Last week I wrote a story about the Bascule Bridge in Smiths Falls. Apparently there was another story and Smith’s Falls beloved Heather Currie-Whiting told me another one told to her by her brothers.
They told me the old story that I think lots of people tell in various versions, about how the bridge master’s son had wandered out onto the bridge when he wasn’t looking, but the train was coming. So the man had to make the decision, does he close the bridge and kill his son, or does he let the train crash and kill all the passengers. They told me he killed his son by closing the bridge. There are all sorts of inconsistencies in the story that a six or seven year-old wouldn’t be able to work out and I can STILL see that little boy getting squished in my mind’s eye.
Here is one from the:
Perth Courier, Aug. 21, 1891
Authors Note: When the new swing bridge over the Rideau Locks at Smith’s Falls was initially opened for travel– It’s new name was “Somers’ Bridge.”
It is our painful duty to chronicle the sad and untimely death of a little boy Jobie Hutton who was drowned at the ferry on Friday evening of last week. The bridge had been opened to allow a yacht to pass through and it appears that in the closing of the swing bridge he stepped on and was caught in the railing where the swing bridge joins with the main bridge.
He could not extricate himself and when the swing bridge was slackened up he fell into the water and before help could arrive was drowned. The funeral services were conducted on Sabbath morning in the Presbyterian Church (being a member of the Sabbath School and Mission Band) and was largely attended. The funeral cortege left the house of his uncle shortly after 10:00 and proceeded to the church followed by a large procession of the sorrowing friends. After the services were conducted in the church the children of the Sabbath School joined in the procession before the hearse and proceeded to the graveyard. After a few touching words by Rev. N. Campbell the body was consigned “dust to dust ashes to ashes”.
Full short his journey was; no dust
Of earth his sandals clove
The weary heart that old man must
He bore not to the grave.
He seemed a cherub who had lost his way
And wandered hither, so his stay
With us was short and ‘twas most meet
That he should be no delver in earth’s clod
Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet
To stand before God.
lindaseccaspina 