Bowring Park: A Stroll Through Shadows and Light
Dedicated to my Grandmother
Bowring Park, nestled in the heart of St. John’s, Newfoundland, is more than just a picturesque urban oasis. It’s a place where the echoes of history mingle with the laughter of children and the quiet whispers of trees. But beneath its tranquil beauty lies a history threaded with shadows — tales of philanthropy, tragedy, and whispered secrets that make this park not just a symbol of the city’s heritage but also a repository of its darker past.
A Gift Born of Tragedy
The story of Bowring Park begins in 1911, with Sir Edgar Rennie Bowring, a prominent businessman and politician from one of Newfoundland’s most influential families. Sir Edgar gifted the land to the city as a way of commemorating his uncle, Charles R. Bowring. The Bowring family had amassed their fortune through their international mercantile business, but like many such families, their wealth was built on the backs of sailors, laborers, and colonial exploits. While this gesture of philanthropy was celebrated as a benevolent act, the land’s acquisition had its own story.
The area that would become Bowring Park was once a farm owned by the Waterford family. Local lore suggests the family sold the land under financial duress, a move they would later regret as the park became a jewel of St. John’s. The whispers of resentment from the Waterford descendants lingered for decades, with some even suggesting that the park was cursed by their misfortune. Visitors have reported strange occurrences near the old Waterford farm boundary, though these tales are often dismissed as local superstition.
The Angel of Bowring Park
One of Bowring Park’s most iconic landmarks is the Caribou Monument, dedicated to the memory of the Newfoundland Regiment soldiers who perished during World War I. However, a lesser-known yet equally haunting monument is the statue of Peter Pan, which stands in honor of Betty Munn, a young girl who drowned in 1910. Betty’s death was a harrowing event for the community, and her family’s grief led to the commissioning of this ethereal statue.
Betty’s story adds a layer of sorrow to the park’s history. She was only five years old when she fell into the frigid waters of the Waterford River. Her death was ruled accidental, but over the years, speculation arose about the events leading to her drowning. Some whispered of neglect, while others hinted at something more sinister. The Peter Pan statue, while beautiful, is said to carry a chilling aura. On misty nights, some claim to hear a child’s laughter near the statue, only for it to fade into the sound of running water.
Childhood Memories: A Grandmother’s Influence
As a child, my maternal grandmother often cared for me while my parents worked full-time jobs. She was an incredibly fascinating individual with a deep passion for history, libraries, and outdoor activities. One of our favorite pastimes was taking long walks through Bowring Park. We would explore for hours, taking in the aromas of the various trees, shrubs, and flowers. She had a list of less-visited areas that she adored, places where the beauty of the park seemed untouched by time.
I remember one occasion when we observed a brown rat gathering pinecones for winter storage. It was both unexpected and delightful, showcasing the park’s quieter, wilder side. We would also set up picnics in vacant meadows, where she shared fascinating stories about the park’s history. One particular meadow held special significance. She told me it was once the site of “Midstream,” the summer home of Sir Richard Squires, Newfoundland’s Prime Minister from 1919 to 1923 and again from 1928 to 1932. As we nibbled on tea sandwiches and cookies, she painted vivid pictures of how this now-vacant land had once been a bustling estate.
At the entrance to this meadow was a treasure we cherished: a stone wishing well. Known today as the Sir Richard Squires Well, it was far less popular in those days, making it our secret escape. During autumn, the gray stone stood out beautifully against a carpet of red, orange, and brown leaves. My grandmother’s tales of the wishing well’s magic, combined with the area’s historical significance, left an indelible mark on my childhood. Decades later, the well remains a favorite spot, steeped in nostalgia and mystery.
The Sir Richard Squires Well is one of the enduring remnants of “Midstream,” Prime Minister Richard Squires’ summer residence. Built in 1914 and originally called Cherry Lodge, the estate spanned 55 acres, complete with a farm where the Squires family grew vegetables. Although the house was demolished in the early 1970s, the wishing well remains, earning the nickname “Witch’s Well” among locals.
Nearby, the area features heritage species of trees and plants, surveyed by MUN Botanical Gardens. These remnants, along with the amphitheater and fountain pond, offer glimpses into the estate’s former grandeur. Storyboards detailing this history could add even more depth to the park’s narrative, preserving its layered past for future generations.
A Playground for the Elite
When the park officially opened in 1914, it was intended as a space for all citizens of St. John’s, but in its early years, Bowring Park was frequented predominantly by the city’s elite. The manicured gardens, elegant duck pond, and walking trails were designed to reflect European ideals of leisure and refinement. However, this exclusivity came at a cost. Working-class residents often felt unwelcome, their presence scrutinized by park officials and upper-class patrons.
In the 1920s, reports surfaced of security guards escorting children of laborers off the premises for “rowdy behavior,” a term that became code for class discrimination. It wasn’t until the mid-20th century that the park truly became a public space, though its reputation as a playground for the wealthy left a lingering bitterness.
The Waterford River’s Dark Side
The Waterford River, which meanders through the park, has been both a source of beauty and a site of tragedy. Over the years, several drownings have occurred in its deceptively calm waters. The river’s dark history includes tales of despair, with local legends speaking of those who sought solace in its depths. Some of these stories have been documented, while others remain the stuff of folklore.
One particularly chilling account involves a young woman in the 1930s who was found near the riverbank under mysterious circumstances. Official reports declared her death a suicide, but her family insisted she was murdered. Her restless spirit is said to haunt the trails along the water, her figure glimpsed by night joggers who describe a woman in period clothing vanishing into the mist.
Positives and Community Impact
Bowring Park is not just a repository of eerie tales; it’s also a vibrant community hub that has brought joy to generations of residents and visitors. The park’s lush gardens and sprawling green spaces provide a perfect backdrop for picnics, family outings, and quiet moments of reflection. The iconic duck pond, alive with colorful waterfowl, remains a favorite spot for children and photographers alike.
On platforms like Reddit, locals and visitors often share their fond memories of the park, from magical winter walks under twinkling lights to summertime concerts and festivals that bring the community together. Many Reddit threads highlight the park’s role in fostering a sense of belonging, with users describing it as a “bucket list” destination for anyone visiting St. John’s.
Nature’s Redemption
Despite its somber undercurrents, Bowring Park remains a sanctuary for residents and visitors alike. The park’s natural beauty, enhanced by carefully maintained gardens and walking paths, is a testament to the resilience of St. John’s community. Seasonal activities, such as the enchanting Christmas light displays and the annual tulip bloom, ensure the park continues to be a source of wonder and celebration.
The Bowring family’s gift, while imperfect in its origins, has provided generations with a space to connect with nature, reflect, and find joy. Today, Bowring Park is a cherished symbol of St. John’s—a living chronicle where every rustling leaf and flowing stream carries a story, waiting to be discovered by those willing to listen.
