Did Brother XII Leave Mason Jars Filled With Gold?
Even though he’s been dead for almost a century, one of British Columbia’s most infamous con men is back in the news.
In the 1920s, through his Aquarian Society, the spiky-bearded mystic Edward Arthur Wilson enriched himself at the expense of his deluded followers. —Dictionary of Canadian Biography photo
Edward Arthur Wilson, aka Brother XII, may be long gone but the legends of the religious cult he founded at Cedar-by-the-Sea (Cedar) and on DeCourcy in the 1920s, and of their tales of buried gold, black magic, slave labour, sadism, torture—even murder—live on.
The latest development is the advertised sale, for the second time in five years, of his DeCourcy Island acreage, described as his “headquarters”: 99.6 sylvan and waterfront acres for $2,795,000 CD.
“Spectacular largely undeveloped Farm on DeCourcy Island” reads the ad from Colliers Unique Properties. It’s yours for just $3 million!
Currently owned by press mogul David Black the historic property has been “getting lots of calls” according to Mark Lester of Colliers International. He attributes the widespread interest not just to the buoyant realty market but to the property’s exotic provenance.
I’ll leave the sales promotion to Mr. Lester (who needs no help from me, I’m sure) and tell you the fabulous story, in full, of the former professional mariner cum messiah who (mis)led his devoted and naive followers to a state of mental, physical and financial ruin. When he fled the country, just ahead of the police, leaving human and physical devastation in his wake, he and his whip-wielding mistress Madame Zee took with them a fortune in gold coins.
It’s the prospect that he didn’t have time to empty all his caches of their jars filled with $20 U.S. gold pieces that helps to keep his legend alive for many.
* * * * *
Residents of Victoria remember him as Edward Arthur Wilson but to followers of the bizarre—not to mention his many victims (some estimate as many as 8,000 persons)—this “little brown leaf of a man with a small spiky beard and hypnotic dark eyes that did strange things to you” will always be Brother XII.
Little is known of Wilson’s background beyond that which he told his followers, and much of this is suspect, to say the least. For, among his impressive claims, Wilson heralded himself as nothing less than the reincarnation of the Egyptian god Osiris!
But to start at the beginning: He first appeared on the local scene in 1910 when working as a clerk for the Dominion Express Co. A leading Victorian later recalled that Wilson had two interests: sailing and occultism. Then Wilson had moved on, achieving his master mariner’s ticket and sailing the seven seas. It was during this period, apparently, that he found time to marry, become an authority on eastern religions and, according to some, spend time in a monastery.
Wilson’s weird studies paid off for the former baggage clerk as, to hear him tell it, the gods were so impressed by the earthly student’s zeal and abilities that they taught him their divine secrets and elevated him to their immortal ranks.
Whatever skeptics might think of Wilson’s holy credentials, they couldn’t deny the five-foot mystic’s powers of persuasion. With ease, Wilson (or Brother XII by this time) established a devout following and emigrated to the promised land—the DeCourcy Islands near Nanaimo.
Here he set up his Aquarian Foundation, complete with board of governors, seven highly reputable men. To quote author Gwen Cash, who wrote in 1956: “Everything was open and above-board—strictly on the up and up. Earnest groups of young men and maidens studied occultism…scholars and housewives joined in debates. Money rolled in from all corners of the continent; some from Europe, too.”
But it’s not for the “above-board” activities of his misguided colony that Brother XII is immortalized in Pacific Northwest folklore. Trouble soon developed in paradise when Wilson openly misappropriated his disciples’ funds (one had to sign over all worldly goods in order to qualify), carrying on with a succession of mistresses, enforcing slave labour, starving out several followers no longer useful to him—more importantly, no longer solvent—and, to justify his own wandering from the holy path, issuing a decree of free love.
The outcome of all this was a bizarre courtroom scene in Nanaimo, with whispers of black magic that has itself become legendary.
This is where it really got exciting. Among those who rebelled against the Brother's actions was the Foundation's secretary, a former American secret service agent. Bob England laid a charge of misappropriation of funds against the errant guru, only to be arrested on Wilson's charge that he'd stolen almost $1000 from the Aquarian Foundation.
The whole mess came before Magistrate C.H. Beevor-Potts in a hot and stuffy Nanaimo courtroom in September 1928. Before a rapt audience of dissidents, loyalists and curious spectators, England's lawyer, the elderly T.P. Morton, was doing his best to establish his client's innocence at the preliminary hearing when he began to sway and appeared to be about to faint. It lasted but a moment or two before he was able to resume his examination, and that should have been the end of it.
Rather, it was just the beginning.
Beevor-Potts bound both accused over to stand trial. But at the fall assizes it became apparent that Morton's fainting spell had had a devastating effect upon England's case against Brother XII—England had disappeared.
Not one of the other Aquarian dissidents would pick up the case against their former leader. They were convinced, it turned out, that it was black magic; the charge against Wilson was stayed.
Affairs (in more ways than one as Brother XII had taken on a new mistress, the whip-carrying Mabel Skottowe, who preferred to be addresed as Madame Zee) carried on at the new colony for five more years. Then it was back to court because the master had banished 12 of his formerly most faithful followers, many of whose fortunes, long turned over to Wilson, had been reduced to serving the Foundation as common labourers.
B.C. Supreme Court Chief Justice Aulay M. Morrison. —Wikipedia
The lawsuit came before Chief Justice Aulay M. Morrison in the B.C. Supreme Court in April 1933. Wilson wasn't on hand but his former chief disciple, Roger Painter, was. As before, the issue of black magic arose; Painter (who'd seen the error of his ways) explained to the court how Brother XII had practised “mental murder”. Not by sticking pins in dolls but by using his psychic powers to sever an intended victim's “etheric body from his physical that he might die”.
Among those whom he'd turned his telepathic sights on were opposing lawyers and B.C.'s attorney-general!
The formerly wealthy Florida poultryman went on to explain at length how it was all done as he'd participated in the rituals with Wilson and Madame Zee. Essentially, they'd mentally project a target and, psychically, cut him to ribbons, thus severing the soul from the body which would “gradually become depleted and...die”. Painter offered no examples of successful severings, however, although Bob England's vanishing act remained unsolved.
This was all too much for the plaintiffs, Mary Connally and Alfred Barley and his wife. They were convinced that they, too, would become victim's of Brother XII's hoodooism if they continued their case. They'd have dropped it like a rock had not a remarkable newspaper reporter come to their rescue with a novel scheme to fight fire with fire...
Fortunately for the plaintiffs on that April day in 1933, covering the trial for his newspaper was Bruce A. (Pinky) McKelvie who'd listened in fascination as Painter described how an enemy designated by Brother XII would have his “etheric body” severed from his physical body through incantations and slashing motions which caused “the physical organism [to] gradually become depleted and...die.”
Thanks to the ingenious help of journalist B.A. McKelvie the former Aquarians mustered the courage to face Brother XII’s black magic in court. —Author’s Collection
This was all mumbo-jumbo to most of those who crowded the courtroom, of course.
But not to the deluded ex-Foundation members who'd given their hearts and their fortunes to a charlatan and who now—very nervously—were trying to regain through the justice system something of what they'd lost. It had been Mary Connally's money for the most part that Brother XII had used to purchase the five DeCourcey islands to form a spin-off colony after things went sour at Cedar-by-the-Sea after he'd banished 12 disciples including the now destitute Mary.
McKelvie had been following the Aquarians' antics for several years and was attending the trial; not just for the Victoria Colonist but at the personal invitation of Vic Harrison, an old friend who was representing Connally and the Barleys. Harrison told him that his clients, then living at Cedar with the other exiles, were deathly afraid of Brother XII's evil powers. McKelvie agreed to meet with them.
“So that is how I came to be at Cedar four days later,” he recalled years after. “I took my nephew, Neil, with me. When we arrived at the Foundation the disobedient 12 who would no longer obey the guru, were waiting for us. They took us into the large house that had been used as the headquarters centre.
“We were conducted into a big room. Two chairs were placed against a blank wall for us and 12 more were arranged in a semi-circle around them. We were seated, and then they started to tell us of the manner in which Brother XII and Madame Zee had been treating them,” all the while insisting that the religion was true, but that Brother XII was not himself, that he'd been taken over by “the powers of darkness”.
“He'd even tried to “kill Mary Connally with magic” just three days before but she'd escaped by spending the night with the Barleys. One of the men who took her place had “had to wrestle with the black influence” all through the night.
For all his years of experience as a frontline journalist, the worldly McKelvie was struck by their innocence, their sincerity and their obvious terror. He had an idea. “This is Egyptian magic, isn't it?” he asked, referring to Brother XII's claim to be the reincarnation of the Egyptian god Osiris. Yes,” replied Painter,” the most virulent kind.”
“Pooh!” said McKelvie, “You've forgotten the first principle of magic.”
“What's that?” they cried in unison, several of them springing to their feet—including nephew Neil who, bewildered by all this emotion and not sure where things were heading, grabbed the back of his chair as if ready to defend himself.
“I mean just what I say,” continued the adlibbing journalist. “Don't you know that where there is magic native to the soil, no foreign magic has any potency—and here you are living on one of the sacred grounds of the Cowichans; here they made their magic, here they made their medicine, here the young men went through their warrior tests—ye gods, the very ground is impregnated with magic! As long as you are here, nothing in the world can harm you!”
Never, wrote McKelvie, had he seen such a “simultaneous look of relief on 12 faces”.
Again and again and again they thanked him, pumping his hand as they showed him and Neil about the property, even allowing them to see the House of Mystery where Brother XII used to 'meditate' while, in reality, eavesdropping on his followers by means of hidden microphones.
When McKelvie, quite pleased with himself, and Neil drove off, they left 12 Aquarians ready, even eager, for the courtroom fray ahead. It would be a slam-dunk, thought the journalist; Brother XII was about to get his comeuppance.
His panicky friend Vic Harrison soon set him right on that score. On the big day, the despairing lawyer informed him that three of the plaintiffs had lost their nerve. “It's this damned Egyptian magic,” moaned Harrison. “They say that Wilson has...thrown a spell around the witness box, and if any of them steps into it, they'll die.”
McKelvie, back in town to cover the trial for the Colonist, and inspired by his earlier, albeit short-lived success, in psyching them up, asked Harrison if he could stall Chief Justice Morrison for 10 minutes. As Harrison headed for the judge's chambers, the portly Pinky dashed across the street to his room in the Malaspina Hotel, then, puffing heavily, returned to the courthouse and approached Roger Painter who'd become one of the rebels.
“See this, Roger?”
“Yes, what is it?”
McKelvie showed him a stone. Not an ordinary stone but a “double labret, or lip ornament worn by the women of the Queen Charlotte Islands [Haida Gwaii] when the whites first came to the Pacific Coast.” (McKelvie was noted for his collection of historical and aboriginal artifacts.)
“It's the greatest charm on the coast,”he assured Painter, having belonged to “the most famous of Haida medicine women. As long as you are in association with that, no power under heaven can hurt you.”
Suddenly filled with hope, Painter asked to borrow the charm. Heavens no, replied the cunning journalist, why, he'd as soon lose his life as lose that wonderful stone!
“Oh, lend it to me,” begged Painter.
“How long?”
“Just for this case.”
“Swear I'll get it back.”
“I swear.”
With a show of reluctance, McKelvie released the stone and Painter raced off to to join the others.
As the trial proceeded, each witness would take the oath and enter the box, the Haida labret clutched rightly in hand for protection against Brother XII's magic. To Harrison's delight they spoke clearly and firmly, even when being cross-examined by Brother XII's attorney.
Formerly wealthy Mary Connally, the primary plaintiff and a 62-year-old grandmother, told how she'd been virtually kidnapped from her Cedar cabin and dumped on the beach on Valdez with only a handful of her personal possessions. She'd had to live in a derelict shack under guard and had to work as a field hand —something she'd never done before—from dawn 'til dark. She'd lost 28 pounds as well as her fortune to Brother XII.As unfathomable as it may seem, her story was corroborated by other disillusioned (and, need it be said, deluded) Aquarians. Asked by His Lordship why they'd stood for such abuse, a disciple sadly replied that she didn't want her soul destroyed.
As unfathomable as it may seem, her story was corroborated by other disillusioned (and, need it be said, deluded) Aquarians. Asked by His Lordship why they'd stood for such abuse, a disciple sadly replied that she didn't want her soul destroyed.
Other testimony given during this trial has achieved the status of legend over the past 90 years. How Brother XII buried a fortune in gold coins in fruit jars and boxes about Valdez Island; how a female disciple who'd caught his eye lost her sanity, perhaps even her life, after she was abandoned on a lonely beach because her husband had gone to the police; how Madame Zee had driven them with whips.
Thanks to their new-found courage, the work of McKelvie's mighty rock, Mary Connally was awarded $26,000 (about what she'd put into the Foundation), $10,000 in damages and legal ownership of the Aquarian properties at Cedar and on Valdez Island. The Barleys walked out of the Nanaimo courtroom with a judgment entitling them to $14,000.
When provincial police at last investigated DeCourcy Island, they found Brother XII and Madame Zee gone—and no sign of his alleged hoards of gold. In a last fit of spite, Wilson had vandalized his mansion and dynamited his yacht.
The amazing case of the swindling swami ended—officially—with word that Wilson (or Julian Churton Skottowe, or Amiel de Valdes, as he’d also christened himself from the time to time) had died in Switzerland. Of his treasure, supposedly about half a million dollars, there appeared to be no trace. Or, for that matter, of the beloved Madame Zee.
In 1957 the occupant of Wilson’s former “Contemplation Cottage” at Cedar, south of Nanaimo, made a grim discovery in his attic.
The skull, according to the Mayo Clinic which examined it, was of “a woman about 25, who died about 1931”. Those familiar with the evil history of Brother XII’s Aquarian Foundation recalled that one of his mistresses had vanished mysteriously many years before. The records indicate she was about 25-years-old when she disappeared in 1931.
* * * * *
The weird story of Edward Arthur Wilson—Brother XII—seems too incredible to be true. But hundreds of bilked followers who’d placed their faith, and their funds, in his keeping ruefully testified that he was all too true.
Almost every time the infamous Brother XII makes the news, you’ll see this photo of the former Aquarian Society schoolhouse on DCourcy Island. Inscribed on an underground vault is the swindling swami’s final message: “For fools and traitors—nothing.”—Colliers Unique Properties
Which brings us to the matter of his treasure: All authorities are agreed that Wilson took his disciples for a bundle, arguing only as to the amount. This, of course, is impossible to determine. But a glance at the record confirms that his success as a swindler was nothing short of phenomenal.
In 1953 newspaperman McKelvie delivered a talk on the stranger than fiction activities of the short-lived Aquarian Foundation in which he was quoted as saying that Wilson had “bilked his followers out of hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“All this money,” McKelvie explained to an intent audience, “was converted into gold when possible, and if not gold then into one or two dollar bills.”
The gold was placed in jars, sealed with melted wax then the jars were placed inside wooden boxes. “It’s known that at least 43 of these boxes were constructed, said McKelvie. As to the fate of this treasure when Brother XII was forced to decamp, it was McKelvie’s belief that, “Before the police could act against him he succeeded in rendering useless all his boats, except the one he escaped in, smashed all his cabins and machinery on the island, and fled with all the money and his boxes of gold.”
Author, historian and retired deputy commissioner of the British Columbia Provincial Police, Cecil Clark once estimated Brother XII’s hoard to have been something less than half a million dollars.
To quote: “As Wilson continued to bank the individual freewill offerings (ranging occasionally between $10,000 and $20,000), he found himself the custodian of a hatful of money. Someone once figured it to be about $400,000.” Clark also mentioned that a later owner of the swami’s yacht, repaired after Wilson’s unsuccessful attempt to scuttle her, had a brainwave that the treasure, which was by then legendary, could be hidden in the vessel’s concrete ballast. He eagerly smashed the blocks open—but no gold.
Again, in 1964, Clark mused: “How much loot did Wilson duck out with?
“It’s a good question, and I put it to one of the faithful right after the event. He figured the island treasury once held about $400,000. One old chap called Barley, an English chemical engineer…claimed that Brother XII had him make about 40 cedar boxes to hold the cash, and told how they used to be moved periodically from one hiding place to another on the island, usually at dead of night. One thing is sure, there was a bundle of money, for some contributions ran as high as $10,000 from people who’d never seen him.”
At least two of Brother XII’s hiding places are known today. One, a vault built into the concrete floor of the colony’s school house, which had never known a pupil, is sealed by a concrete block with an iron ring. The underground safe was re-examined by Mr. Clark during a visit to DeCourcy Island in 1964. He found it empty. Another witness mentions its inscription: “For fools and traitors—nothing.”
John Oliphant, author of Brother XII: The Strange Odyssey of a 20th-Century Prophet, has spoken of having seen a second concrete vault—this one smashed open and empty.
Another writer believes Brother XII enjoyed his treasure in exile, leaving, upon his death, $250,000 “in a Swiss bank.”
And another researcher agrees with Mr. Clark, putting Brother XII’s fortune at $400,000 in one and two dollar bills and in “pure gold.” This author states that, when police searched the island for its vanished guru, they found “a great many holes where the jam jars of gold had been buried”. The number of jars he generously placed at—and I quote—10,000!
Yet another account of more recent years states that Wilson, as Julian Skottowe, died virtually penniless in Switzerland, the writer concluding, “What happened to his half million dollars in gold has never been discovered but it is felt that Mademe Zee, wherever she is, may have the answer to that question.”
All of which would suggest, rather conclusively, that Brother XII had a mint in $20 gold pieces and small bills, but successfully skipped the country with fortune intact. Did he in fact manage to take all of it with him?
Although the guru’s last, vicious act of dynamiting his colony would seem to indicate otherwise, a careful study of the evidence shows he and his wicked paramour were forced to leave in a hurry on his sea-going tug. And, contrary to some versions, he and Zee had finally run out of deluded followers. The party was over. If he did load all of his 40-odd boxes of golden preserves (the bulk and total weight of which can be imagined) on board the tug he did it with only Zee’s help.
Which brings up another point: the existence of two secret vaults is common knowledge today. Also, firsthand reports of Brother XII’s penchant for shifting his fortune about at night, and references to his burying it about the islands at several sites (note the plural) known only to himself (and, presumably, Madame Zee).
And, remember, the ill-starred Aquarian Foundation was scattered over several islands, comprising hundreds of acres, not just, at the end, Cortez Island.
Is it unreasonable to conclude that at least some of his vast hoard had to be left under such pressing circumstances?
In 1965 the provincial government acquired 60 acres on the southern half of DeCourcy Island as a new marine park. Considered to be “one of the finest spots in the Gulf Islands,” this popular tract, named Pirates Cove Park after the infamous messiah, is used extensively by Canadian and American yachtsmen vacationing in British Columbia.’s beautiful inland sea, the Strait of Georgia.
Hardly had the late Charles Lillard's The Devil of DeCourcy Island been published, he wrote in the Colonist in October 1990, than his telephone began to ring with calls from people praising or criticizing his book. Lillard had pooh-poohed the tales of Brother XII having amassed a fortune in gold that he buried about DeCourcy Island in Mason jars. One of the belated tips led him to an article in a 1938 magazine that he didn’t identify but from which he quoted: “Just before Brother XII left on his adventurous trip to England, he appeared mysteriously at the home of Mr. Barley [a disciple] and handed over a small but heavy parcel wrapped in a towel. Mr. Barley was admonished to take care of it, and it was accordingly put into a place of safety without further examination.
“Later on, Mr. Barley received a letter from the 'Brother' stating that the package contained gold, and instructed him to put it in a jam-jar, and to fill the jar with paraffin wax. A box was then to be made to hold the jar, and the whole lot to be sunk in the cistern of Brother XII's house. This was duly carried out.”
Lillard remained skeptical. But another phone call set him to wondering whether the legends of Brother XII's hidden treasure might be true after all. A woman who refused to identify herself said she’d known Aquarian disciple Mary Connally. She described her as “a lady and she told me that Brother XII had gold bars. Do you think Mary would lie to an 11-year-old child?”
Brother XII again made the news in 2017 when his former Cortez Island farm was sold to Victoria newspaper chain publisher David Black. Saying that he purchased the farm as a “vacation place” and to protect it from being developed, Black drove a hard bargain, paying $1.6 million for the property which had originally been listed at $2.19 million.
As a final clue to the existence of Brother XII’s hoard, I suggest Canada’s False Prophet, published by Simon and Schuster of Canada. Written by Herbert Emmerson Wilson, none other than the brother of Edward Arthur Wilson, this fascinating paperback documents Brother XII’s outrageous career from boyhood to death (not, according to this source, in Switzerland), and offers previously unpublished information.
If you’re impatient turn to the last page and read about a treasure buried in a lonely spot on a quiet island in British Columbia’s Strait of Georgia. You may find it rewarding!
The beautiful DeCourcy Island farm property with waterfront. —Colliers Unique Properties
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