New: Creators of the Classic City
The original Perth County Court House did not arrive quietly in Stratford. From the beginning, it arrived with arguments, politics, money worries, grand speeches and enough complaints to fill several jail cells—which, as it turned out, were attached to the building.
Perth County became an official county in 1850, although it was rather like a family buying a farm before building the house. The county legally existed, but there was nowhere proper to conduct business, collect taxes or hold court. Some council members felt a courthouse and jail were expensive luxuries. Others realized that running a county without one was a little like trying to hold a wedding without a church, bride or groom. Eventually common sense prevailed—though not without a vigorous debate worthy of its own court proceeding.
Three possible locations were examined for the new building. One site sat near St. James’ Anglican Church. Another parcel was offered by the Canada Company near the railway. The final choice belonged to W.F. McCulloch, whose property overlooked the Avon River from a hilltop location. The committee barely hesitated before choosing McCulloch’s land. Apparently even nineteenth-century politicians understood the importance of a good view. McCulloch himself sweetened matters by donating the site to the county after previously opposing the division of Huron County. It may have been one of Stratford’s earliest examples of civic reconciliation—or perhaps simply excellent real estate strategy.
In 1850 the provisional council offered a prize of 12 pounds and 10 shillings for the best courthouse and jail design. The contest was advertised in the Goderich Huron Signal, since Stratford had yet to establish its own newspaper. Builders were instructed to keep costs below 3,000 pounds, a figure council members likely arrived at by hopeful guessing rather than mathematical certainty. Before long, the reeves discovered their estimate was wildly unrealistic. This marked the beginning of a long and noble tradition in public construction projects: discovering the budget was fantasy after work had already started.
By 1851 Sebastian Fryfogel, who had campaigned against constructing such extravagant buildings, cast the deciding vote in favour of the project after becoming Warden. Peter Ferguson, an architect living in Stratford, designed the building in a restrained classical style with six imposing pillars across the entrance. The jail stood attached behind the courthouse facing Elizabeth Street. Ferguson attempted to accommodate both prisoners and county officials under one roof, though complaints soon surfaced that the prisoners enjoyed larger and better quarters than some civic employees.
Construction began ceremoniously on July 1, 1852. More than a thousand people joined a procession led by the Stratford band through town streets and across the Avon River to McCulloch’s Hill. Warden Smith delivered a speech before placing coins and documents inside the foundation stone. Afterwards nearly seventy prominent citizens attended a lavish dinner at Peter Woods’ Union Hotel with speeches, songs and musical entertainment. Stratford clearly understood from an early date that no major civic improvement should ever occur without a proper banquet attached to it.
The courthouse quickly became a central part of county life, although not everyone admired it equally. Local newspapers criticized council for squeezing economy at the expense of convenience. In 1884 the Beacon newspaper mocked the overcrowded courthouse offices with biting humour. One suggestion proposed knocking a hole through the courthouse wall so judges could stick their heads outside for fresh air during lengthy proceedings. Another editorial proposed moving county clerks into the jail cells, since those rooms were apparently larger and more comfortable. The newspaper cheerfully noted unemployed men in Stratford would likely volunteer for such accommodations. One suspects county council members laughed nervously while reading those editorials.
Court proceedings themselves occasionally produced unintended comedy. The first County Court Judge, Read Burritt, exchanged positions with another judge named Charles Robinson. Robinson apparently found Stratford less than charming. Years later he explained his reason for leaving. While attempting to enjoy a nightly toddy, he was repeatedly disturbed by frogs croaking outside his residence. To Robinson’s irritated ears, the frogs sounded remarkably like they were chanting, “The Joooge is tronk!” over and over again. Stratford’s frogs may not have understood the law, but they apparently excelled in satire.
By the 1880s, Perth County had outgrown its original courthouse. After more than thirty years, the old building no longer suited the county’s expanding needs. In 1885 several reeves toured other Ontario counties inspecting courthouse designs in Orangeville and other locations at a cost of twenty dollars per person. Taxpayers were unimpressed with what sounded suspiciously like an architectural holiday, and they were chastised for their spending. Nevertheless, the officials returned determined to erect a grander structure. George F. Durand of London prepared plans, and in 1885 the Daly property at the head of Ontario Street was purchased for $3,500.
Construction contracts worth $65,700 were awarded to local builders Scrimgeour Bros. Limestone from St. Marys formed the foundation while white brick walls were trimmed with red Credit Valley sandstone. In a curious coincidence, work on the courthouse occurred simultaneously with construction at Queen’s Park in Toronto, and some of the same stonecutters worked on both projects. Stratford residents likely enjoyed reminding visitors their courthouse shared craftsmanship with the provincial legislature—even if Toronto received slightly more attention afterward.
The new courthouse was officially to be opened in June 1887 during celebrations for Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. However, schedules changed and it was opened on May 9, 1887. The building opened with electric lights. Five hundred dollars was set aside for festivities and due to earlier opening these monies were returned to the City’s coffers. Visitors marvelled at the building’s grand staircase, oak furnishings, stained glass and tiled floors. The courtroom, jury room and judges’ chambers occupied the second floor, while fireproof vaults protected important county documents in the basement. The Beacon proudly informed readers that from the judge’s chair to the prisoner’s dock, everything appeared “on a costly and magnificent scale.” Stratford had finally achieved a courthouse impressive enough to silence critics—at least temporarily.
Outside, the courthouse tower rose 115 feet above Ontario Street. Decorative terra cotta panels represented art, justice, agriculture, manufacturing and architecture. For years many believed the carvings were created by London stone carver John Matheson. Nearly a century later renovators discovered the true artist’s signature: Henry Plasschaert, a noted terra cotta sculptor who later taught in Pennsylvania. History occasionally hides its artists in plain sight, perhaps because even buildings enjoy keeping secrets. The lion that held a lofty view from the ridge of the roof can now been seen at The Perth Stratford Archives. |Sculptor Dawna Robertson recreated this handsome animal. Watch the documentary at https://sdhs2019.ca/percy-henry-documentary/
Today the Perth County Court House remains one of Stratford’s most recognizable landmarks. It has witnessed generations of trials, debates, ceremonies and civic decisions. Through changing fashions, political arguments and countless legal disputes, the old building still overlooks the city with the same dignified confidence it possessed in the nineteenth century.