was an ancient symbol for well-being and benediction in the form of a Greek cross, each arm bent at a right angle. In 1910, E.B. and his son, Fred, built the three-storey hotel in the Muskokas on a piece of land across from their mercantile business. He had three swastikas engraved in the brick exterior of the building. The property itself, facing Lake Muskoka, was a picturesque site. The land consisted of 23 acres and included riding trails for hotel guests. The train station was a short walk or buggyride away. E.B., quite aware of his agreement with Burgess in 1899, honoured the land deal by not allowing any alcohol to be served in his hotel. This agreement may be the reason the hotel later became haunted.
Guests enjoying amenities at the swastika, date unknown.
As the hotel neared completion, the Suttons began to prepare for a grand celebration, the likes of which Bala had never seen before. In his column E.B. noted, “Even the old folks who are supposed to take no stock in such frivolities were seen wandering home after daylight. Everything went as merry as a marriage bell. The music was supplied by five players and relays for the piano, and consisted of mandolin, guitar, violin and snare drum, an orchestra as unique as their music was fine. The Minett steam launch brought a contingent from Port Carling, while another craft brought the musicians from Bracebridge. There was just enough wax, and just enough spring from the floor, and the number of feet might be 30 score. Oh! What a time we had.”
Bala was entering the age of tourism, when families arrived for a week or more during the summer. Leisure time meant tennis, boating, fishing, horseback riding, or simply strolling along the shore of Lake Muskoka. Steamer service provided tourists with the opportunity to visit other parts of the Muskoka Lakes. It was an age of elegant relaxation.
Lillian Sutton (left) wearing a dress made from War Bonds.
In 1907 Rose and Ephraim left for a trip to England. During their stay E.B. visited British doctors who confirmed what he already suspected. He was diagnosed with what was then called “hardening of the arteries,” a condition which eventually would lead to his death.
In 1914, a summer holiday visitor to Bala became acquainted with Fred Sutton, the tall, dashing, young son of E.B., who operated the hotel with his father. All the evidence indicates that the Sutton family, who had lost their own daughters, were soon attached to this vivacious 20-year-old, Lillian Holden, who loved to dance and sing. E.B., a composer in
Lillian Holden before she became Mrs. Fred Sutton.
his own right (including seven published tunes) was charmed by her. He praised her as “the best of all jewels — a true woman” and presented her with a three-quarter size Stradivarius violin.
By now E.B. was using a cane, crippled with arthritis, and in need of increasing care from his son and his wife.
Lillian Holden and two unidentified friends, all are wearing matching outfits.
Shortly before Thanksgiving in 1916, Lillian and Fred announced their engagement. Their happiness was cut short on Thanksgiving weekend when Rose suffered a stroke while doing the family laundry. She staggered back to their living quarters and died 15 minutes later in E.B.’s arms. Fred and Lillian had little choice but to delay their wedding date to the following January.
Mrs. E.B. Sutton, probably around the turn of the twentieth century.
Lillian recalled a remarkable event in mid-August 1917, when she entered room 319, E.B.’s quarters. She discovered the sad shadow of a once-great and energetic man with tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve just been wondering whether I’ll ever see my Rose again.”
“I told him that of course he would,” recalled Lillian. “That didn’t seem to satisfy him because he said people just went into a deep sleep at death. So, trying to cheer him up, I said that if I died before he did I’d come back and give three loud knocks as a signal that I was on the other side. He seemed to perk up at that thought and said that he’d make the same promise to me.”
A few weeks later Ephraim Sutton passed away quietly in his sleep. The family laid his body in state in what was the dining room on the ground floor of the hotel, just beyond the main foyer. The first sign of unexplained activity occurred then.
Lillian and two lady friends from Bala were sitting in a room on the main floor when something quite mysterious happened. Lillian recalled it this way. “The time was 20 minutes past 2:00 p.m. — I know because I’d just glanced at the clock — when the three of us were startled by a bang on the front door. There was a pause, another bang, a pause, and a third and final bang. Then everything was silent except for people moving around trying to find out what had happened. There was not the slightest trace of wind outside, and Fred couldn’t find any sign of young people playing a prank. To this day I wonder whether E.B. returned in some way to give me that signal.”
Lillian and Fred Sutton continued to operate the hotel as a place for holidaying families. Despite changing times, they resisted suggestions to sell liquor to their patrons, thereby honouring E.B.’s agreement with Mr. Burgess.
As Hitler and the Nazi party rose to prominence in the 1930s, the name Swastika and the swastikas engraved on the exterior of the hotel became an obvious public relations problem. Hitler’s swastika, the reverse of the original design, had become a symbol of Arian supremacy and anti-Semitism. Heritage awards that hung in the lobby were trashed by local citizens and, the Suttons, sensitive to the feelings of Bala residents and customers alike, had the engraved swastikas cemented over and the name of the hotel changed to Sutton Manor in 1939. The war years brought fewer families to Sutton Manor and the Suttons decided to sell in 1943.
E.B.’s grandson, Lillian and Fred’s son, Bob Sutton, resided in the former Sutton General Store until 2011 when he passed on. Bob had spent the early part of his childhood growing up and working in his parents’ hotel. He was extremely proud of his family. His home told the story of the family: walls adorned with family portraits, old books, and artifacts. His heart was always full of memories. If his kindness and hospitality were any indication, the hotel must have been a warm and friendly place.
Although Bob was a young boy at the time his parents owned the hotel, he still remembered the staff saying “it was magic.” What they were referring to, of course, was a feeling that someone was there watching them work in the hotel. He confirmed that there was unexplained activity in the hotel in the 1930s and 1940s.
After his parents sold the hotel, it changed hands a few times and was variously known as Bala Bay, The Cranberry House, and the Bala Bay Inn. The successive owners felt no obligation to honour the original agreement between E.B. Sutton and Thomas Burgess. Once the hotel was sold and liquor was served, hauntings became a regular occurrence.
Tiffany and Ken Bol operated the hotel as the Bala Bay Inn from the 1990s to 2004. In the summer, rooms were available for guests and in winter only the restaurant was open. In all seasons they offered the same hospitality that was there with the Sutton family.
In 1996 I entered the front doors of the 32-room hotel. I could sense the history of the building. The first thing to catch my eye was the elaborate staircase leading from the main lobby to the second floor; a set of doors to the left led to a lounge with a central stone fireplace. Here, the Suttons entertained guests and held festive dances on Saturday nights. At the back of the hotel was the original dining room, where E.B. Sutton lay in state. On the right was the doorway to the bar where once there were rooms for rent. The back section of this bar area had been family quarters for the Suttons.
Tiffany and the staff openly shared their personal experiences with me. They agreed that “stuff”