Living on the Frontier

We begin our adventure just past the International Bridge, which connects Fort Frances with International Falls, Minnesota. In this historic photo we see two mounties in their iconic Red Serge ceremonial uniforms standing beneath the 'Welcome to Canada' sign. The sign was erected to much fanfare in 1948, and it quickly became a popular photo spot for both American tourists and local residents. It was torn down in 1976 as it had fallen into disrepair.¹
Before we dive into the modern history of Fort Frances, which is the focus of this tour, let's set the stage by casting further back in time to the First Peoples and the fur traders.

This building you see here was Christie's Meat Market. It was built in 1903, the same year that the 75 eligible voters that lived here (men over the age of 21) elected to officially incorporate Fort Frances as a town.¹ Louis Christie was a popular butcher and prominent entrepreneur in Fort Frances in the 1890s—people called him the Meat King of the Rainy River.
He built his new meat market here after his previous market had burned down, and the spot was significant for another reason: it had previously been the site of the Knox Church, the oldest church in the parish, dating back to 1884. Unfortunately, in 1903 it also burned down (it happened a lot in those days). So Christie bought the lot in the expectation that this was going to be heart of the new town's business district.

Here at the corner of Church and Central Street is where the Emperor Hotel once stood. At the time Central Street, running was known as Front Street, and in those early days this was the heart of Fort Frances.
The hotel was built in 1907, one of several grand hotels around this area at a time when regal names were all the rage—the others were the Palace (located where the pulp mill parking is now), Prince Albert (which was located right across from Christie's Meat Market) and the Monarch (which we will see later in this tour).
It was the largest hotel in town and unsurprisingly advertised itself as the "best hotel" too. As Julie Byzewski writes, the hotel's owner Jim Harty "boasted of finest hot and cold collations (of food) that could be procured, unadulterated liquours, and the finest cigars that money could buy (at ten cents each)." It was "beautifully situated overlooking the big Mill, with everything modern and up to date, large airy rooms, comfortably heated, the home of the comercial traveller, with a bright cheery dining room in connection.

Here we see a crowd gathered in rather fine attire on the steps and balconies of the Fort Frances Hotel, another of the major landmarks that once lined Front Street. As one resident remarked on those early days, "it was typical lumberjack town, there were no street lights, only a kerosene lantern at the corner of Scott Street and Portage Ave. and it was lit only part of the time."¹

This photo, taken from the other side of the streetand looking back in this direction, shows the Alberton Hotel during Front Street's heyday around the turn of the last century. At right you can just see the third storey of the Fort Frances Hotel as well. The Alberton was also home to the City Bakery, S. Haryett General Merchants, and Breckon's soft drink emporium—the first such soft drink emporium that Fort Frances boasted.
Of course you will have noticed that none of the buildings we've seen on Front Street so far have survived to the present. A big reason for that most of the town's business district burned down on June 16, 1905.

The Monarch Hotel once stood on this corner, one of the survivors of the 1905 fire. It stood until relatively recently, changing its name to the Irwin Hotel along with a coat of salmon paint.

The fire of 1905 reduced Fort Frances’s business district along Front Street to cinders, but the people of the town were undeterred. Reconstruction began immediately, and as we can see from this photo, much of it was occurring on Scott Street where the land was cheaper. The first more permanent brick buildings are going up, and the water tower in the distance indicates the establishment of a modern waterworks.

Looking down Scott Street in the 1920s, we see the town has grown and cars have become commonplace. At the far left is the newly-built Dominion Bank, which moved into that distinctive building in 1922. That building was torn down in 1984 to make way for the present TD bank building.
On New Years Eve in 1930, the Dominion Bank was the scene of a brazen mid-day robbery by a 16-year-old boy.

Here we see the famous Rainy Lake Hotel, once Scott Street's crown jewel.
The Rainy Lake Hotel was the result of the Fort Frances Hotel Company's ambition to build a modern tourist hotel that would anchor the growing community. In 1928 they succeeded in raising $150,000 ($2.3 million today) and commissioned Arthur Hanford, a prominent Duluth architect, to design a landmark worthy of the optimism of the Roaring 20s (they were unfortunately aware the Great Depression and the Dirty Thirties were about to start).
True to his reputation, Hanford delivered a striking blueprint blending Spanish-inspired elegance with cutting-edge amenities—a symbol of prosperity for the frontier town.
The grand opening on June 15, 1929, was a triumph. Canada’s Minister of Labour, officiated the ceremony, which culminated in a lavish banquet and dance in the opulent ballroom. The Fort Frances Times hailed it as “a testament to the town’s progress,” and eager crowds gathered to marvel at the cream, tan, and salmon brick façade, accented by white stone trim and a red-tiled roof. A wrought-iron balcony, ornamental stonework, and a petite tower crowned the structure.

The Fort Frances Museum is housed in one of the oldest buildings in the town, which dates back to 1898. It was first built as Scott Street School and served that function until 1914, when a bigger school was completed to educate the growing number of children in the town.
During the First World War it was used by the military as an encampment was set up behind the school by the 141st Bull Moose Battalion and 52nd Battalion between Scott and Church Streets.

Looking back down Scott Street, we see how quickly people in the community have taken to cars. It had only been a decade since cars became commonplace and popular. The building on the corner at the right, the Baeker Block, was completed in 1925 to house G.G. Baeker's drug store. Druggists and doctors like Baeker and Dr. Hugh W. Johnston were pillars of the community.
Johnston in particular has a fascinating story. A pharmacist-turned-physician, he bridged the gap between apothecary science and battlefield triage. After completing a pharmacy apprenticeship and a medical degree at the University of Toronto, Johnston heeded Fort Frances's desperate pleas for a physician in 1909. His practice paused in 1916 when he enlisted as a medical officer in the Canadian Expeditionary Force. He survived the war and returned in 1919 to resume his duties here.

Here we see the courthouse being constructed in 1913, to dispense justice across the recently established judicial district. It was an indicator of the town's growing prominence. One of the most sensational and trials in Canadian history was held here, the grisly case that became known as the Hot Stove Murder. It was a case that shocked the country and left its mark on Fort Frances.

This is the LaVerendrye Hospital, which opened in 1941 as a $120,000 symbol of modernity and faith on the banks of the Rainy River. Named for the 18th-century French explorer Pierre de LaVerendrye, whose expeditions had once threaded these waters, the hospital was proof that this remote corner of Ontario could now care for its own.

Here we see the steamer Kenora plying the Rainy River in 1899. The Stars and Stripes on the prow and Canadian Red Ensign on the stern illustrate the ties between Americans and Canadians that have long existed on the banks of the Rainy River.
Before 1912 Fort Frances and International Falls were connected by a rickety footbridge and the Rainy River, a little hourly ferry that charged $0.25 for passage ($0.50 after dark). Growing interest in Canada by American tourists—lured by tales of trophy walleye and unspoiled forests—was further fueled by completion of the International Bridge. When the bridge opened in 1912, celebrations lasted all day. Front Street’s hotels boomed, and outfitters like Lloyd & Watson armed tourists with gear for Rainy Lake adventures.
But proximity bred friction. In 1910, the Commercial Club of International Falls made an abortive attempt to annex Fort Frances. They started calling it “North International Falls,” and sent a marshal to plant U.S. flags on Canadian soil. The stunt collapsed when Fort Frances's old surveys proved the border lay 14 miles south of International Falls, giving the Canadians' a better claim to annexing International Falls. After that was pointed out the grumbling Americans dropped their annexationist rhetoric.

Here at Sorting Gap Marina we see the preserved logging tug Hallett, a ship with a long and storied history in Fort Frances.
On July 2, 1987, the retired logging tug Hallett found a new purpose—not on Rainy Lake, but beached at Point Park as a tourist attraction. The Hallett had been a workhorse for the Ontario & Minnesota Pulp and Paper Company until 1974, when trucks replaced the aging tugboats. As the Rainy River Chronicle noted, “The summer before last, the mighty Hallett towed 50,000 cords of pulp logs… and then… her era ended.” Dubbed the “queen of the Fort Frances logging fleet,” she once led a motley crew of smaller tugs, barges, and floating cookhouses that kept the mills fed.

This is a view taken from the water looking back towards the massive Shevlin-Clarke Mill—right where you are now standing. Opened in 1911, the mill operated for 30 years, employed thousands, and became the largest pine mill in Canada.
The industrial waterfront where log booms were floated as they awaited planing—the sorting gap—has today been transformed into a marina for pleasureboats, a change that symbolizes the changing face of Fort Frances.

Our last stop on this walking tour shows the more recent erection of another attraction at Sorting Gap Marina: the Lookout Tower. It was a rather unlikely symbol of progress: repurposed Cold War lookout tower.