The Chronicles Blog

So the late great B.C. historian B.A. McKelvie titled this manuscript, decades ago.

I just found it in my archives; I really must shuffle my files more often.

For those who don’t recognize his name, ‘Pinkie’ McKelvie was a leading provincial journalist and the foremost historian and writer of ‘popular’ B.C. history in the 1920s-’50s. He was gone when I, a kid, history buff and aspiring author/historian, discovered him during my first visit to the BC Archives while looking for such serious topics as lost treasures, shipwrecks, stagecoach robberies...

McKelvie had been there, done that, decades before me. Not only did he leave a legacy of his historical research and writings, he inspired me. He’d made a career of writing about our colourful past; why couldn’t I?

Sure, he’d had a day job as a senior reporter and editor in Vancouver and Victoria, but that was a mere detail and, millions and millions of words later, here we are!

Among the treasures in a large box of McKelvie’s personal papers—letters, documents, manuscripts and some photos—that the late family member Phyllis Bomford kindly gave me 15-20 years ago, are several typescripts that, so far as I know, have never been published.

I correct that in next week’s Chronicles with ‘Six Weeks of Death,” a rousing tale of shipwreck.

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PHOTO: Bruce and Mrs. McKelvie. —Courtesy Phyllis Bomford  

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April 1925 marked the highlight of a lifetime for 86-year-old prospector Bill Brown of Barkerville.

On his first visit ‘outside’ in 53 years, he saw his first moving picture show in Quesnel. “The actors and actresses were there on the stage,” Bill marvelled, “just as if they were there in real life, only they were not there at all.”

The guest of longtime Cariboo resident and historian Louis Labourdais, Brown said that he hadn’t realized such a thing was possible.

For more than half a century he’d been all but out of touch with the world beyond Barkerville and vicinity. Ever since his arrival in the spring of 1872, the six-foot tall, white-haired miner had picked and panned his living from the Cariboo’s once-rich gold creeks.

There have been 10s of 1000s of men like him in B.C.’s history.

Pioneers who, unknown to us today, helped to lay the foundation for those who followed. We’ll never know their stories, or even their names. But, every so often, one of them—in this case prospector Bill Brown—escapes obscurity if only momentariy from old newspaper clippings. 

Bill Brown’s story in next week’s BC Chronicles. 

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PHOTO: A group of “oldtimers” pose for posterity in Barkerville in 1907. Was Bill Brown one of them? —BC Archives 

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Back in 1861, the Crown Colony of British Columbia was hindered by a shortage of money of all types. 

At that time, the future Pacific province was supposed to be on the pound sterling of the Old Country. In reality, there was a shortage of coins and almost any coin of almost any realm was accepted if of gold or silver. 

After the discovery of gold in the Fraser River and the Cariboo, most newcomers to the colony were Americans who brought with them their own currency and coins. As well, Spanish dollars and currency issued by the Province of Canada (Upper and Lower) were legal tender throughout the colony.

The solution, thought Gov. James Douglas, was to standardize the colony’s monetary system by issuing currency and coin, and he issued an order-in-council authorizing $75,000 worth of British Columbia bills, and to establish the B.C. Mint and Assay office in New Westminster.  

The story of B.C.’s “lost” currency and its gold coins, now among the rarest and richest of collectibles, in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: The only two coins, 10 dollar and 20 dollar gold pieces, produced by the New Westminster Mint. —bankofcanadamuseum.ca  

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City Constable Alex Smith was at death’s door. It was New Year’s Day, 1896. Shot in the chest, he’d been rushed to Royal Jubilee Hospital where doctors announced that they could do little for him.

The bullet was lodged in his lung, surgery would kill him, and it was but a matter of time before he succumbed to hemorrhaging, blood poisoning or pneumonia.

As he lay dying, fellow officers of the Victoria Police Department realized they had a mystery on their hands.

The intriguing story behind this unsolved crime in next week’s British Columbia Chronicles.

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PHOTO: If Constable Smith died, his would be the third death in the line of duty for the Victoria Police Dept. —BC Archives

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Such it was called in a full-page story in the Vancouver Province in 1933.

A slight exaggeration, but a great story, all the same!

In this week’s feature story, guest writer Tom W. Parkin’s passing mention of the ‘Stolen Church’ sent me into my archives and there it is, the full story of this famous church-jacking that made newspaper headlines in its day. 

In next week’s Chronicles I let Charles Hayden tell you the tale of how Rufe Kimpton and fellow conspirators absconded with St. Peter’s Church, lock, stock and lectern, from the failing railway community of Donald, B.C.

That’s next week in the Chronicles.

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PHOTO: Revelstoke’s loss was Invermere’s gain—even though it had to be done illegally. —ColumbiaValley.com

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In February, Chronicles readers met guest columnist Tom W. Parkin (TW2 here at BCCs.ca) who wrote about hiking a stretch of the beleaguered E&N Railway. 

I’m pleased to say that he’ll be back next week with a photo feature on the little-known B.C. ghost town of Donald, a construction camp during the building of the CPR.

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PHOTO: The neglected Donald cemetery; what stories these weathered headstones can tell! —©Tom W. Parkin

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In the year and a-half since his arrival in Victoria, George Tomline Gordon had been appointed treasurer for the Crown Colony of Vancouver Island, elected the member for Esquimalt in the Legislative Assembly, and elected commanding officer of the No. 1 Company, Vancouver Island  Volunteer Rifle Corps. He had a beautiful wife, a large, loving family and a fine farm. 

But the knock on the door of Twin Oaks, the night before Christmas 1861, was not that of friends or carollers. It was Police Supt. Horace Smith with a warrant for Gordon's arrest. When, minutes later, sleigh bells rang for George Gordon, they were on Smith's horse-drawn paddy wagon.

That's next week on the BC Chronicles.

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PHOTO: Journalist and political enemy Amor De Cosmos soon found a way to get even for Gordon's having beaten him at the polls.

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Officially, the Second World War ended with Japan’s surrender, 80 years ago. In at least one sense, however, the war goes on.

Although no hostile action was fought on Canadian, let alone British Columbia soil, we too have a history of live ordnance turning up in the unlikeliest of places; at least thrice, it has killed.
As surprising as it may seem, as recently as in 2012 the Victoria Times Colonist felt compelled to editorialize on the need to “recover leftover bombs”.

The story of B.C.’s deadly war against live armaments and munitions from past wars in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: Bomb disposal expert Sergeant Rupert Frere checks the fuse on an unexploded 1000-pound bomb at a building site. — https://okok1111111111.blogspot.com/2015/03/bomb-disposal-expert.html

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If there is a single name that is synonymous with lost treasure in British Columbia that would have to be Neville Langrell (Bill) Barlee, school teacher, politician, entrepreneur, environmentalist, historian, writer, publisher, prospector and treasure hunter extraordinaire.

By all appearances, he scored at almost everything he did or touched.

Bill Barlee died in 2012 in his 80th year after a lengthy illness. But his legacy, on television re-runs and in the printed word, lives on.

Meet the man who spent the best of his adult years chasing (and finding) pots of gold at the end of rainbows in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: Bill Barlee, second from right, brothers and friends play at an abandoned mine in Rossland. What a childhood! —BC Archives 

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As told in last week’s Chronicles, Morris Moss was as colourful an adventurer as they come. Fur trader, mining speculator and customs officer, he survived shipwreck, at least one murder attempt, chased bootleggers, became embroiled in the aftermath of the Chilcotin War, was caught up in the Pelagic Sealing controversy, married, had two children, then— disappeared.

In short, never a dull moment for Morris Moss whose name became a household word throughout the province and particularly in Victoria.

Which explains the widespread interest in the mystery that surrounded his quiet departure from B.C. and reports of his death by misadventure below the border. Taken straight from the pages of the Colonist, it reads almost as a who-dun-it. 

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PHOTO: London-born, handsome and rich, Moss landed in British Columbia when only 20, drawn halfway around the world by reports of the fabulous gold strikes at Barkerville. —BC Archives

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We don’t cherish our heroes in Canada.

Oh, briefly perhaps, at the moment of their celebrity, but as the years pass so do they—into the mists of time and forgetfulness.

I can’t offer a better example than Morris Moss who once was described as “one of the most colourful figures this coast has ever seen”.

Morris who?

Let me tell you about one of the most remarkable British Columbian pioneers of all, Morris Moss—adventurer, fur trader, law officer, sealer, miner and synagogue president—in next week’s—repeat, this time for 100 percent guaranteed sure, or your money back—Chronicles.

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PHOTO: In American folklore Morris Moss would be a Davy Crockett. —BC Archives

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We don’t cherish our heroes in Canada.

Oh, briefly perhaps, at the moment of their celebrity, but as the years pass so do they—into the mists of time and forgetfulness. 

I can’t offer a better example than Morris Moss who once was described as “one of the most colourful figures this coast has ever seen”.

Morris who?

Let me tell you about one of the most remarkable British Columbian pioneers of all, Morris Moss—adventurer, fur trader, law officer, sealer, miner and synagogue president—in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: In American folklore Morris Moss would be a Davy Crockett. —BCA 

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Feuding Governors: The Grand Inquisitor versus the Monopolist.

Recent notice of this talk by acclaimed historian Barry Gough as one of the Marion Cumming Lecture Series hosted by the Oak Bay Heritage Foundation, reminded me yet another great story within a great story.

In this case, how the northern Deserter Islands near Port Hardy got their name.

Who did Gough mean by the Grand Inquisitor and the Monopolist? The reference to feuding governors gave it away for me: Richard Blanshard and James Douglas, the first and second governors of the Crown Colony of Vancouver Island.

The story within the story is that of the tragedy that precipitated Blanshard’s resignation after less than two years in office. That sad tale, and how the Deserter Islands got their name in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: Ill-starred Richard Blanshard’s governorship of Vancouver Island was doomed from the start. —B.C. Archives 

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Interest in the Bridge River Valley’s mineral potential dates all the way back to 1865 when a government-sponsored party reported having found gold in “that part of the country lying between the Chilcoaten and Bridge Rivers,” specifically on Cadwallader Creek on the South Fork of the Bridge River.

They were almost out of supplies by then but, determined to do the job right before turning back, Andrew Jamieson instructed his men to build two sluice-boxes and to “wash as much...dirt as possible in the short time we had at our disposal” while he and Cadwallader examined several other creeks in the immediate vicinity.

They detected colour almost everywhere they tried, as much as $9 from a three-foot layer of gravel. As their crude set-up undoubtedly had allowed even more gold to escape, Jamieson was impressed.

Yet it took three decades before miners again showed interest in the Bridge River country and what would prove to be one of the richest gold producing areas of British Columbia finally began to come into its own.

The colourful story of Bralorne in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: At the time this undated photo was taken, that ingot of Bralorne gold was valued at $30,000. —BC Government photo

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Last week, John Butts, defrocked after administering to the ‘spiritual’ needs of his ‘Congragational Church’ in more ways than one, was soon back in the clutches of the law.

This time, however, while serving yet another bootlegging sentence in the Bastion Square police barracks, word swept the city that he’d been found in his cell, stricken by paralysis, and doctors held out little hope for his recovery.

Victims of his slanderous spiels while he performed as town crier were relieved. But those who’d enjoyed his outrageous antics were crestfallen at the thought of losing the city’s most notorious character.

Next week in the Chronicles, the sad conclusion to the saga of John Butts, “town cryer to her Britannic Majesty”.

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PHOTO: John Butts, town crier who was said to be “a greater scourge than cholera or smallpox”. —Author’s Collection

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After tales of a disastrous shipwreck, a tragic love affair, and the evil Agnus MacVee, it’s time to lighten up a little! 

So, for a change of pace, a look at one of the most outrageous characters ever to set foot in Victoria.

Many of our pioneers could lay claim to being different. But, more than a century and a-half later, John Butts still stands out, head-and-shoulders, over his fellow eccentrics. In the words of an exasperated newspaper editor of the day, he was “a greater scourge than cholera or smallpox”!

Think about that for a moment.

You’ll meet the incredible and inimitable John Butts in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: Victoria artist Dean Lewis’ depiction of John Butts based upon contemporary descriptions. —Author’s Collection 

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As I admitted last week, too late did I realize I had the perfect play on the popular Spaghetti western movie title, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

But with a difference—women. 

By too late, I meant the correct sequence: I’d already led with Belle Castle, The Bad (in the sense she was a ‘fallen’ woman who redeemed herself too late for love). making Nellie Cashman, The Good, the second instalment by default. 

But now we’re back on track now with The Ugly. 

Chronicles readers familiar with this iconic movie will remember that Clint Eastwood was The Good (in name if not in fact), Eli Wallach (who stole the show in my opinion) was The Bad, and Lee Van Cleef (“the man with no eyes”) was The Ugly.

But back to the Chronicles: If Nell was The Good and Belle The Bad, that leaves Agnes as The Ugly. I’m withholding her full name so readers can’t Google her and steal my thunder. 

You can read all about her in next week’s Chronicles.

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This week is the sad story of Belle Castle, a fallen angel of the Cariboo.

Only after I’d committed to this schedule did I realize I had the perfect makings for a “Good, Bad and Ugly” series with a difference—women!

All three ladies had a strong Cariboo connection, all three fit the Spaghetti western prototype that made the good, the bad and ugly a cliche—but now it’s too late for me to correct the sequence. What to do?

The solution: It is what it is. For this week, “The Bad.” Next week, “The Good.” Then, two weeks from now, “The Ugly.”

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PHOTO: There weren’t very many women in the Cariboo gold fields in the early days other than dance hall—hurdy gurdy—girls. Lonely miners such as these often spent small fortunes to whirl them around a saloon dance floor. —BC Archives

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Her real name and where she came from, no one knew. But that she’d been beautiful and a lady, all were agreed. Upon her death in a lonely B.C. mining camp, forsaken by all but the man who loved her—and the rose tree she’d nurtured and cherished with a mother’s devotion—her secret went with her to the little cemetery on the hillside.

Today, even her grave site is unknown and the mystery of Belle Castle, as she called herself, remains safe with the ages.

That’s next week in the Chronicles.

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PHOTO: From around the world, they came to Cariboo in search of gold. A lucky few struck it rich; most had to settle for workman’s wages or return home, broke and disappointed. Single women had few choices other than to serve as cooks or hurdy gurdy (dancehall) girls. But all of them had stories to tell... —BC Archives

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I really wanted to begin the new year with more of an upbeat story. But...

I also didn’t want to do another shipwreck so soon after the S.S. M.G. Zalinski, either. But...

I was reminded of the poor Cowan during a recent visit to Ross Bay Cemetery where I noticed Capt. Thompson’s headstone.

The story of the four-masted steel sailing ship Janet Cowan suits this time of year as she was wrecked with loss off life at about the 19 kilometre mark of the West Coast Trail on New Year’s Day, 1895.

So...the sad story of the ill-fated Janet Cowan in next week’s Chronicles.

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PHOTO: Ships of sail had little chance if they strayed off course along Vancouver Island’s western shore which was long known as the ‘Graveyard of the Pacific,’ and for “a wreck for every mile”. —Cowichan Valley Citizen

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