Two world wars changed the town of Paris forever

King’s Ward School at 3 Broadway St., Paris, was built in 1881. By 1910, the school was closed and the building became the Paris Armoury, which was demolished in 1972. The present Paris Central School is now on this site.

By Chris Whelan

Editor

In the years leading up to 1914, the people of Paris viewed war as the ultimate adventure. They associated war with historic triumphs like the Plains of Abraham, Queenston Heights, Waterloo, and Trafalgar —moments when soldiers earned honor and the civilian population celebrated their victories vicariously. Military events were intertwined with social gatherings and grand spectacle. In 1912, the establishment of the 25th Brant Dragoons company in Paris and the conversion of the old Central School into an armory reflected this connection.

On the night of August 4, 1914, news reached Paris between nine and ten o'clock that war had been declared between Great Britain and Germany. In response, the Citizens' Band gathered opposite the fire hall and began playing patriotic songs. The stirring notes of the national anthem, "God Save the King," and other familiar tunes drew a large crowd. The people joined in singing and cheering enthusiastically. Later, the Boy Scout Bugle Band paraded through the town, accompanied by torchbearers. The cheers for King George V echoed continuously.

Alfred Scott, a plumber, local scoutmaster, and reservist in the 2nd Battalion of the West Durham Light 

Infantry, became the first Paris resident to be called for active duty. His departure on August 6, 1914, was marked with a grand send-off by the citizens of Paris. During the war, the Canadian government provided a monthly separation allowance of $20 to the wives of enlisted soldiers. Husbands were required to give half of their monthly pay, approximately $16.50, to support their families. However, if there were children, the families often faced financial hardship.

To alleviate the hardships faced by soldiers' families, the Patriotic League was established in August 1914 with the aim of raising funds. Shortly after the war began, the league provided support to ten families in Paris. Over time, the league managed to raise a total of $1,940, continuously collecting funds throughout the war. Members of the Prince of Wales Chapter, Daughters of the Empire, tirelessly sought subscriptions for the purchase of a machine gun, which would accompany the Paris boys to the front lines. Mr. and Mrs. John Penman also 

made a generous donation of another machine gun. In Paris, $2,001.13 was collected to purchase a Moto-Ambulance to be given to the Red Cross. Ditty bags, packed with hand-knitted socks, toiletries, cigarettes, and treats, were sent to the soldiers who eagerly awaited these thoughtful gifts. The first high explosive shell manufactured in Paris was proudly displayed in the window of J. H. Fisher and Sons store, showcasing the town's contribution to the war effort.

At around 4 a.m. on November 11, 1918, the news arrived that an armistice had been signed to end the Great War. However, this information was withheld until 6 a.m. when it was officially announced to the citizens of Paris. Bells rang, whistles blew, and people poured out onto the streets to celebrate. By 8 a.m., Mayor Robinson addressed the crowd with a few brief words, followed by hymns, prayers, and the National Anthem. It was a moment of gratitude and jubilation for the people of Paris.

Sunday, September 3, 1939, dawned in Paris with warm sunshine and a gentle breeze meandering through the bustling business section of Grand River Street. As the day unfolded, a special edition of the Brantford Expositor paper, carried by the breeze, scattered rumpled sheets along the sidewalks and roadway. The usually vibrant area appeared desolate, devoid of cars, pedestrians, or any lively discussions. The atmosphere exuded melancholy and a sense of foreboding. The Paris Star later reported that Parisians greeted the British declaration of war on September 3 with somber silence. How different it was from August 4, 1914! There were no exuberant crowds, no blaring bands or bugle corps, no thrilling parades, no impassioned speeches, no prayers for swift victory and the humiliation of the enemy. In 1939, Parisians seemed apprehensive, likely influenced by the stories they had read about the First World War and the realistic films they had seen, such as "All Quiet on the Western Front" and "Journey's End." In November 1939, the valedictorian at Paris High School aptly expressed this sentiment in her speech, stating, "The horrors of war haunt us."

On August 4, 1914, Parisians eager for the latest news and eager to celebrate imminent victories flocked downtown to read telegraph bulletins posted in front of the town newspaper office. However, on September 3, 1939, the majority remained in their homes, listening to their radios, devoid of any inclination for cheer or 

song. The only notable similarity between the two days was that, following both declarations of war, many Parisians, especially the older generation, believed that Canadians were primarily fighting on behalf of Great Britain, the King, and the Empire. While they held a deep loyalty to Canada, their racial origins and classroom indoctrination nurtured a stronger allegiance to Britain and the monarchy. This sentiment was evident in the September 7, 1939, edition of the Paris Star, which prominently displayed a large picture of George VI, the British monarch, rather than the Canadian prime minister. The headline in bold letters read, "The King Calls!" Below the picture, the editor placed the war speech of George VI, emphasizing the British connection. Interestingly, the official Canadian declaration of war 

was made by the British Governor-General of Canada, John Buchan, representing the King. There were no celebrations, no official send-offs for volunteers, no band music, parades, speeches, or crisp $10.00 bills. In fact, when the first high-school boy enlisted, there was no ceremony at the school, and some of his fellow pupils expressed their lack of enthusiasm, commenting that he must be "nuts" or that he would soon regret his decision. Sadly, the fate of that particular volunteer remains unknown, as he was killed during the Dieppe raid, causing anguish for his family and friends. 

Sunday, September 3, 1939, dawned in Paris with warm sunshine and a gentle breeze meandering through the bustling business section of Grand River Street. As the day unfolded, a special edition of the Brantford Expositor paper, carried by the breeze, scattered rumpled sheets along the sidewalks and roadway. The usually vibrant area appeared desolate, devoid of cars, pedestrians, or any lively discussions. The atmosphere exuded melancholy and a sense of foreboding. The Paris Star later reported that Parisians greeted the British declaration of war on September 3 with somber silence. How different it was from August 4, 1914! There were no exuberant crowds, no blaring bands or bugle corps, no thrilling parades, no impassioned speeches, no prayers for swift victory and the humiliation of the enemy. In 1939, Parisians seemed apprehensive, likely influenced by the stories they had read about the First World War and the realistic films they had seen, such as "All Quiet on the Western Front" and "Journey's End." In November 1939, the valedictorian at Paris High School aptly expressed this sentiment in her speech, stating, "The horrors of war haunt us."

On August 4, 1914, Parisians eager for the latest news and eager to celebrate imminent victories flocked downtown to read telegraph bulletins posted in front of the town newspaper office. However, on September 3, 1939, the majority remained in their homes, listening to their radios, devoid of any inclination for cheer or 

song. The only notable similarity between the two days was that, following both declarations of war, many Parisians, especially the older generation, believed that Canadians were primarily fighting on behalf of Great Britain, the King, and the Empire. While they held a deep loyalty to Canada, their racial origins and classroom indoctrination nurtured a stronger allegiance to Britain and the monarchy. This sentiment was evident in the September 7, 1939, edition of the Paris Star, which prominently displayed a large picture of George VI, the British monarch, rather than the Canadian prime minister. The headline in bold letters read, "The King Calls!" Below the picture, the editor placed the war speech of George VI, emphasizing the British connection. Interestingly, the official Canadian declaration of war  was made by the British Governor-General of Canada, John Buchan, representing the King. There were no celebrations, no official send-offs for volunteers, no band music, parades, speeches, or crisp $10.00 bills. In fact, when the first high-school boy enlisted, there was no ceremony at the school, and some of his fellow pupils expressed their lack of enthusiasm, commenting that he must be "nuts" or that he would soon regret his decision. Sadly, the fate of that particular volunteer remains unknown, as he was killed during the Dieppe raid, causing anguish for his family and friends.