Canada's 'Noble Experiment' was a Bust
Today’s so-called ‘war on drugs’ has an interesting parallel in history. In 1917, after a contested and controversial referendum, Prohibition was declared and, overnight, Canada Dry became more than a popular soft drink.
Officially, at any rate. In practice it was more a case of business as usual, despite the efforts of police.
An array of liquor stills seized in 1917. —Vancouver City Archives
There wasn’t a community in B.C., large or small, that wasn’t affected, that didn’t have its bootleggers, its stills, its ‘blind pigs,’ as 1000s of otherwise honest and law abiding citizens closed their eyes to the illegal booze around them or chose to actively engage in producing and selling it as a sideline, even as a full time business.
When all else failed, you could get a prescription ($2.00) from your doctor for a bottle of ‘medicine’ from the liquor store.
Ah, the good old days. What a shame they’re not making them any more.
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Canada’s flirtation with legislated temperance lasted only until 1920 when the Americans, obviously having learned nothing from our experiment with righteousness, launched their own Prohibition, a sour legacy of which was the enrichment and entrenchment of organized crime.
Ironically, we in British Columbia have gone to the other extreme—legalized liquor, gambling and marijuana. Some of our forefathers must be spinning in their graves. After all their efforts to police vice and keep society on the straight and narrow, here we are, with our own provincial government the biggest purveyor of booze and gambling in the business!
Which only goes to show how far we’ve come since November 1919, when the front-page headlines told of the busting of a Chemainus area farmer and a local drugstore for bootlegging.
First to face Magistrate Beevor Potts, in an evening court session, was R.H. Gardner, charged with having “an enormous quantity of fermented fruits on his farm”. He and his wife insisted that it was all meant for their pigs. Asked why so much feed for so few hogs, Mrs. Gardner testified that her husband had contemplated a trip of two or three weeks’ duration to Vancouver and the 150 gallons of liquified “pig’s food” was meant to tide the animals over until his return.
Suspicion seems to have come down on the Gardners over a period of five months after police learned of their purchasing 300 pounds of sugar for just two adults and one child. At first Mrs. Gardner denied knowledge of such quantities, then remembered having supplied some sugar to Japanese fishermen.
Next morning, a Ladysmith grocer named Tassin was called to the witness stand to identify a bill for sugar paid by the accused. He partially corroborated Mrs. Gardner’s story by saying that he was aware that some of the sugar was being resold to the Japanese.
Urquhart’s privately owned liquor store—this is pre-BC Liquor Board—in 1902-1907. Over a century later, you can still buy some of the same brands. Note the selection of cigars, something else that has fallen by the wayside over the years.—BC Archives
In summing up, Beevor Potts said that it was a “case entailing many curious features,” that he’d given both the prosecution and the defence considerable latitude. Nevertheless, it was clear to him that the evidence against Gardner, whom he’d known personally for years, had done business with him and “had always believed him to be upright in his dealings,” was overwhelming.
Rather than the maximum penalty of $500, he fined Gardner $300 or three months’ hard labour. And all liquor and liquor-making materials found on the Gardner property to be seized.
Drug merchants J.B. Hodgins Ltd. fared as poorly in court next day. Readers are reminded that, during Prohibition, one could get a bottle of government-dispensed booze with a doctor’s prescription–medicinal purposes only, you understand. This firm’s crime was that they’d followed a practice of accepting orders over the phone, not having them confirmed in writing by the doctor in question until after the fact.
One of the prescriptions in question had been issued by Dr. Lane who, rather than go to the trouble of submitting a new prescription, asked that the druggist reuse one which had already been made out and filled.
“Now this is a direct violation of the law by the doctor,” ruled Beevor Potts, “and renders the sale by the druggist who is party to this method of procedure an illegal sale.
“In other words, these acts taken together affect the bona fides of the prescription. How, therefore, can Hodgins Ltd., which is a party to this illegal method shelter itself on the strength of a prescription filled before the patient is personally seen by the doctor..?”
Beevor Potts continued: “Only one sale and only one delivery can lawfully be made on the same prescription to the patient for whom the liquor is prescribed... Here...there is evidence of different sales and deliveries to different persons to whom the prescriptions were given. There is substantial evidence of three illegal sales at least by Hodgins Ltd., on Oct. 3 last, of which no explanation is forthcoming.”
Although Hodgins claimed to know nothing of any such sales, laying full responsibility for unauthorized telephone orders on his assistant, the magistrate could “only come to one conclusion and that is that Hodgins Ltd. have wilfully violated Section 14 of the Prohibition Act which gives it special privileges in dispensing intoxicating liquor to invalids, and the acts of the employees are the acts of the company, as I think the surrounding circumstances point too clearly to the fact that Hodgins’ assistant was only carrying out the policy of the company with the full knowledge of J.B. Hodgins, the manager...”
Ergo, he fined the firm $1000. Hodgins left the courtroom, vowing to appeal.
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That ordinary and otherwise honest citizens should become embroiled in legalities as a result of Prohibition shouldn’t have come as a surprise to the government and police authorities of the day. The above cited case played out in, of all places, a Nanaimo courtroom—Nanaimo, a working man’s town long known for its many watering holes when liquor was licensed but legal.
In fact, when a Royal Commission investigating the sale of intoxicants and attendant problems had toured the country back in 1892, they were struck by the fact that the Hub City “had far more licensed premises than any place they had visited”.
Such is the way John Cass, Nanaimo’s late historian emeritus, put it some years ago. He also noted that the commissioners were “impressed with the way the city’s barkeepers, constables and magistrates dealt with those with a drinking problem”.
However, come Prohibition some 25 years later, the police were much less tolerant and John told a great yarn about a bootlegger known to the authorities as John X. Smith. For some time they were convinced that Smith was operating a still and selling whisky so good that some claimed that it rivalled that of legitimate distillers!
During the weeks that they’d had his rural property under surveillance, they’d noted that Smith never left home on Sundays. This meant, Customs and Excise Officer John Shaw was sure, that on the Sabbath, Smith, rather than resting, tended his still. Shaw and Chief Constable David Stephenson chose early Sunday morning, April 6, 1919 to strike.
With Constables Mustart and Russel, and a search warrant, they attempted to sneak up on Smith but were foiled by his barking dogs.
Casting aside further attempts at surprise, they charged forward. After a careful search of the property, they discovered a well-concealed still which they rated as having a daily production capacity of 25 gallons of whisky and 160 gallons of beer.
But Smith had flown the coop, having been warned of their approach by his ingenious alarm system. He’d posted four dogs about his property. By each dog’s bark he could tell from which direction the “revenooers” were coming from, and act accordingly.
A warrant was issued for his arrest. Smith surrendered to police a week later and stood before a Nanaimo magistrate to face the charges of illegally operating a still and having kept four loaded rifles on his property.
To the bootlegging charge, Smith pleaded guilty. But he flatly denied knowing anything about loaded guns. He had no idea how they came to be found on his property.
Cleared of the weapons charge but convicted of operating a still, he was fined $500 or six months in jail. John X. Smith chose to do the time and, upon release, disappeared from public record.
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Now, I don’t want to leave Chronicles readers with the impression that our forefathers were all scofflaws when it came to liquor. Prohibition’s greatest allies were women; particularly mothers with children who’d suffered when their husbands succumbed to alcohol, blowing their wages in the innumerable saloons and watering-holes to be found in almost every community of size.
Often on the B.C. frontier, a saloon was the first business to establish itself in a new township. Shown here is the barroom of the rustic New Hotel in Yahk, 1940. —BC Archives
Long before Prohibition, short-lived though it was, reared its head, there had been serious efforts to discourage alcohol consumption by promoting temperance. In January 1860, to give one example, public drunkenness had become so commonplace in Victoria that a public meeting sponsored by the newly-formed Dashaway Association attracted a large audience.
President J.A. McRea opened with a brief history of the movement, Maj. William Downie “said some telling things in reference to the importance of temperance and new countries,” and Rev. W. F. Clarke “entered with much fullness and force into the arguments sustaining” the association's principles. Other speakers expounded the evils of intemperance with such effect that an understated number of Victorians sought membership.
The constitution and bylaws of the Dashaway Association is a fascinating document: “In the presence of God and of all the persons here present as witness,” it begins, " we the undersigned do hereby solemnly pledge and agree to each other to abstain from any and all Intoxicating Drinks, (medicinal purposes excepted) in which case the necessity must be certified to by a Physician...”
A pledge was to remain in effect for six months; members who slipped would be drummed out of the association upon a majority vote of the membership.
Interestingly, Article V states that, as the Dashaways were a “Total Abstinence, Association, the subjects of Religion or Politics are strictly forbidden at its meetings”.
An investigating committee, state Section VII, would “receive and hear all charges against Members for violating the Pledge; and if upon examination they find such charges can be substantiated, they shall be preferred in writing to the Association for trial, and the member so accused shall be furnished with a copy thereof, that he may have an opportunity of defence.”
It was the sworn duty of every member to report any Dashaway who was suspected of having broken his pledge.
The ban on discussion of politics and religion at a meeting would also be enforced: a first offence would draw a reprimand from the chair, a second would result in a $5 fine, and a third offence would mean expulsion.
The “new order of Teetotallers” had it start that proceeding year in San Francisco, the Colonist reporting: “They ignore entirely the Pharisaical purity which characterized the old-line temperance societies but..,mix freely in all the drinking saloons, and by their practical example, are working an astonishing revolution among dram-drinkers.
“The order originated with five, who had been on a spree on Christmas and New Years, who with others to the number of 19, originated the Dashaway Club. Some of the religious papers speak doubtfully of its success owing to its not uniting religion with the movement. The name itself is attractive."
Women with families were the strongest opponents of alcohol sales and consumption. —www.pinterest.com
In spite of those who believed that temperance and religion were inextricably entwined, the Dashaway movement continued to grow.
Less than four months later, it reached outpost Victoria, and a classified advertisement in the Gazette announced a meeting on the premises of Auctioneer McRea, on the evening of Oct. 3, 1859. Dashaway Association No. 15, J,S. McRea, president, W.F. Clarke, secretary, was the result of this meeting.
“The Dashaways...deserve every encouragement,” declared the Colonist, November 20th. “Their charter only arrived the steamer before last, and now there are 25 members. The order is simply a temperance society, no secret signs, grips, or pass words. The members pledge themselves only for six months...”
The association opened a reading room on Wharf Street which offered the latest newspapers and periodicals, chess and other games to members and their friends.
By Christmas, the Victoria membership stood at 50, and was increasing daily; by late January 1860, the Dashaways had extended their influence as far as Hill's Bar on the Fraser River, where a number of minors pledged themselves until November 1st.
The Victoria chapter had also broadened its appeal to the community by adding a gymnasium to its reading room. For an initiation fee of $1.50 a month, members could enjoy “the privileges of letting liquor alone, reading a good assortment of papers, and tumbling to [their] heart[‘s] content on the bars and &c., etc.”
The Dashaways ' success prompted a full-length editorial in the New Westminster Times: “... We can but admit that there were many, even in our small community, who were fast hurrying themselves into a premature grave through an inordinate use of intoxicating ‘drinks’.”
Happily, however, many of these unfortunates had been quote rescued from “the jaws of destruction” by the Dashaway Association.
Their success, thought the Times, resulted from their disavowal of religious principles and their limiting of pledges of abstinence to six months, rather than asking members to forsake all alcoholic beverages for life as did other temperance movements, as well as their emphasis on diversionary pursuits, such as reading and sports.
Consequently, a man who “experience[ed] a....rational enjoyment from the amusement and recreation offered to him by a constant attendance at the Dashaway hall and meetings, will probably hesitate ere he again enters upon a life of dissipation which will re-plunge him into the depths of degradation from which this excellent institution may have rescued him...”
The Times recommended the Dashaways to all who felt threatened by demon drink:
The Royal City newspaper certainly had high hopes: “....We can see the possibility of the eventual extermination of this vice from our midst, and place our confidence in the means whereby the Dashaways seek to gain support, having more faith in the practical morality of abstract ideas, than of commonplace ideas without them.
“The difficult, and almost impossible ends advocated by ordinary temperance associations are definitely most valuable; but easy ones judiciously selected, prepare the way for the ultimate accomplishment, and therefore are worthy of the support of the moral public..."
By this time the Dashaways mustered 5000 members in California and apparently were expanding throughout British Columbia.
Then, almost as suddenly as they appeared on the provincial scene, they were—gone. Less than two years after their arrival in Victoria, they made their last notice in the Colonist with the announcement that a second branch of the San Francisco Association was being formed in the B.C. capital.
Did this indicate that the first chapter had fallen by the wayside—or off the wagon?
Stateside, the Dashaway Association lasted all of 15 years when it fell victim to the economic times and, of all things, general society’s increasing inclination towards temperance.
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Today, of course, we don’t need a doctor’s prescriptions to have our medications filled at the government liquor store. They’ve cut out the middle man!
