Editorially speaking…
Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! (Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye!)
Town criers, or just criers, go back a long—all the way back to the Roman Empire. In the centuries before newspapers, when few people were literate, they were an established social institution throughout Europe
Often uniformed in a red and gold coat, white breeches, black boots and a tricorne hat (think pirate), they’d stroll village and city streets, crying Oyez!
After clanging their bell, ringing a gong or blowing a horn to get everyone’s attention, they’d deliver royal or government proclamations, the latest news and, way ahead of their time, private advertisements and announcements. For these latter messages, of course, they were paid separate to their crier stipend.
In this Dickensian scene, a black-clad town crier is reading out the latest news to interested passersby.—Wikipedia by Charles Green - http://www.mutualart
Some of their duties seem more than quaint today, such as, in Germany, where the crier reminded the populace not to urinate or defecate in the river the day before water was drawn for brewing beer!
In England, the crier’s duties included announcing the opening and closing of salmon fishing season, escorting the destitute to the workhouse, installing minor convicted criminals in the stocks, and administering floggings. At public hangings it was the town crier who read out the sentence about to be inflicted, then cut the body down afterwards.
According to Wikipedia, we have these criers to thank for the term “posting a notice” and post office.
It’s interesting to note that the crier played such a vital role that he was considered to be a servant of the state and to harm him was nothing less than an act of treason. This, because from time to time he had to deliver unwelcome news, such as a tax increase, and his royal or municipal masters didn’t want him taking the heat.
Again, in England, the Ancient and Honourable Guild of Town Criers and Loyal Company of Town Criers continue to exist and royal proclamations such as the dissolution of parliament are still read out by an official and uniformed crier.
Even before criers came to the New World with the colonists, some American tribes had the equivalent; there’s record of 16th century criers in Spanish possessions in Central America and, closer to home, Halifax had them in the 1830s and ‘40s.
In short, John Butts’ appointing himself as Victoria’s town crier (a position reinvented in 1990) was quite in keeping with British tradition and Victoria was, of course, a very English outpost.
But, as we saw last week and in this week’s Chronicles, aside from the tricorne, the bell and a baritone voice, all similarity with his traditional role ended!
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Four years ago, Duncan City Council announced that the position of town crier, created in 1995, was to be discontinued. “Everything has its time,” Mayor Michelle Staples told the press, “and at this time, council has made the decision to retire the position of town crier.”
A City press release noted that Europeans brought town criers to North America and right into the early 20th century before the practice became “more symbolic”. In place of then-crier Ben Buss, Duncan chose to create “a new city ambassador role” to greet visitors and represent the City at events.
(It should be noted that Mr. Buss did more than greet visitors, the Times Colonist pointing out that he attended as many as 28 events every year and paid his own way on out-of-town trips to attend town crier competitions. In 2012, he “won in the category of best uniform” at an event in Anacortes, WA, and, three years later, won an award for “the most individual cry” in a competition in New Zealand.)
It mattered not. In response to the discovery of 100s of graves at residential school sites across the country, Duncan Council perceived a costumed anachronism such as a town crier as flying in the face of truth and reconciliation with First Nations.