William “Red” Hill (right)
Credit: Niagara Falls (Ontario) Public Library
Born and bred in Niagara Falls, Ontario, I grew up awash in the lore of William “Red” Hill, Niagara’s most famous riverman. I’d see the rusted-out hull of the old scow still lodged in the upper rapids of the river and be reminded of him rescuing the men marooned there in 1918. I’d see the plaque commemorating the ice bridge tragedy of 1912 and know he’d risked his life to save a teenage boy named Ignatius Roth. I’d open the newspaper and read a story about his son Wes carrying on the Hill tradition and rescuing a stranded stunter.
When I set out to write a novel capturing the wonder I feel while standing at the brink of the falls, Red Hill’s life was a natural place to find inspiration. Like my character Tom Cole, Red Hill was born with a caul and had an uncanny knowledge of the river, a knowledge he would pass on to his sons. It was said he could predict the weather simply by listening to the roar of the falls, also that he would wake in the night knowing he would find a body tossing in the river the following day. In his lifetime (1888-1942) he hauled 177 bodies from the river, rescued 29 people and hundreds of animals and birds, and assisted a handful of stunters. He was the only man alive to have been awarded four lifesaving medals─the first, at the age of seven, for saving his aunt from a flame-engulfed house, another for rescuing the whistling swans that were swept over the falls each winter onto the ice below, and two more for the ice bridge and scow rescues, both of which are retold in The Day the Falls Stood Still.
The ten turbines of the Queenston powerhouse all became operational in Red Hill’s lifetime. Perhaps he saw the Niagara as diminished and, like Tom Cole, in some way mourned the river as it once was. Both men were spared the 1950 Niagara Diversion Treaty still in use today. With the drastically more lenient diversion limits set out in that treaty, the water plummeting over the Horseshoe and American Falls now amounts to about 50 percent of the natural flow during the daylight hours of the tourist season and 25 percent otherwise.
Red Hill Junior moments before plunging to his death
Credit: Niagara Falls (Ontario) Public Library
There were aspects of Red Hill I did not incorporate into Tom Cole. Red Hill shot the lower rapids in a barrel three times, in one instance becoming trapped in the whirlpool. The oldest of his sons, Red Junior, lashed a rope around his waist and plunged into the water, eventually hauling his father’s barrel to shore. According to local lore, Red Junior was paraded about on his father’s shoulders, a hero. My riverman would not have lauded the daring. The Niagara was not a river to be mocked.
Red Junior and his brother Major both shot the rapids. Both attempted “the big drop.” Major’s trip was cut short when his barrel was tossed ashore in the upper rapids. Red Junior was not so lucky. In 1951 he plunged to his death in a barrel constructed of inflated rubber tubes, canvas, and fishnets. Corky, another of the Hill brothers, died in an accident while working in a hydroelectric diversion tunnel.
Red Hill’s wife, Beatrice, was quoted as saying that she hated the river, that she was afraid of it. Perhaps rightly so.