It’s a calling, for crying out loud
From accuracy of their garb to creativity to ethics, Ontario’s town criers take responsibilities seriously
Across the province, you’ll find a small group of men and women who spend their spare time dressing themselves in 18th-century British garb, writing proclamations and practicing proper annunciation. They’re the town criers of Ontario, and although their role is purely ceremonial, they take their responsibilities seriously.
Historically, town criers had a formal role: they would share announcements with their communities on behalf of royalty or politicians at a time when not everyone was literate. There are 41members of the Ontario Guild of Town Criers, according to the organization’s website. Toronto proper doesn’t have its own crier, but they are fixtures at community events in nearby locales such as Stouffville, Caledon, Barrie and Markham.
The Star’s Alison Shouldice spoke to John Webster of Markham and Steve Travers of Barrie to find out what it takes to be one of Ontario’s town criers. Get fitted for your uniform If you call it a “costume,” a town crier will correct you. They take their uniforms seriously, often having them made as historically accurate as possible. Webster had his $2,000 uniform designed by Markham’s historical society.
Most criers wear 18th-century English dress, including a tricorn hat and an elaborate red and white coat. To complete their uniform, they need an attention-getting device: a horn, a drum or the traditional bell. Be creative Travers says you’ll lose your audience if you write your cry too long. It’s safe to stick to less than 150 words. Most cries start with three chants of “oyez!” — which means “hear ye!”— followed by a script tailored to the event, which is often a grand opening, a holiday or a community festival.
“I always end with, ‘And god bless our great country, Canada,’ ” Travers says, although the exact wording can vary. “You have to be relatively creative.”
Don’t quit your day job Being a crier isn’t the most profitable gig. A cry at a corporate event can sometimes bring in money, but often it’s a free appearance.
Most who aren’t fully retired have a day job. Travers, 60, spends evenings working as a school custodian.
“You’re never going to get rich being a town crier,” he says.
Most criers have at least two appearances a month. Others, like Travers, are busier — he has up to two performances a week.
“For the most part, it’s a labour of love,” he says. “It’s your gift to your community.”
Follow the ethics code Thinking of performing your cry in another town? Think again.
The Ontario Guild of Town Criers has an ethics code that says this is a no-no: you shouldn’t perform in another crier’s territory without first asking permission. In neutral areas with no crier (such as Toronto), anyone can perform.
Criers must always be on their best behaviour. Since they traditionally represented the mayor or the roy- alty, Webster says, he has one rule: “If the mayor wouldn’t do it, I shouldn’t.” Travers follows a similar protocol.
“In uniform, we never say anything of an off-colour nature,” he says.
Prepare to compete Although crying is fun, it can also be competitive. There are both provincial and world crying competitions held every year.
In 2014, Kingston, Ont., hosted the World Invitational Town Crier Competition.
In Ontario, there are occasional “cry-offs,” when a few criers gather for an informal competition. Even though there are winners and losers, competition isn’t the number one priority.
“While we are competing with each other, we’re also helping each other,” Webster says. “If a town crier does something new and something different . . . I’ll take that idea, and I’d work on it in my own community.”
Don’t take yourself too seriously What makes a good crier?
It’s not just about projecting your voice.
“I think you need a twinkle in your eye,” Webster says.
“It’s a formal position, it’s a serious position, but you still have to entertain the public or they just don’t listen to you.”
Travers agrees that it’s more than just having a good set of lungs. Most town criers are a bit “out there,” he says.
“We’re all bananas — a nice crazy. We’re all incredibly eccentric. You have to be, for crying out loud.”