17 March 2023

Today in the history of Irish Catholic Toronto.

Today is the 165th anniversary of the murder of Matthew Sheedy. He wouldn't die until the next day, but the fatal blow was struck on this day.


I have been doing some research into his murder, not to solve it, for that is impossible, but as a window into the Toronto of the past. There isn't much information about Sheedy himself- his date of birth, marriage, baptism of his two children. On his marriage certificate, his signature and that of his wife look to  be the same handwriting as the priest who married them, so he was almost certainly illiterate, which fits, as it was illegal for Irish Catholics to be educated in Ireland until about 1850. The testimony at the inquest into his death was as confused as could be, and probably deliberately.

Matthew Sheedy was all of twenty-three years old at the time of his death and left behind a wife and an infant son, Paddy and a daughter, whose name I've misplaced. He was in the area of St Lawrence Hall and St James Cathedral (which was mostly rebuilt by this time after its immediate predecessor was destroyed in the 1849 fire which also destroyed much of the old city) that day. This was the very heart of Orange, Protestant Toronto. This was not a place a Catholic would wish to be on most days, but this was not most days. It was St Patrick's Day, and Sheedy was there in a parade with a couple thousand other of his co-religionists and countrymen.

Sheedy and his fellows had gathered around St Lawrence Hall to hear the most famous Irish Canadian of the time and future Father of Confederation Thomas D'Arcy McGee give a speech in honour of the day. The day had already seen some violence: a police officer had been beaten earlier by some of the members of the parade for wearing an Orange ribbon and flower on a day that was dedicated to the Green.

The presence of the Orange on the officer was a signal of one of the problems of that time: The police department- and the fire department as well, though they don't figure in this story- and most of the city council were dominated by the Orange Lodge. Catholics had long been complaining that they could find neither protection nor justice from the authorities in Toronto, but their complaints were ignored, as the Catholics on the whole were regarded as a criminal element. The top magistrate in Toronto at the time wrote that the Irish Catholics were nothing but drunkards and thieves, and a future Mayor of Toronto would describe them as 'traitors all.' The Fireman's Riot and the Clown Riot of 1855 (A story for another time) had shown the general population of Toronto that the Orange Lodge was unwilling and unable to hold itself accountable to the law, and in the aftermath of those two riots the process of police reform had begun, but, on this day, no real change had yet occurred. The current chief constable, Samuel Sherwood, had been involved in a murder in the 1840's, but had used his connections in the Lodge to get off, and then used his connections again to get his position.

The real trouble on this day began shortly after McGee began his speech. An Orangeman who was a carter coming north from St Lawrence Market whipped his horses and attempted to drive through the crowd gathered on the streets to hear McGee. He was turned back by a shower of stones and mud thrown at the horse and cart by the crowd, but the commotion in the streets drew out many nearby shop owners and workers, who, not coincidentally, were also members of the Orange Lodge, and many of them were brandishing weapons. A councilman, tavern owner and strident Orangeman by the name of William Lennox was returning from the butcher shops at the North Market and, hearing of the violence shouted he would not sleep that night until he had waded knee-deep in Papist blood. A riot began, and localized brawls and fights were soon occurring up and down the streets. Lennox was chased into the stable yard of his tavern on Colborne street, where he produced some pistols and began threatening to shoot any papist who dared draw near him. The Deputy Chief took the pistols from him, but the crowd surged at him again, he and his wife took refuge in a nearby wagon. He seized the yoke tree from the wagon and threatened to club any who came close to him. His stablehands, hearing the commotion, rushed into the fray with the tools of their trade on hand. Lennox still took several blows before order was restored.

Sheedy's whereabouts and movements immediately before, during and after his fatal wounding are difficult to trace. Sheedy's wife Joanne would testify (oddly, she was among the very last to testify at the inquest) she and Matthew had been listening to McGee's speech the trouble broke out.  They were standing a little to the West of St. Lawrence Hall, close to St James' Cathedral and away from the fighting when a friend of Matthew's approached and told them Matthew's brother-in-law was in the thick of the fighting down the laneway near Lennox's. According to Joanne, Matthew left to get his brother-in-law away from there.  That was all she knew until some time later when she was told her husband was wounded and lying in the back of Millar's store.  Between those two moments, there is much confusion and contradiction.   The Deputy Chief would testify that he thought Sheedy had protected his back from the crowd while he was taking the pistols from Lennox. Some Orangemen testified they thought they saw Sheedy amongst the rioters, urging them on. His fellow Irish Catholics testified he tried to calm down the rioters and urged them to restore order. It is, therefore difficult to accurately place Sheedy between the time he left his wife, and when he entered the shop of a druggist by the name of Millar, and asked Millar to bind his wounds. Millar found he had been stabbed in the groin, and sent for a doctor. The doctor sent for a carriage, Sheedy was rushed to the hospital. Some witnesses were found, and at least one gave a description and identified the attacker, and an Orangeman identified was taken into custody.

That night, various Irish groups gathered across the city to have a feast in honour of St Patrick. One group of prominent Irish Catholics were dining at the National Hotel, who upon hearing that a group of prominent Irish Protestants were having a similar feast at a nearby hotel sent a token of friendship to the Protestants, and claimed that though they may differ in Creed, an Irish heart still beat within them all. The Catholics invited the Protestants to come and dine with them at the National Hotel. It was a rather rare gesture at the time, but it was well received by the Protestants, among whom was the founder of the Grand Orange Lodge in Canada himself, Ogle R. Gowan. The Protestants sent back a message accepting the token, and in appreciation of the friendship. Several of them, including Gowan, went to deliver the message personally.

The message was never delivered. The leading Protestants found the National Hotel surrounded by a mob of Orangemen. Ever since the riot earlier in the day, word had spread amongst the Orangeman that one of their leaders, Lennox, had been beaten and another one of their number had been arrested. Orangemen started gathering at Lennox's tavern to inquire after his health and their anger grew at the treatment of their fellow members. Around 10 or 11 o'clock that evening they rushed out of Lennox's tavern and surrounded the nearby National Hotel. Someone spotted Thomas D'Arcy McGee, who had been among the guests at the National, preparing to leave in a carriage. A cry went up amongst the Protestants 'Get the Griffintown Papist!' (Griffintown being an Irish enclave in Montreal, notorious amongst Toronto Protestants as being all they despised amongst the Irish Catholics, and of which McGee was the parliamentary representative) and they chased the carriage as it left, forcing the driver to whip the horses and to flee with McGee for their lives. Back at the Hotel, bricks and stones were being thrown at the Hotel, and by now all the windows had been shattered. Other members of the mob had brought pistols and were firing shots into the hotel.

The prominent Orangemen who arrived from the Albion Hotel called upon their Lodge brothers to cease and remember their oaths to uphold British Law and the Queen's peace. Their words had no effect. They called upon the police officers to break up the mob and protect those inside. That also had no effect. Many of the police actually took part in the riot. Then several of the prominent Orange men slipped through the crowd and vaulted themselves through the broken windows into the hotel. They found the Catholic men there inside, some seeking cover, others pelting the crowd back. The Protestants somehow convinced the Catholics to accept their protection, and Gowan and the others lead the Catholics out of the hotel, personally shielding them from the mob, and quite possibly saving their lives. Despite the large police presence, no one was ever charged or even taken into custody for the attack on the National Hotel.

The next day, Matthew Sheedy died from his wound. The wound had pierced one of his large intestines, which had leaked 'feculant matter' into his bloodstream. He died in agony. Among his last words, he told a friend that the worst part about his dying was that his killer had stolen him from Paddy. Over three thousand would attend his funeral a few days later, and accompany his cortege all the way up Yonge Street to the cemetery at Yonge and St Clair, one of the largest funeral processions in Toronto history.

An inquest was called into Sheedy's murder, and a coroner's jury was selected- every member of which was a Protestant, and many of them Orangemen. The Catholics protested that a jury so composed would never be able to impartially enact justice for a Catholic. The members of the jury were offended at the charge. And so several long weeks of testimony began.

It was confused and confusing. Most of the early testimony dealt with the actions of Lennox, with no mention of Sheedy at all. The murder weapon could not be determined. The coroner testified that he believed the wound to have been from a clasp knife. Several witnesses testified that Sheedy had been stabbed by a pitchfork, and pointed to a man who had been seen waving a pitchfork at that time. The doctor who had treated Sheedy while he was in the pub (and who was also a Protestant) testified that he had spoken to Sheedy while he lay in the pub when no one else was present, and asked him if he could identify his attacker. The doctor said Sheedy told him that the attacker was a friend (i.e., fellow Catholic), whom he refused to name and the stabbing was accidental. A reporter for a Catholic newspaper then testified he spoke to Sheedy shortly after the doctor had left while they were alone in Millar's shop and the reporter claimed  Sheedy said he had been stabbed by someone he didn't know, but who closely resembled the man who had been taken into custody. More protestants came forward who said they had asked Sheedy who had stabbed him, and they all testified he replied he had been stabbed by a friend accidentally, and refused to name the friend. More Catholics came forward and testified they had asked Sheedy who had stabbed him, and they claimed he had said he had been stabbed by a Protestant he didn't know but who resembled the man who had been arrested. Oddly, to our eyes, no one, either civilian or police, asked him how he had been stabbed, or tried to recreate the circumstances of the murder. They only asked him the most direct question: who had done it.

The one man who claimed to have witnessed the attack was found to have been drinking that day, and the protestant jury dismissed his testimony as that of an Irish drunk. Another man came to the inquest drunk, and insinuated that he knew what had really happened, but wasn't going to tell. He was thrown into jail for contempt of court, and when he returned to the inquest a few days later sober he claimed that he was only pretending to know what happened, and he really had no idea and nothing to add. The carter who had been seen driving his horses into the procession, who was also an Orangeman, wanted it to be known that he had done no such thing, and a few fellow Orangemen police officers testified that it was so, for he had been present with them and nowhere near the trouble when he started it. Meanwhile, one member of the jury insisted on asking every Irish witness a single question: were they wearing the green ribbon (symbol of Irish independence) that day? He would then dismiss the testimony of everyone who said 'yes'.

The inquest could come to no firm conclusion. The man who had been arrested was set free, and the cause of Sheedy's death was officially listed as 'murder by person or persons unknown.' The Irish community would have none of that. Sheedy's burial record would read, under the heading 'cause of death': "Murdered by an Orangeman."

As for the riot at the National Hotel, the only people charged for the riot were some of the Catholics from inside the hotel. A preliminary hearing found sufficient evidence to charge Lennox and a few others for their actions during the riot, but at the assizes the charges were never read and were thus dismissed without ever being tried.

In the wake of his death and the attack on the hotel, many in the Irish community concluded they would never be protected or given justice from the police of Toronto, and they formed the Hibernian Benevolent Society, dedicated to providing protection for the Irish in Toronto, by force if necessary. The Fenians would find them fertile recruiting grounds- in fact, the founder o the Hibernians was himself a Fenian, and would die in the US following the Fenian Raids of 1866.

But police reform was coming. It, too, was spurred on by the miscarriage of justice in Sheedy's case. Many in Toronto, not merely the Catholics were fed up with the Orange Lodge protecting its own. The calls for change which began in the wake of the 1855 riots were spurred forward, and, later in 1858, the entire police department was fired on a single day. The new department was to be more reflective of the population of Toronto as a whole, and membership in secret societies was forbidden. That didn't quite work out: many of the officers were still Orangemen in the new force, and the Catholics would be less than ten percent of the force by 1875, though they were twenty per cent of the population. But it was better than nothing.

Sheedy's death would be a rallying cry for years to come. When the Corpus Christi Riot of 1864 occurred, the publisher of the Irish Canadian weekly newspaper would rail that the Orangemen had sought to stop a Catholic procession on the grounds of the Catholic Cathedral. "And now... we must be regulated in future, as to how and where to celebrate our religious festivals, not by our Bishops and Priests, but by the murderers of Sheedy and the sackers of the National Hotel."

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