It’s romantic to imagine, as J. Edward Martin hints in On A Streak of Lightning: Electric Railways in Canada (Studio E, 1994), “horses at work, heads nodding, tails swishing, bells cheerily announcing the tram’s approach.” But in the Star, Adam Mayers disabused readers of any “Doctor Zhivago–like scene of pastoral winter tranquility.” The streetcars in winter were cramped, uncomfortable, and accompanied by a sub-zero wind chill to boot. Bundled in coats and mittens, passengers sat on frigid wooden benches. Hay or straw strewn on the floor provided some precious—though hardly satisfactory—insulation around their feet. Wood-burning stoves came later, but drivers—who had their own problems to contend with in wintry months—tended to the stoves infrequently.
Magnus Sinclair, a streetcar operator from the old days who’d help found the union, reminisced in Filey’s history of Toronto’s streetcars, painting a gloomy picture of life as a TSR driver. Through all kinds of weather—rain, sleet, snow, subzero wind, and ice—the driver stood exposed to the elements on the open platform at the front of the streetcar, directing it along its route while earning only fifteen cents an hour for a twelve- or fourteen-hour shift. The company steadfastly opposed windshields or other shelter based on the fear that they would obstruct the driver’s view with dust, grime, or ice and cause accidents. “Of course, many drivers became numb and unconscious from cold and exposure, and had to be carried into corner stores to be thawed back to life,” Magnus Sinclair recalled. “The provision of adequate shelter and warmth was one of the first major battles entered into by the Union.” Winter was not, strictly speaking, a profitable season for street railway companies in Canada either. Martin argues that in addition to the purchase and maintenance of sleighs and equipment, the company incurred costs to settle litigation over winter accidents and to replace horses injured in falls on icy roads.
Seasonal complaints against the street railway were common—although they seldom reached the comical pitch of the 1881 battle royale. “To suit its own convenience and profit,” the Globe grumbled on January 27, 1875, “that company has throughout all this season persistently kept to wheeled vehicles, and thereby made such deep ruts in the snow that there is no possibility of a sleigh or cutter crossing without a imminent danger of being overset.” The newspaper complained of a double standard in the city’s enforcement of snow clearing because, while the railway went unpunished, home owners on main thoroughfares who neglected to clear their sidewalks were frequently fined by the Police Magistrate.
The Globe also hinted that the core problem wasn’t lack of snow removal but the use of wheeled vehicles year-round. According to the terms of the 1861 agreement, when the tracks were impassable, “sufficient sleighs shall be provided [by the TSR] for the accommodation of the public.” Instead, Mayers adds, the TSR preferred to replace the regular, smooth streetcar wheels with ones with heavy-duty teeth that—with the weight of the vehicle—crushed the ice and allowed wheeled vehicles to continue to operate in inclement weather. Other cities were more successful in their dealings with streetcar companies. In London, city officials tired of fighting the London Street Railway over snow removal and putting salt on the tracks and banned snow removal of any kind to force the company to use sleighs. Montreal made no effort in the least to clear snow, so sleighs were common. The use of sleighs, however, had drawbacks. “[O]nce released from the constraints of rails,” Martin noted, “the public conveyances could be driven anywhere. Strict routing disappeared as drivers detoured around heavy drifts, dropped friends at their door and caused no end of disruption to schedules.”