In the heart of St. John's, a peculiar tradition has left an indelible mark on the city's streets, with some houses skipping the number 19. This isn't just a quirk of the city's numbering system; it's a fascinating glimpse into the local culture and history. Personally, I find this story incredibly intriguing, as it reveals a unique blend of humor, superstition, and community dynamics. What makes this tradition even more captivating is the unexpected connection to golf, a sport that might seem worlds away from the provincial capital's quirky past. In my opinion, this tale is a perfect example of how local traditions can be both quirky and deeply rooted in the community's history, often with a surprising twist. Let's delve into the story and explore the reasons behind this intriguing phenomenon.
The Smelliest Number
Number 19 holds a peculiar place in Newfoundland and Labrador's history. According to local tradition, it was once slang for an outdoor toilet, or outhouse. This association was so strong that some residents of St. John's refused to live in houses numbered 19. The story of Randy Cooper's grandfather, George Gulliver, is a testament to this. When Gulliver built his home on Smith Avenue in the 1940s, he was appalled to learn that his house number was 19. In his words, 'I can't have my house to be number 19! That's a shithouse number.' The city eventually relented, changing the number to 21, and Smith Avenue still skips the number 19 to this day.
This phenomenon isn't isolated to Smith Avenue. Older streets in St. John's, such as Morris Avenue and Cashin Avenue, also lack a number 19. The St. John's City Archives reveal that even more roads were missing this number in the 1920s, including Mullock Street, Cook Street, Gear Street, and Allan Square. On Cabot Street, the house between 17 and 21 was even numbered 17 ½, further emphasizing the reluctance to associate with the number 19.
A Golfing Origin?
The origins of this tradition are shrouded in mystery, but one theory connects it to golf. Professor Philip Hiscock of Memorial University believes that the term 'number 19' originated in an actual game of golf. Before golf courses became luxurious destinations with restaurants and bars (now known as the 19th Hole), they had an outhouse. This outhouse was called 'Number Nineteen,' and the term eventually made its way into the local slang.
Hiscock mapped St. John's streets that were missing the house number 19 and traced the earliest examples to the neighborhood around Golf Avenue. In 1896, the Newfoundland Golf Club opened its doors in a meadow known as Buckmaster's Field. The club had strict membership rules, limiting it to just 50 people (25 men and 25 women), all of whom were part of the urban elite. However, local boys were hired to work on the course as caddies, and a generation of children grew up in the area, absorbing the folklore that '19 equals shithouse.'
The 19th Hole and Beyond
The theory suggests that the term '19th hole' was used as slang for outhouse outside of Newfoundland, even if it wasn't recorded in writing. The Newfoundland Golf Club had only nine holes, and the first 18-hole course in the city was Bally Haly in the east end, which opened in 1908. However, the expression 'number 19' might have been in common use on 18-hole courses abroad, and golfers who had played elsewhere might have brought it to Buckmaster's Field.
As indoor plumbing spread across the province, the expression 'number 19' fell out of use. However, the term '19th hole' continued to have a 'feral life' in St. John's, among non-golfing people. This is one piece of slang that literally rewrote the map, as the city's streets were renumbered to avoid the number 19.
A Quirk of History and Culture
The story of houses skipping the number 19 is a fascinating blend of history, culture, and community dynamics. It reveals a unique sense of humor and superstition among the residents of St. John's. The connection to golf adds an unexpected layer of intrigue, showing how local traditions can be both quirky and deeply rooted in the community's history. From the outhouse to the 19th hole, the number 19 has left an indelible mark on the city's streets and its people's memories.
In my opinion, this story is a testament to the power of local traditions and the unexpected twists and turns of history. It invites us to explore the hidden corners of our communities and appreciate the unique stories that shape our world. So, the next time you're in St. John's, keep an eye out for houses numbered 17 and 21, and perhaps a whisper of the 'shithouse number' in the wind.
