto                                                           m. Mary Jane "Jennie" Webb (1858-1908) on Nov 25 1893 in Brewster, NY                                              m. Mary ? (1870-) in 1909                                                                                                                            d. July 8, 1916 in Danbury, Conn                                                                                                         husband of Steve's 1st cousin, 2x removed (Walsh line)

                                                    Mary Jane "Jennie" Webb Linster Epison
                                                            Wooster Cemetery, Danbury, Conn