6/22/22: St. John's Churches, The Rooms, Jellybean Row, Signal Hill, & Quidi Vidi!

After beginning our tour of Newfoundland on its southwest tip, Steven and I were delighted to have ventured to its northernmost tip before meandering across the island, spending a few days on the adjacent and unforgettable Fogo Island, and up and down peninsulas, before finally reaching St. John's, the provincial capital. The city officially dates to 1497, when islanders believe the explorer John Cabot sailed into the harbor and claimed the area for England. About 50 years later, St. John's Harbour was a significant port on old-world maps, and Jacques Cartier, the French explorer, anchored there to repair his ship. It was the British, though, who had the greatest impact after sending settlers to the new colony. 

However, the defenseless port was considered fair game for other European powers, with the Dutch and French each taking turns plundering it. St. John's was described as a "seamy port" for much of its early period, owing to its lack of a permanent settlement and social constraints. 80 taverns and innumerable brothels flourished! Once the British got the upper hand, Anglo immigration was encouraged. However, the Great Fire of 1892 destroyed much of the city, leveling 1,572 homes and 150 shops and leaving 1,900 families homeless. The stores, churches, and merchant mansions were reconstructed in a predominantly Gothic Revival style.

St. John's Ecclesiastical District: The cultural landscape in the heart of the capital conveyed the breadth of Christian institutions' involvement in the city and province's history and political life. Located in close proximity to one another were Anglican, Catholic, Methodist, and Presbyterian churches that helped shape residents' lives through the establishment of spiritual, philanthropic, charitable, and educational institutions.

The Anglican Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, Gower Street United Church, and St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church have long served as visual landmarks both from the harbor and within downtown. 

Gower Street United Church, established in 1815 as a Methodist church, featured Romanesque Revival architecture with Gothic elements. It was the third on the site since 1816 and was meant to rival the Anglican and Catholic cathedrals in stature. Although the church was closed, it was evident that it was a welcoming ministry.

Construction of the Gothic Revival-style St. John the Baptist Anglican Cathedral began in 1847, and reflected the ideals of the Cambridge Camden Society, an English group dedicated to reforming the Anglican Church through a return to 13th-century sources. Upon entering, it was disheartening to find that only one person was attending the daily service.

The Benevolent Irish Society Building was constructed between 1877 and 1880 and served as the headquarters for the oldest philanthropic organization in North America. St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, or The Kirk, was also built after the 1892 fire. Its grounds were a former Catholic cemetery.

The Roman Catholic Church was formally established in Newfoundland by Irish settlers at the end of the 18th century. The church has since played an important role in the province's religious, political, and social history. When construction of the Basilica of St. John the Baptist began in 1841, it was an ambitious project for the time. On its completion in 1855, the Basilica was the largest in North America and remains one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture on the continent. It was the only church in the city to survive the Great Fire of 1892. 

The Catholic precinct had the most complete range of surviving church structures and spaces in the district, including convents, schools, a library, and the former bishop's palace, all grouped around the basilica. Those helped in imparting a particularly strong sense of historical time and place. 

Although there were no clouds visible and the sky was as blue as it could be in the church district, a short distance away, there was significant fog atop Signal Hill. We could just make out Cabot Tower in the distance. Its construction began in 1898 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of John Cabot's landing in Newfoundland and Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. It was also used as a wireless station, receiving the first transatlantic transmission on December 12, 1901, by Guglielmo Marconi.

Near the church district was one of Canada's finest cultural facilities, The Rooms, a provincial museum, art gallery, and archives under one roof. It was styled like the oceanfront "fishing rooms" where Newfoundlanders processed their catch. 

Come Home was a major provincial campaign to encourage former residents to return following pandemic restrictions. It included more than 340 projects across 171 communities.

Huge windows in the museum allowed uninterrupted views across the city and harbor.

Every spring, families moved to Newfoundland coves to fish the inshore grounds, bringing their household goods, livestock, and poultry. The crude summer homes, made of sod, timber, and stone, were called tilts, stages, and flakes or simply the rooms. The latter was the origin of the museum's name. They worked their small gardens nearby and let their livestock graze the common areas.

Irish immigration to the province was unique in that no comparable place on the continent drew its immigrants from such a localized part of Ireland over such an extended period. Almost all the Irish came from the Waterford area, beginning around 1700 and continuing until 1850. During much of the 18th century, migrations were seasonal, with up to 5,000 young men leaving each spring to work as laborers in the summer cod fisheries.

By the 1800s, more Irish immigrants chose to stay in Newfoundland because their economic prospects had improved greatly. About half of the 75,000 residents were of Irish birth or descent in 1836, and most were Catholic. More than 75% of all Irish immigrants lived in St. John's, and although more than 400 settlements were recorded, most had fewer than 15 homes. Almost half of the province's modern population are descendants of Irish immigrants.

 

I hadn't realized that Newfoundland was the only major region outside Europe with an Irish Gaelic name recorded in Irish poetry in 1750: Talamh an Éisc, meaning the Fishing Ground or the Land of the Fish. 

Newfoundland boat builders often designed their punts or skiffs for each outport, small, tightly knit coastal communities built on the family-run salt cod industry, and which are quintessential symbols of Newfoundland. The boats were often constructed for individual families, with the shapes of the three basic moulds passed down through generations, changing only slightly.

Had to smile at the COVID-19 references back in 2022 and again now, thinking back to those harrowing times.

Posters from 1948 reflected the decision to become the tenth province and join Canada.

Outports saw great changes after Confederation in 1949. Efforts to modernize the provincial economy and services led to resettlement programs, which resulted in the abandonment of about 300 outports between 1954 and 1975 because they were too remote to benefit from new initiatives. 

The suspension of cod fishing in July 1992 was another blow to the outport way of life, resulting in the largest mass layoff in Canadian history, with 30,000 workers losing their livelihoods. In an instant, the cod moratorium signaled the end of an industry that had sustained settlements and outports for centuries. 

In previous posts, I wrote about the people of Gander who helped immeasurably when 38 planes were diverted to their small airport on September 11, 2011 as a result of terrorist attacks. But I hadn't known that Gander Airport was the world's largest during World War II, because it served as a North Atlantic anti-submarine surveillance base and was heavily used by the military to ferry new aircraft to Europe.

There was a large exhibit on the atrocities perpetrated against the Indigenous students in Newfoundland and Labrador sent to schools far from their families. On November 24, 2017, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau delivered an apology on behalf of the Canadian government as part of the Reconciliation process to deal with years of legal struggles and pain. 

Another view of the fog rolling in from the museum's windows:

We walked through the exhibit marking the province's involvement in World War I through the Royal Newfoundland Regiment. Patriotism and the prospect of a regular wage were viewed favorably, given the scarcity of steady jobs. Sadly, the official casualty list was overwhelming, with one in five men who joined the Regiment dying and more than one in three being wounded. 

A penny for a life: A memorial plaque was sent to every family in the British Empire that lost a loved one in the war. All deaths were made equal, as no ranks were included on the British one-cent coins that came to be known as death pennies. If you are ever in St. John's, make sure to stop in The Rooms and also explore the displays on the province's natural and human history. The museum was a treasure. 

I've always been drawn to distance markers when we travel. This one was different, however, as the arrows pointed to the places of origin of some city residents. As a result of a collaboration among Parks Canada, the Association for New Canadians, and Memorial University of Newfoundland and Labrador, newcomers and international students now call St. John's home. 

Support for the people of Ukraine against the Russian invasion was strong even in Newfoundland in 2022.

One area of the city I've never forgotten is Jellybean Row, for its collection of candy-colored homes that now bring to mind the equally bright homes throughout Greenland! Even the mailboxes were a hoot to look at! While most were residential homes, some had been converted into inns and B&Bs.

As we strolled through the area, we were serenaded by fog horns and seagulls! Believe me, I'll take that combination any day.

Steven and I were surprised to be allowed to roam the grounds of Government House, which has served as the official residence of the Lieutenant Governor of Newfoundland and Labrador since 1829. The building was constructed between 1827 and 1831 in the Palladian style.

The first Heart Garden in the province was established on the grounds of Government House in 2019, "in memory of all Indigenous children lost to the residential school system, in recognition of those who survived, and the families of both."

Next door was one of the oldest homes in the city,  the Commissariat House and Garden, a late Georgian home begun in 1818 as the residence and offices of the Assistant Commissary General, or ACG, stationed in St. John's. From 1821 to 1870, the officer oversaw the pay, supplies, and services required by the British military establishment. Fortunately, it survived the fires of 1846 and 1892 because of its location on the city's outskirts. It was briefly a nursing home and hospital before becoming an Anglican rectory until 1969. It was then restored to 1830 and the garden to mid-century.

The furniture was true to the period, but not to the house, the guide said.

The office belonged to the ACG, a civilian in a military job responsible for procuring supplies. 

Merchants met with staff in the general staff office to discuss mostly food provisions.

The drawing room was where people were wined and dined, and cards were played. The wall colors were typical of the era.

Upstairs were the bedrooms, with the first belonging to the ACG. His uniform, draped over the chair, was similar to a military one, but he was not a member of any service. 

A guest room:

This image reminded me of the lyrics to Gordon Lightfoot's song, Sundown, "creeping 'round the steep back stairs!"

As we walked toward the harbor, it was a little nippy with a stiff breeze blowing.

Overlooking the harbor was the Newfoundland National War Memorial, located where troops would depart and return from war. It was one of only two national war memorials in Canada, with the other being in Ottawa, my hometown. It featured five bronze sculptures on a large granite base, with the central female figure, sometimes called "Victory" or "Liberty," holding a torch and a sword, symbolizing Newfoundland's willingness to serve. 

Standing guard over the harbor were sculptures of a Newfoundland Dog and a Labrador Retriever, inviting people to touch and even sit on them! A sign said no one knows the origin of the former, but theories abound that it descended from the Tibetan Mastiff, the Norse Black Dog, the Great Pyrenees, or the French Boathound. However, it is believed that they came over with the fishermen. The Newfoundland Dog's large tail acts as a rudder when it swims!

The Labrador Retriever descended from the Newfoundland but was crossed with English Setters and Pointers to strengthen the retriever's hunting capabilities. 

With more than 1,000 vessels arriving annually as of 2022, the Port of St. John's has become the East Coast's primary supply and service center for the offshore oil industry. 

We then ambled through the Water Street Historic District, which had been the city's main commercial thoroughfare since the 16th century. The mid-19th-century buildings and street patterns reflected the growing influence of St. John's merchants on the province's fishing industry and Atlantic commerce.

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St. John's Courthouse was located further down the street.

The next block or so was filled with bar after bar after bar, perfectly befitting a seaport!

These window signs encouraging people who had worked from home during COVID to return to downtown work made me smile!

Parking our car in a garage downtown was cheap at just $12 for five hours. We commented on how thoughtful and considerate the drivers of both government vehicles and private cars were, even stopping to let jaywalkers like us cross the street. Wouldn't it be nice if drivers in other cities occasionally slowed down, instead of always charging full steam ahead!

After spotting Signal Hill through the windows at The Rooms, Steven and I then traipsed to the top of Signal Hill Historic Site, which was known as the Lookout in the 1700s. It was part of a British signaling system used to convey information about friendly or hostile ships. In addition to the fortifications on the hill, the garrison consisted of entire families living on the summit. Even though only a small portion of men were allowed to marry, those who did were accompanied by their wives and children, who became part of the military establishment. The fortifications on the summit were more than just a military establishment; they were home to many.

How we loved the chairs conveniently placed at historic sites throughout the province.

It was a picture-perfect, glorious day in St. John's with the sun shining bright, as long as you were above the fog!

In the foreground was the Imperial Powder Magazine, a building designed with thick stone walls and a slate roof to protect the large amount of gunpowder stored inside that was part of a plan to develop the summit of Signal Hill as a citadel for the city. 

Early civilian history from 1649 to 1696 in defending St. John's focused on protecting the narrow opening, called The Narrows,  into the harbor against naval attack. A successful French attack in 1696 led to the establishment of an English garrison the following year. After the French overland attacks in 1705, 1709, and 1762 were successful, the British recapture of Signal Hill in 1762 demonstrated its strategic importance. The British concentrated their defenses on Signal Hill and the Narrows, with the summit of the hill serving as the citadel for St. John's.

Signal Hill's importance lay beyond its defenses and military significance. Poets, songwriters, and artists have celebrated its timeless strength, making it a proud symbol of endurance for the city below.

In addition to serving as a natural gathering point for civic and national celebrations, the hill offered dramatic scenery, historical attractions, and trails that drew visitors in quieter times. 

Even though we'd hoped to have sweeping views of the ocean and city from Signal Hill, the fog turned out to be far better than any view might have been! Steven and I thought that only once before, possibly in Tahoe, California, had we been above the clouds like this. 

Pack ice, frozen seawater up to 27 inches thick, is often present in the waters off St. John's from February through April. Thank God we live here in balmy Denver in the winter, and we got to visit St. John's in the summer.

We certainly didn't have a clue back in mid-2022 that, in almost exactly three years, we'd find ourselves in Greenland, of all places, for a few weeks! I write that because that country's glaciers produce up to 40,000 icebergs a year and an average of 370 drift as far south as St. John's. However, in the winter of 1983-84, 22,200 reached the city! A typical iceberg is 100 ft. high and weighs 204,000 tons, but only one-eighth of an iceberg appears above water!

Cabot Tower, the landmark on Signal Hill that we'd first seen from the city far below us that morning, was where Marconi and his assistant confirmed the reception of the first transatlantic radio signals. With a telephone receiver and a wire antenna held aloft by a kite, they heard Morse Code for the letter "S" transmitted from Poldhu, Cornwall, England. Their experiments demonstrated that radio signals extended far beyond the horizon, giving radio a new global dimension for communication at the dawn of the 20th century. 

Views from the tower:

Another must-see area of the capital was Quidi Vidi, pronounced Kiddie Viddie, as my high school friend Diana told me a few weeks earlier when we stopped to visit her and her husband in Toronto at the beginning of this leg of our road trip! The azure-blue waters of the lake surround the picturesque village of the same name, where we had a ball taking in the charming views at every turn.

After many years of study, scholar and ethno-linguist Dr. E. R. Seary concluded that no place name "occurs in so many variant forms, and none has generated so much speculation about its name as Quidi Vidi." Some include:

Kitty-Witty from 1699 in Surgeon James Yonge's Journal,

Quirividy from 1697 by French priest Abbe Beaudoin,

Quimiditi from 1704, allegedly on an old French map, and 

Kitty Velle from 1763 by Captain James Cook.

There are almost as many explanations as to the origin of its name: Some include: 

After a woman named Kitty Biddy kept a public house on the lake,

A corruption of Guy's Divide,

From the Italian cita vecchia, meaning old town,

From the French quittez and evitez, meaning to leave or avoid, and

A Portuguese expression of surprise.

Dr. Seary found it "more probable" that the name originated in a French family of place names such as Quidville or Quetteville, as a Jersey family with that name had early ties to the Newfoundland fishing industry.

Mallard Cottage may have been built as early as the 1760s and is certainly one of the oldest private homes on the island. 

Though church services were held at Quidi Vidi as early as 1834, in 1862, Anglicans, Methodists, and Congregationalists combined to build Christ Church here. After a dwindling congregation led to its closure, the building was acquired by the Newfoundland Historic Trust. The church was featured in The Viking, the first talking motion picture made outside the US in 1931. 

To end our magical day in St. John's, Steven and I strolled along a chunk of the Quidi Vidi Lake Trail.

Next post: On to Aquaforte via Irish Loop, Cape Spear, Bay Bulls' Whale & Puffin Watching, La Manche Provincial Park Suspension Bridge, & Colony of Avalon!

Posted on February 3rd, 2026, from Denver, where Steven and I were delightfully caught off guard by our son, Zachary, and his fiancée, Noora, who decided last Wednesday, January 28th, they were going to have a 'modern-day elopement' on February 1st at a nearby state park! That term was new to us until they explained that it meant getting married with only parents and a few others present. I was thrilled that they wanted my brother, John, a photographer in Ottawa, to take pictures, so he flew down on Friday to become part of the festivities! The weather gods shone on them with warm temperatures in a gorgeous mountain setting, and everything went off without a hitch, as if it had been planned for months! There'll be a bigger splash in September with more family members and friends.