The Resurrectionist of Ainleyville: Body Snatching in 19th Century Brussels

The Resurrectionist of Ainleyville: Body Snatching in 19th Century Brussels

by | Sep 30, 2025 | Blog

Written by Sinead Cox, Curator of Engagement & Dialogue 

Panic in Ainleyville 

“AINLEYVILLE: EXCITING CHASE AFTER A RESURRECTIONIST,” reads an intriguing headline from the May 5, 1864 Huron Signal: “The Miscreant Overhauled and the ‘body’ captured!” After no doubt succeeding in capturing its reader’s full attention, the cheeky tale of the so-called ‘resurrectionist’ (grave robber) unfolds as follows: a group of young men raucously depart an Ainleyville tavern where they had been discussing current politics with whiskey and rye. Passing a burial ground, they spot a suspicious figure carrying a heavy sack, and quickly identify him as a scoundrel and “one of the bloody body snatchers!” The men proceed to pursue and tackle the suspected fiend, and wrestle the sack away from him:  

The bag was opened by excited fingers, and what was the sight that met the eyes stretched wide open to take in a horror? Not a mutilated, outraged human body, but a lot of most harmless looking bran, which the supposed resurrectionist had borrowed from a neighbor.  

The punchline of the piece is that the vindicated ‘resurrectionist’ promised his assailants not to tell anyone about this embarrassing encounter, “but he made no promise against writing.” (i) 

Whether or not this exact sequence of events ever happened, the newspaper’s uncredited account satirizes a perceived preoccupation with “body raising” that afflicted residents of Ainleyville in the spring of 1864: a scare that was not quite as outlandish as the Signal’s mockery may suggest. The story itself acknowledges that before their misadventure, the excitable young men were discussing, “the recent cases of body snatching…very naturally.”  Natural because, only a few months prior, a very real ‘body snatcher’ had admitted to illegally disinterring the remains of a young woman from the Methodist New Connexion Cemetery (today Brussels Cemetery).  

While the Huron Signal could merrily recount the apprehension of a bran resurrectionist, the same paper had gravely (no pun intended) condemned this actual incident as a “hideous offence.” (ii)  The alleged grave robber was 22-year-old Edward Hudson (also spelled Hotson), originally of Markham. (iii) Committed to the Huron Gaol on March 6, 1864, the registry described him as 5 ft 7 inches tall, with blue eyes and dark brown hair. This record mentions only the commonplace crime of “trespass,” but his given profession provides a motive for something more lurid: he was a medical student. 

The Progress of Science vs. the Sanctity of the Grave 

The Grand Jury at Edward Hudson’s eventual trial would be reminded of the seriousness of his offence, and that “it be might well be for the ‘progress of science,’ but that progress was not to be aided by sacrilege.” (iv) Grave-robbing (either by ‘resurrectionists’ for-hire or medical practitioners themselves) was a longstanding practice in medicine because of a seemingly unresolvable paradox: training doctors to save lives and advances in medical science both required human cadavers, but there was no adequate supply of consenting donors to bequeath those bodies. Prevailing social norms and tradition meant that most 19th-century Canadians (v) preferred prompt burial with religious rites. Two decades before Ainleyville’s body snatching scare, the controversial 1843 Anatomy Bill for the United Canadas set out to provide medical schools with legal cadavers. It allocated the remains of those who died “publicly exposed” or in public institutions like gaols or hospitals if they were not claimed by friends or family. (vi)  

Dr. William “Tiger” Dunlop, then Huron’s Member of the Legislative Assembly and himself a medical doctor, argued firmly in favour of the 1843 Bill against those who feared it would deny a ‘decent’ burial to vulnerable groups like new immigrants. He acknowledged that “there is a prejudice all over the world, a strong prejudice in favour of the sanctity of the grave…but he would not have it obstruct the acquisition of anatomical knowledge, for without it even a physician may do more harm than good.” During debates, he also raised the spectre of the notorious Burke & Hare case in Scotland, wherein the perpetrators had resorted to murder to supply valuable corpses. Dunlop viewed the matter pragmatically, arguing that since medical students would always need cadavers to learn, the graves of the poor would be pilfered regardless of any law. He owned that he himself had participated in grave-robbing excursions at least 70 times in the United Kingdom:  

A dissecting room was a dirty sight to a stranger, more so because [it] was not under legal protection. The work has to be done by stealth, in a hurry, and by night. [Dr. Dunlop] had carried bodies in baskets and [re]buried them in a ploughed field to escape detection. But place these [medical] schools under law, and these things will cease.  

Dr. Dunlop proclaimed he would not object to his own corpse being dissected after death (but any visitor to his tomb at Gairbraid north of Goderich will know this did not happen). (vii) 

The passing of the 1843 bill provided medical schools with cadavers in a manner that was conveniently out-of-sight and out-of-mind for those not facing extreme poverty, homelessness or institutionalization. Illegal exhumations persisted in the coming decades, however, confronting wider Canadian society with the fact that the essential paradox of societal needs versus norms had never actually been resolved.   

Men Pretending to be Doctors   

A new and developing settler community, Ainleyville, was still a relatively remote outpost in the 1860s, situated on the border of Morris and Grey Townships. Part of the amalgamated municipality of Huron East today, the village was not officially renamed Brussels until 1872 to align with its train station. A rural community located a great distance from any medical college would seem an unlikely place to encounter a black market for cadavers. When a grisly “trail of blood” leading from a Thornhill churchyard revealed the emptied grave of a man killed in a farm accident in 1861 for example, the York Herald confidently predicted that the culprits would be found in nearby Toronto. (viii) Referring to the 1864 case in Huron County, the Signal lamented that stealing bodies from their graves, “has been too much in vogue in large cities, but is now first heard of here.” (ix) 

Although there was no anatomy school in Huron County, the northeast part of the county had several medical men practicing at the time. Ainleyville’s Dr. Isaac J. Hawks was initially co-accused alongside Edward Hudson for the crime of “disinterring a dead body” in March, 1864, although he was not ultimately jailed. According to newspaper accounts, Hudson lived with Hawks at the time of the crime and worked in his drug store. (x) Remembered as Brussels’ first doctor, Dr. Hawks was also an enterprising businessman. In addition to his services as a physician and surgeon, the County employed him as coroner in the townships of Grey and Morris during the early 1860s, and he owned a general store in Bodmin. (xi) Both Edward Hudson “medical student” and Dr. Isaac J. Hawks, M.D. appear in the 1863/1864 County of Huron gazetteer as professionals in Ainleyville, implying that Hawks provided medical services with a license, and Hudson without. (xii)  

A so-called ‘indignation meeting’ at Ainleyville two years earlier had publicly exposed, though, that the credentials of many rural physicians with that reassuring “Dr.” prefix fell short of a completed university degree or medical license. Angry citizens had convened in 1862 after Dr.  A. Lenders had used his powers as coroner to delay a Morrisdale man’s funeral and burial. (xiii) Lenders insisted on holding an inquest, despite colleagues Dr. Hawks and Dr. Caw’s preceding assessment that it was a straightforward death from natural causes. The assembled residents suspected that Dr. Lenders had callously offended “the feelings of the bereaved” for a petty rivalry. The secretary for the meeting referred to Lenders as a “medical student” and concluded:   

The would be Dr. (Lenders) raised the whole excitement in the community because he wished to vent his spleen on the other two medical gentlemen, who unfortunately have no license, and the inconsistency of the thing is, he is said to have none himself…Men pretending to be Doctors have carried the thing too far in this part. We are daily trampled on by charlatans. There is a great need for reform…But we want no more quacks. (xiv)  

With the medical education of so many practitioners allegedly incomplete, it is not difficult to imagine that informal lessons in anatomy or surgery were taking place in Morris and Grey Townships, requiring the illicit purchase of cadavers.  The questionable legality of medical practice generally around Ainleyville in the 1860s certainly set the scene for the graverobbing scandal to come.   

The Queen Vs. Edward Hudson 

On the morning of March 3, 1864,  the body of Elizabeth Hislop Broadfoot was found to have been “partially exhumed.” (xv) It is unlikely there was any actual grave to rob dug in the frozen grounds of the New Connexion cemetery south of Ainleyville in early March. Cold weather could actually expedite a body snatcher’s work by better preserving remains and necessitating that they be stored in an above-ground mortuary until the spring thaw. Although the available details are few, reference to a partial exhumation suggests that some part of the remains or their coverings were discovered missing: perhaps either because of tampering onsite, or the body had been hastily re-interred after dissection.  

Elizabeth had died days before on Feb. 29—1864 being a leap year. Born in Scotland only 25 years earlier, she had emigrated with her family as a child and settled in Grey Township. She lived in a log home about two miles north of Walton with her father, John Hislop, before marrying “respectable” Morris farmer Robert Broadfoot in December, 1862. (xvi)  The same month as her tragically short life ended, she had given birth to her only son, John H. Broadfoot.  

Maternal mortality was not uncommon in the 19th century, and post-partum complications were very likely responsible for Elizabeth’s demise. During the period many devastating diseases also claimed the lives of young people in Huron County. Diphtheria, scarlet fever, typhoid and meningitis, among other outbreaks, could claim several members of the same family in a manner of days or even hours, necessitating hasty burials.  Perhaps any knowledge that Elizabeth had passed away from a post-partum infection or blood loss, rather than contagion, could have also factored into a grave robber’s choice.  

Whatever the circumstances of the young woman’s death, the illegal disinterment of her body would have shocked the community, the grieving Hislop and Broadfoot families most of all.  Elizabeth’s widower stood before the Justice of the Peace to accuse Dr. I. J. Hawks and Edward Hudson on March 5. Hawks was discharged when this local court failed to find sufficient evidence for the doctor’s involvement in the crime. The young medical student, however, was committed to the gaol at Goderich to await his trial at the higher Quarter Sessions court on March 10 and 11.  

Contemporary community gossip in the vicinity of Ainleyville was no doubt consumed by this case. Most locals would have been connected to a victim or alleged perpetrator, as indicated by the more than dozen potential witnesses listed on court documents. Names included not only bereaved husband Robert Broadfoot and his father-in-law John Hislop, but multiple local doctors including Dr. D. B. McCool, Dr. Hawks and Dr. Lenders, and prominent citizens including merchant N. W. Livingston and a son of the village’s namesake Ainley family. (xvii) According to The Mitchell Advocate, a local tailor and a clerk in Livingston’s store were widely known to have assisted Hudson with the crime, but the 22-year-old medical student remained the only one facing legal consequences. (xviii)   

Hudson faced two separate indictments: one charge for the larceny of Elizabeth’s shroud and coffin, and another for disinterring a body. The Grand Jury at Goderich determined that there was no proof of larceny, and returned “no true bill” against the defendant. For the charge of body raising, Edward Hudson changed his plea to guilty and the jury did return a true bill. Whether he admitted guilt out of remorse or pragmatism, he was now a confessed and convicted resurrectionist.  The resulting sentence was “to be imprisoned for one month in the common Gaol and pay a fine of ten pounds, and remain in Gaol until the same be paid.” (xix) This penalty Hudson must have paid in full, as he walked free on April 13.  

My Life with You did not Long Last 

Ainleyville’s  lingering fear of graverobbing seems to have escalated to something of a brief moral panic, as derided in the Huron Signal’s story about its citizens rescuing a snatched bag of bran. This hypervigilance was not gothic Victorian imaginations run amok, but precipitated by true events that had no doubt sincerely frightened people. The consensus of public opinion was that Hudson had not acted alone, and it is unlikely that he could have moved and dissected a body without help.  His shocking arrest would have prodded villagers to contemplate if more undetected disinterments had already taken place, and whether they were still in the company of those responsible. The scandal would have also further broken trust with the region’s dubious ‘doctors,’ if not professional medicine in general.  

More than a decade later, Brucefield would similarly face “considerable excitement” when the bones of a long-buried man were reported missing from Tuckersmith’s Friarton Brae cemetery in May,1878. (xx) This panic was short-lived. The man’s widow corrected the spread of false information in a correction to Clinton’s New Era newspaper months later: “the grave was not robbed, but had been disturbed by a horse tramping over it.” (xxi)   

After serving his time in gaol, Edward Hudson soon escaped ignominy in Canada West for the United States. Amidst the American Civil War, he enlisted in the U.S. Army at Detroit in September, 1864. Although his erstwhile colleague Dr. Isaac J. Hawks avoided criminal charges,  the accusations reportedly damaged the doctor’s reputation: “the prevailing opinion of the country is, that he was quite cognizant of the whole affair.” (xxii) Dr. Hawks was the most generous financial donor to the Ainleyville New Connexion Methodist church in 1865, but he seemingly disappeared from local prominence after the mid 1860s. (xxiii) After years of already working as physician and surgeon for the rural residents of Huron County, he finally acquired a license to practice medicine on Dec. 20, 1864. (xxiv)  

Widower Robert Broadfoot remarried and moved to western Canada and ultimately Kansas. John Hislop continued to occupy the family farm between Walton and Brussels until his own death in 1881, survived by several of his other children.  

Although there is little detail known about the short life of Elizabeth Broadfoot, her gravestone still stands in the Brussels Cemetery today as an enduring monument to how much her loved ones cared for her and deeply missed her when she died in the winter of 1864. Her son would sadly never have the chance to know his mother, but the inscription on Elizabeth’s stone includes a poem that made her love for him immortal: “Mourn not for me my life is past/my life with you not long did last/But mercy show and pity take/and love my infant for my sake.”  

Graverobbing as Gothic Tale 

Sensationalism, tragedy and even humour all co-exist in the history of grave robbing. In 1843, Tiger Dunlop garnered laughter on the floor of the Legislative Assembly when he joked about a false accusation of body snatching received in his Glasgow youth: the doctor was unable to disclose his alibi because he had actually been disinterring a corpse at a different churchyard. (xxv)  From the opposite side of the matter two decades later, Elizabeth Broadfoot’s family were rightfully horrified to discover that her body had been illicitly exhumed while they mourned.  Public reactions to the crime hint at broader societal discomforts. Laws regarding cadavers required that the most disadvantaged members of Canadian society provide their remains for the benefit of all: an uneasy peace for science versus the sacrosanct. Widely held concepts of “decent” burial discouraged willing donations of bodies.  Taboos therefore led to secretive, illegal—and consequently intriguingly lurid—practices. Suspicion of doctors as body snatchers fostered distrust against imperfect, evolving medicine as practiced by imperfect, questionably credentialed people. It is no wonder that the citizens of Ainleyville in 1864 were frightened and appalled, but perhaps also equal parts morbidly fascinated by the news of a resurrectionist in their midst.  

Reflecting on Canada’s grave-robbing past, Professor Royce McGillivray notes that contemporary accounts of these crimes served as horror stories that appealed to Victorian readers’ righteous moral outrage, but also simultaneously served as ghoulish entertainment. He argues that graverobbing would thus be remembered with a thrill in the next generation, “just as people delight in Gothic novels and vampire movies.” (xxvi) Both outrage and sensationalism can be recognized in local newspapers’ coverage of the Hudson case. And both impulses were skewered by the Huron Signal’s mocking tale about a bag of resurrected cereal, demonstrating a culture self-aware of its own obsessions, its “eyes stretched wide open to take in a horror.” In digging up this incident from 1864 (pun intended), I don’t claim any modern superiority in my motivations as a reader or storyteller, but a macabre lens on the past does not have to strip these tales of their humanity or their pathos. A bit of ghoulish fascination can be a light that guides us through the darker corners of history, and to better understand something of our attitudes and fixations surrounding death and dying today.

 

Further Reading
Sources
  • i“Ainleyville: Exciting Chase after a Resurrectionist,” The Huron Signal, 1864-05-05. Pg 2. Accessed via Huron County’s Digital newspapers.
  • ii The Huron Signal, 1864-03-10, pg 2.
  • iii He appears in the transcribed gaol records as “George.” All court and newspaper accounts refer to him as Edward. It is possible he gave a false name or this was an error. George coincidentally was his father’s name. It is unlikely (but not impossible) that this was simply a case of going by a second name, as the 1851 census also shows he had a brother named George. Hotson seems to be the more accurate spelling of his surname, but I have used the “Hudson” spelling to be consistent with Huron court records.
  • iv The Huron Signal, 1864-03-10, pg 2.
  • v At this time meaning residents of Canada East and Canada West.
  • vi The Provincial Statutes of Canada, passed in the year 1843,  Kingston: Stewart Derbishire & George Desbarats, 1843. 7 Victoria – Chapter 5 An Act to regulate and facilitate the study of Anatomy, 9th December, 1843.  Accessed via British North America Legislative Database; University of New Brunswick.
  • vii Canada. Parliament. Legislative Assembly. Debates of the Legislative Assembly of United Canada, 1841-1867, Volume 3, pg 464-467.
  • vii York Herald, 1861-12-20, pg 7. Accessed via Richmond Hill Public Library (Our Ontario).
  • ix The Huron Signal, 1864-03-10, pg 2.
  • x “Ainsleyville,” County of Perth Herald (Stratford), 1864-03-23, pg 3. Accessed via Stratford-Perth Archives.
  • xi  A bygone Morris Township village with a modest population of 50 in 1864.
  • xii County of Huron gazetteer and general business directory for 1863-4, Sutherland Bros Publishers & Printers: Ingersoll (Canada West), 1863, pg 107. Accessed via Canadiana. Appears as “Edward Hotson.”
  • xiii His name appears elsewhere as ‘Lander,’ but appears to be the same man working as doctor and coroner in vicinity of Ainleyville. Dr. Hawks’ name appears in records as ‘Hawkes’ also, and is sometime mis-transcribed as “J.J. Hawkes” instead of “I.J.”
  • xiv “Indignation Meeting,” The Semi-Weekly Signal, 1862-09-19, pg 4.
  • xv County of Perth Herald, 1864-03-23, pg 3.
  • xvi Ibid.
  • xvii Indictment: The Queen vs. Edward Hudson, Counties of Huron & Bruce, 1864, Box #49, Municipality Court Records 1864, Huron County Archives.
  • xviii County of Perth Herald, 1864-03-23, pg 3.
  • xix Proceedings of the Quarter Sessions including the Clerk’s transactions for the Huron County Quarter Sessions 1841-1873, Vol 30, pg 153, CA3ONHU3UOU1P76, Box 827, Huron County Archives.
  • xx“Grave Robbing,” Huron Expositor, 1878-05-17, pg 8.
  • xxi “Correction,” The Clinton New Era, 1878-09-05, pg 8.
  • xxii County of Perth Herald, 1864-03-23, pg 3.
  • xxiii Report of the Canadian Wesleyan Methodist New Connexion Missionary Society, auxiliary to the Methodist New Connection Missionary Society in England, Wesleyan New Connection Missionary Society: London, Canada West, 1865. Accessed via Canadiana.
  • xxiv Licenses, Upper and Lower Canada, Canada East and Canada West and Ontario, 1817-1867 – 3947 C-3947, Library and Archives Canada / Bibliothèque et Archives Canada. Accessed via Canadiana.
  • xxv Debates of the Legislative Assembly of United Canada, 1841-1867, Volume 3, pg 464.
  • xxvi Royce McGillivray, “Body Snatching in Ontario,” Canadian Bulletin of Medical History Volume 5, Number 1, 1988, pg 58.

 

 

Double, Double Toil and Trouble: The Tale of Maggie Pollock and the Huron County Witch Trial

Double, Double Toil and Trouble: The Tale of Maggie Pollock and the Huron County Witch Trial

by | Oct 27, 2022 | Blog, Huron Historic Gaol, Investigating Huron County History

In time for Halloween, students Kyra Lewis & Mary Murdoch share the history of witches in North America and Huron County’s own witchcraft case: “the weirdest [case] that has come before the Ontario Courts in many years”.

Today, popular culture often suggests that the legal pursuit of witches was something that began and ended with the infamous Salem Witch Trials in Salem, MA, in the 1690s. However, that was far from the beginning or end of the story. In fact, Huron County had its own witchcraft case as recently as the 1920s: the case of Maggie Pollock of Morris Township.

Background: The History of Witchcraft Law in North America

The history of prosecuting witchcraft as a crime has a long history in North America preceding Miss Pollock’s case. Historic Haudenosaunee society viewed witchcraft as very serious offence. Because witchcraft could endanger anyone in the community, people took accusations of witchcraft very seriously. Practicing witchcraft also went against the core principles of unity and peace found in “The Great Law”. The Great Law refers to the guiding principles of life in the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. The first step was to determine if the person was guilty. If the Council found the accused to be guilty, the punishment was death. If the accused promised to change their ways, they would always be forgiven and spared.

By the time Europeans began settling in North America, widespread panic surrounding witchcraft had decreased in Europe. However, in the 13 American colonies, settlers were still paranoid about the possibility of witches living in their midst. Not Salem, but Windsor, CT, was actually the first place in the US where an execution of a person charged with witchcraft took place. In total, Connecticut accused 46 people of witchcraft between 1647 and 1697. Of the 46 accused, 11 were executed. There were also witchcraft trials in Virginia between 1626 and 1730, but no executions.

Massachusetts’ Salem Witch Trials began in June of 1692. Residents of Salem accused 150 men and women of witchcraft. Over a period of 11 months, the residents of Salem killed 19 people by hanging and tortured one man to death. Of the 20 people killed, six were men. Five more people would die in prison before the end of the trials.

In Canada, pretending to practice witchcraft was illegal until 2018 under section 365 of the Criminal Code of Canada. This section read:

Pretending to practise witchcraft, etc.

365 Every one who fraudulently

  • (a) pretends to exercise or to use any kind of witchcraft, sorcery, enchantment or conjuration,
  • (b) undertakes, for a consideration, to tell fortunes, or
  • (c) pretends from his skill in or knowledge of an occult or crafty science to discover where or in what manner anything that is supposed to have been stolen or lost may be found, is guilty of an offence punishable on summary conviction.

Note that the crime in question was pretending to practice witchcraft. The Criminal Code of Canada did not mention the practice of witchcraft itself. The law was implemented in 1892 and was based off of a previous 1735 British Statute which condemned “fraudulent” claims of occult powers. The statute attempted to remove earlier religious rhetoric prior to the 18th century, which presumed and enforced that witches were indeed a very justifiable and dangerous threat to humanity. Instead, the 1735 Statute suggested that claiming occult powers was inherently fraudulent, thus upholding the notion that witches were not real. Logistically it was intended to limit fraud, and preying on the naive and desperate, but much like earlier witchcraft laws it could be used to prosecute vulnerable or marginalized women.

Although not commonly used in the 20th and 21st centuries, the law against pretending to practice witchcraft remained in effect until 2018.  Maggie Pollock, a Huron County woman, was charged under the law in 1919 in “the weirdest [case] that has come before the Ontario Courts in many years”.

Illustration of a young woman being accused of witchcraft

The Huron Expositor, 1963

Newspaper clipping from WIngham Advance

The Wingham Advance, 1920-04-29

newspaper clipping from Wingham Advance Times

Wingham Advance Times, 1930-09-11

Morris Township’s Gifted Lady

Margaret Pollock, more often referred to as “Maggie” or “Miss Pollock”, was a woman born in Huron County on May 11, 1879.

She was of Irish descent and lived and worked on her brother’s farm as a housekeeper in Morris Township, near Blyth. Maggie claimed to be “possessed with a peculiar occult gift” that she used on several occasions to help neighbors locate lost or stolen items and property. Following a peculiar court case, Maggie’s “gifts” would earn her sudden celebrity not only in Huron County, but across the country.

From a young age, Maggie knew that she had a special gift. At 16, she realized that she had an ability to see and to hear things that others could not. While visiting a friend’s house in Boston, Maggie realized that she had seen the house and an elderly woman who lived there before. Around the turn of the century, Maggie experienced visions of two strange machines. The first Maggie thought was a chariot of angels at first glance, but then she noticed that the machine had wheels. It shocked Maggie when she saw the machine in the sky land right beside her and saw regular people disembark from it. Maggie saw the second strange machine when she was driving down the road and turned around to see a machine that ran like a train without a track behind her. This vision puzzled Maggie. It wasn’t until many years later that Maggie realized that she had seen an airplane and a car many years before the modern version of either was invented. While some might label Maggie’s gift as relating to the occult, Maggie claimed that her abilities were completely natural, without witchcraft or trickery involved. When Maggie’s neighbours came to her for help, Maggie never guaranteed results, but rather promised to do the best that she could to help them. When questioned about the things she saw, Maggie claimed that she had no powers of her own, but that her visions and insights were a God-given gift which she felt compelled to share when they came to her.

Huron County’s Witchcraft Case

On June 30, 1919, Maggie was brought to the Huron County Gaol after she was accused of “Telling Fortunes,” which was illegal under section 365 of the Canadian Criminal Code. In Goderich, a farmer had testified that he had given Maggie 50 cents for a séance. He did this in an attempt to locate oats and grain which someone had stolen from him. It wasn’t revealed in court whether Maggie’s premonition actually resulted in recovering the oats and grain, but she saw a vision of the thief and was able to describe his horse. She appeared before Goderich Judge Henry Dickson, and the court decided that; “she did unlawfully pretend from her skill and knowledge in an occult and crafty science to discover when and in what manner certain goods and chattels, to wit, certain grain and oats, supposed to have been stolen from one, John Lienhardt.”

On Oct. 13, 1920, Maggie’s case was appealed to Osgoode Hall, one of the oldest and most distinguished legal associations in the country, by her counsel, Mr. C. Garrow. Osgoode upheld Judge Dickson’s conviction. According to the contemporary account of the Clinton News Record, “The judge admonished her that the practice must cease and has bound her over in bonds of $200 from herself and from her brother to refrain from pretensions of occult power and from practicing the occult science.” The court gave Maggie permission to offer her opinion about lost items, but not to claim that she had any special powers.

Members of the local community continued to support Maggie during her conviction and appeal, and her supporters were upset with her treatment in the legal system. The Toronto Saturday Night chastised the judges and those involved with the case for, “harrying a poor old woman.” A neighbour, Mrs. Sinclair, also testified at Osgoode Hall to corroborate the effectiveness of Maggie’s “gifts”. She stated that Maggie had successfully helped her to find a lost diamond ring. Maggie had claimed to do this by speaking with Sinclair’s deceased mother, and told Mrs. Sinclair that she had thrown out the ring with some dust. Maggie added that Mrs. Sinclair would find the ring when the snow melted. Despite this advice, Mrs. Sinclair and her husband decided to melt the snow. When this did not work, she sent a letter to Maggie detailing what she had done, and that she had not found the ring. Maggie replied that Mrs. Sinclair needed to be patient. Sure enough, the snow thawed weeks later, and the ring was there.

The Legend of Miss Maggie Pollock 

Considering a continued public fascination with witchcraft and the occult, it is no surprise that Maggie’s legal battle gained widespread recognition in 1920. It was notable to some that an older woman from Huron County could perform such “miracles,” while others were shocked that she could be accused of something as archaic as witchcraft. The Toronto Daily Star questioned the wisdom of the verdict: “There is a fairly widespread belief in the occult. It is growing. Why not cope with this sort of thing more intelligently than by merely putting the ban of the law upon it?” The same article suggested that rather than legal prosecution, a public test to determine the validity of Maggie’s gifts would be the superior solution: her powers could simply be disproved or verified to harmlessly help with more cases of missing valuables.

A large number of supporters did not doubt Maggie’s abilities. She received many visitors and letters from people as far away as Florida, Texas, Missouri, Nebraska, California and Vancouver. Her skills were also allegedly sought-after on the other side of the law. The police asked her to locate missing bodies of drowned persons several times: including a young boy who had drowned in Wingham and a man who fell through ice in New Hamburg. The Seaforth News reported that Maggie was also paid a visit by High Constable A.J. Wharton of London to discuss the escape of two murderers from London Jail in 1927.  

Maggie Pollock passed away in August of 1931, in her 70th year. The Seaforth News said of her, “[She] has honour in her own country, because her neighbours have always had the upmost faith in her and can relate scores of interesting stories.” She was fondly remembered as, “a well-known and highly respected resident of Morris Township.” Despite the verdict of the witchcraft case, Maggie was able to continue to help others with her gifts as she had wanted. Whether those gifts were real is still something up for debate. One thing is certain, Miss Maggie Pollock was one magical woman, one way or another.

Sources Consulted & Links to Learn More!

Forgotten Faces of Huron Remembered

Forgotten Faces of Huron Remembered

by | Jan 25, 2022 | Archives, Exhibits, Image highlights

The Huron County Museum’s temporary exhibit Forgotten: People and Portraits of the County  features unidentified portraits captured by Huron County photographers. In addition to the onsite exhibit, photos are shared in an online exhibit and Facebook group in hopes that some of these ‘Forgotten’ faces will remembered and named. Curator of Engagement & Dialogue Sinead Cox shares highlights of the exhibit’s remembering efforts so far. 

Semi-Weekly Signal, (Goderich) 07-27-1869 pg 2

The Huron County Museum has an incredible collection of photographs in its Archives – especially studio portraits from commercial photographers within Huron County (spanning the county from Senior Studio in Exeter,  Zurbrigg in Wingham, and everywhere in between). Not all of these photographs came with identifying information for their subjects, or even known donors or photographers. The Forgotten exhibit has provided an opportunity to delve deeper into the clues that can be present in everything from associated family trees to fashion styles, photographer’s marks, and photography methods that can provide more context, narrow timelines, or even lead to the re-discovery of names. I am especially grateful for the enthusiastic participation we have already had from photo detectives from the public who have contributed to remembering Huron County’s ‘Forgotten’ faces. Hopefully this is just the beginning of adding value to our collection.

Professional studio photographs were often (and still are!) sent as gifts to family and friends. Local photographers saved negatives to sell reprints at a later date, and these negatives were also sometimes inherited when a studio changed hands. It’s very possible your own family photo collection contains the duplicate of a photo that exists in the possession of an archive or a distant relation somewhere else in the world. Finding matches between the faces in those photos is one way to solve photographic mysteries, and why a shared space to upload and comment on photos, like the Forgotten Facebook group, has the potential to put names to faces even after more than a century has passed since the camera flash!

Black & white image of two children embracing.

2011.0013.020. Photograph

Black & white negative image of two children embracing.

2017.0013.011. Glass negative

During preparation for the exhibit, staff recognized that a photograph and a glass negative from unrelated donations depicted the same image of a pair of children (their nervous expressions at having their photo taken were difficult to miss). The photo and negative came to the museum from different donors, six years apart.  Information provided with the donation of the photograph indicates that these children may be related to the McCarthy and Hussey families of Ashfield Twp and Goderich area; the studio mark for Thos. H. Brophey is also visible on its cardboard mount, dating the image approximately between 1896 and 1904. The matching negative came from a collection related to Edward Norman Lewis, barrister, judge and MP from Goderich. The shared connection between the donations provides one more clue to help identify the unnamed children, and gives the negative meaning and value (through a place, time and potential family connection) it didn’t previously have without the photograph’s added context. You can see both the photograph and the negative on display in the temporary Forgotten exhibit, which is on at the Museum until fall 2022.

 

Photograph of five women circa 1890s. Photomark for Brockenshire, Wingham, at bottom.

2021.0053.006. The “Garniss sisters”: Sarah Ann, Elizabeth, Eliza Maria Ida, Jemima, Mary Lillian. Can you help us identify which sister is which?

Sometimes photographs arrive to the collection with partial identifications or known connections to a certain family, even when individual names are missing.  In those cases, knowledge of family histories can help pinpoint who’s who.  Members of the Facebook group were recently able to name all five Morris Township women identified as only the “Garniss sisters” on the back of a photo from Brockenshire Studio, Wingham.

Sepia photograph of seated woman in hoop skirt. Curtain to the left.

A996.001.095

Patterns tend to emerge with access to larger collections from the same location or time period. Although studio photographers later in the 19th century prided themselves on offering a large selection of backdrops, photos from local studios in the 1860s and 1870s often show a more simple set-up. In posting the ‘Forgotten’ photos online, I noticed that the studio space of Goderich photographer D. Campbell can be recognized by the consistent presence of a striped curtain in the background (and more often than not the same tassel-adorned chair) and a distinctive pattern on the floor, as seen in both the photos above and below. This helped identify additional photographs as Campbell’s work, and therefore place them in Goderich circa 1866-1870 , even when a photographer’s mark or name was absent from they physical photo.

Sepia photograph of two young women in dark dresses, one seated and one standing.

A996.001.071. This photograph is labelled as “the Miss Henrys.” Do you have any information that might reveal their first names?

Crowdsourcing information through the online exhibit and group has allowed fresh pairs of eyes to notice detail previously missed in some of the museum’s photos, even when the evidence was captured by the staff doing the scanning and cataloguing work. In November, the Facebook group spotlighted unidentified soldiers, and one of the members pointed out a photographer’s mark embossed on the bottom right corner of a group photo. Staff were able to look at the original photo to get a clearer look to confirm the studio was identified as “G. West & Sons, Godalming.”  Godalming is a town in Surrey, England near Witley Commons, which hosted many Canadian soldiers during the First and Second World Wars.

2004.0044.005. Photographer: G. West & Sons, Godalming, Surrey, U.K.

A950.1740.001

Advertisement for The Mikado August 27 and 28 with cast list.

The Signal 08-27-1903 pg 8.

Comparing photographs with other readily available local historical resources like Huron’s digitized newspapers can also help provide new insight. Partial identifications on a group photo of young women in theatrical costumes without a location allowed a group member to link it to a 1903 Goderich production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s The Mikado. Further research in the newspapers provided a full list of the names of the participating cast and more information about the production, which toured Huron County.  This information is now attached to the photograph’s catalogue record to benefit future researchers.

Although many historical photos may be ‘Forgotten’, if they are preserved and housed they are not lost. They still retain the potential  for remembering , and to be re-connected to descendants and communities through extant clues and the growing possibilities of digitization and online sharing. For more highlights from the exhibit and tips for identifying mystery subjects photos or caring for your own collections, join is Feb. 9, 2022 for the second webinar in our exhibit series:  Forgotten in the Archives.

If you can help identify a ‘Forgotten’ face, email us at museum@huroncounty.ca!

For more on the Forgotten: People & Portraits of the County exhibit and related coming events:

Disney Connections

Disney Connections

by | Apr 27, 2020 | Blog, Investigating Huron County History

Patti Lamb, museum registrar, outlines Huron County’s connection to the Disney legacy. 

While most of us know the impact that Walt Disney has had on the entertainment world; whether that be through the amusement parks that bear his name or the children’s movies that we all love; few realize that his ancestral roots lie in Huron County. The connections in Huron County to Disney are rooted with his ancestors but modern day connections still exist.

Ancestral Connections

In 1834, Walt’s great grandfather Arundel Elias Disney, wife Maria Swan Disney and 2 year old Kepple Elias Disney; along with older brother Robert Disney and his wife, sold their properties in Ireland, departed from Liverpool, England and immigrated to America landing in New York on October 3, 1834. According to a written biography by Walt’s father there were 3 brothers that immigrated at the same time. The brothers went into business in New York while Elias (as he was most commonly called) made his way to Upper Canada settling in Goderich Township near Holmesville. By 1842, Elias had purchased Lots 38 and 39 on the Maitland Concession, a tract of land comprising of 149 acres. There, along the Maitland River, on Lot 38 he built one of the earliest saw and grist mills in the area. Brother Robert eventually purchased 93 acres on Lots 36 and 37 of the same concession. Elias and Maria had 16 children.

James and Ann (Swanson) Munro were among the first settlers in the Holmesville District and James was the first blacksmith in Holmesville (1834 – 1871). The base for this table is made from a birch stump that he selected from his 36 acre property (Lot 83, Maitland Concession) which he purchased August 15, 1832. The original 5 roots serve as legs. The top is of cherry lumber, sawn from some of the first logs to go through the saw mill owned by Elias Disney (great grandfather of Walt Disney). On the underside is carved the name “Emily” for one of James and Ann’s 12 children.
N7143.001b

Advertisement for the sale of lumber from the Disney Saw Mill from the Huron Signal, March 24, 1848.

On March 18, 1858, Kepple Disney (Walt’s grandfather) married Mary Richardson, whose family were also early Goderich Township settlers near Holmesville. They purchased a farm on Lots 27 and 28 of Morris Township near Bluevale. Kepple and Mary had 11 children of which Elias Charles Disney (Walt’s father) was the oldest, born on February 6, 1859 in Bluevale and baptized in St. Paul’s Church in Clinton. All 11 children would eventually attend Bluevale Public School. Kepple did not really enjoy farming. He liked to travel and became intrigued in the drilling industry so in 1864, while keeping the homestead in Morris Township, he moved his family to Lambton County. He stayed in Lambton for 2 years before arriving in Goderich.

Here, Kepple was employed by Peter MacEwan and worked for him drilling for oil at a well in Saltford, just north of Goderich. Instead of oil, it was salt that was discovered, but that’s another story. In the July 1868 Voter’s List, the Disney’s appear as tenants of a house owned by James Whitely on Lot 275 in St. David’s Ward, Goderich. School records show that in 1868, 8 year old Elias and 6 year old Robert would attend Central Public School in Goderich (now part of the Huron County Museum). It appears the Disney’s left Goderich and moved back to the homestead in Morris Township sometime before 1869.

Postcard of Central School, N3103.

In 1878, Kepple left for California, where gold had been found, taking with him his oldest sons Elias and Robert. They stopped over in Ellis, Kansas and purchased 200 acres. Kepple sent for the rest of his family and his property in Morris Township was sold.

Ellis, Kansas is where Elias met neighbour Flora Call and on January 1, 1888 they were married. Kepple Disney’s family moved to Florida in 1884 and Elias, Flora and son later moved to Chicago. On December 5, 1901, Walter Elias (Walt) Disney was born, the 4th child of 5 for Elias and Flora Disney. After living in Chicago for 17 years, when Walt was 5 the family moved to Maceline, Missouri. They lived there for four years before moving onto Kansas City, Kansas.

At age 18, Walt started work as a commercial artist and from 1920 – 1922 was a cartoonist. He moved to Hollywood and opened a small studio (Walt Disney Studios) in 1923. He married Lillian Bounds on July 25, 1925 who was working for Walt Disney Studios at the time. The Disneys later had two daughters, Diane Marie and Sharon Mae. In 1928, Mickey Mouse, originally named Mortimer, was created.

In June 1947, Walt made a trip to Canada to visit his ancestral past. He stopped in at the Bluevale Post Office to enquire where the Disney homestead was located then drove to the farm that his father had spoken of so fondly. Walt drove on to Holmesville to visit the cemetery where his Disney great uncles and aunts, and his Richardson great grandparents are buried. Walt also visited Central School in Goderich and took some time to draw some cartoons for the students. He stayed the night in Goderich before travelling to Detroit and flying home.

Walt Disney died on December 15, 1966 at age 66 of lung cancer. His wife Lillian died September 16, 1997 at age 98.

Penhale Wagon

Huron County Disney connections also exist near the small village of Bayfield, Huron County. In 1974, as a hobby, Tom Penhale started building custom wagons. By 1983, it was a full time business. Tom’s business relationship with Disney started in December 1982 with the delivery of a set of hand crafted hames to the Walt Disney Ranch Fort Wilderness. In May 1983, he won the honour of building the show wagon that would compete in the 100th Anniversary of the Percheron Congress at the Calgary Stampede that coming June. He was chosen above many other craftsmen from all over North America.

Although a typical custom wagon would take about 3 months to complete, this one needed to be finished in 6 weeks. Official blueprints and a designer were flown in.

Working 16 hour days, with some local help, the wagon was completed on time. An artist came from the Disney World Studios in Florida to finish up. It was painted 4 different shades of blue, trimmed in 22 karat gold, and the lettering in silver spun with cotton.

Tom Penhale was given official recognition as the wagon builder when the Disney World Wagon was declared the World Champion Percheron Hitch during the 1983 Calgary Stampede.

Souvenir plate from the Goderich Township Sesquicentennial 1835 – 1985 featuring Tom Penhale’s Disney World wagon.
2018.0042.001

A Disney Parade

In July 1999, Goderich was the host for the first and only Canadian Hometown Disney Parade featuring Mickey Mouse, friends and characters. There were only 5 cities chosen in North America that year. Doug Fines, who was the President of the Goderich Chamber of Commerce at the time, submitted the winning essay to the contest to host the parade. The essay needed to convey true Mickey community spirit but of course having ancestral roots in Huron County helped as well. The organizers were expecting approximately 50,000 people to line the 2 ½ km route through Goderich. It is estimated that the final number was closer to 100,000.

While the connections between the famed Walt Disney and Huron County are few, their significance is no less meaningful. From ancestral roots to prize winning wagons and parades, it really is “a small world after all”.