Troubleshooter Morris Moss Fought Murderers, Bootleggers
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.
In American folklore Morris Moss would be a Davy Crockett. —BCA
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?
* * * * *
London-born, handsome, rich and Jewish, Moss landed in British Columbia when only 20, drawn halfway around the world by reports of the fabulous gold strikes at Barkerville.
Among the 1000s drawn to B.C. by the lure of the Cariboo gold diggings was a young Morris Moss who took to the wild frontier like a duck to water. —BC Archives
But he soon realized that there was more to mining than gold; in the earliest dated letter in possession of the BC Archives, addressed to A.N. Birch, Esq., Moss stated his intention to head “an expedition to Dean's Channel to explore a copper lead discovered sometime since by myself & party...” and requested that that official “hold over my mining privilege in that section until my return...”
Four months after, Moss wrote Governor Sir James Douglas from Bella Coola, having changed vocation from that of miner to merchant, and referred to a subject of considerably greater import than either occupation: murder.
In this letter, dated July 19, 1863, Moss expresses his concern for several murders which had occurred in that vicinity, reminding Douglas that “no notice” had been taken to his earlier “petition”. However, he noted quickly, “I am fully aware it is not from any indifference on the part of your Excellency, well knowing how you have been similarly employed in the more immediate neighbourhood of Victoria.”
In a postscript, Moss related an incident of a week earlier when he’d freea a White man “after some trouble”. According to the miner, he and three companions had been en route from Stikine River in a canoe when a sudden encounter with Indians had frightened them. They’d panicked and hurried ashore, where one of them fired and wounded one of the Natives who, acting with admirable restraint, permitted them to proceed after the assailant fled into the trees.
Days later, hungry and cold, he was captured and taken to Bella Coola where Moss, after some argument, had persuaded them to release him into his custody. Moss thought it necessary to inform Douglas of the incident lest it be reported to Victoria that the man had been murdered.
His Excellency acknowledged receipt of the letter, noting, “My thanks to Mr. Moss for such valuable information. A ship of war will be sent to Bentinck Arm in the course of the season and a magistrate will be appointed when necessary,” the governor’s secretary, A.G. Young, informed Moss.
Within months, Moss had problems of his own, it being reported, in February of the following year, that his schooner, the Rose Newman, had been wrecked in Queen Charlotte Sound during a snowstorm. According to the first reports, Moss, the captain and crew had evacuated without injury, but the schooner and her cargo were a total loss. The next day, it was learned that the Newman, fully loaded, had been heading for Bentinck Arm when the storm carried away her mainsail and drove her onto the rocks where she soon broke up. Fortunately, $500 worth of cargo had been salvaged.
When next Moss was in the news, it was again as the bearer of grim tidings: he informed the Colonist, upon his arrival from New Westminster, of the murder of a party of Whites by ‘Chilkoot Indians’ (Tsilqot’in).
This was the famous Chilcotin Uprising when the murders of Alfred Waddington’s road crews threw all of B.C. into a panic at the thought of a full-scale Indigenous rebellion, and the colonial government responded by dispatching men, munitions and warships to Bentinck Arm.
A contemporary artist’s conception of one of the suspected Tsilqot’in ringleaders evading capture during the intensive manhunt that followed the massacre of Waddington’s road crews. —Atlas Obscura (Free Domain)
As an agent for the government, Moss’ role in the affair is confusing. Road builder Alfred Waddington bitterly criticized him months afterwards for having permitted one of the alleged ringleaders to go free after meeting him on the trail. After outlining the events leading up to the murders, and naming a chieftain named Anaghim [Anahim] as one of the conspirators, Waddington termed the tragedy “the foulest massacre that has stained the annals of British North America for many years”.
But it was at Morris Moss that Waddington directed his anger, charging that, when one of the party made to arrest Anahim, Moss ordered him released and, “after some parlaying Anaghim promised to bring back eight of the horses taken from Macdonald's party, provided Mr. Moss would ‘cultus potlach’ [make a handsome present] and guarantee that he would give him a paper for Mr. Brew [Colonial Chief of Police Chief Chartres Brew] to let him go ‘scot free.’ All of which Mr Moss promised and fulfilled.”
A week after, protested Waddington, Anahim showed his letter from Moss and traded four stolen horses for powder, clothing and whisky, and promised to “try and catch a part of the remaining murderers in the course of next year”.
Pioneer visionary Alfred Waddington, whose shortcut to the Cariboo ended in the slaughter of his road crews, denounced Moss for not having arrested Chief Anaghim. —Wikipedia
Worse, Waddingington implied that Moss wasn’t only profiteering by demanding cash in advance for provisions supplied to members of the police expedition, but that the trader was bartering privately with the Tsilqot’in for materials stolen during the uprising. He also alluded to a store of flour and pork, owned by the government, which had vanished while under Moss’ care.
Upon reading Waddington’s charges, Moss wrote the Colonist that the engineer’s letter “contains so many false statements, chiefly in relation to myself, that I trust you will grant me to contradict them in your columns. “Mr. Waddington gives an account of my meeting Anaghim...and my...making a bargain with him and giving him a ‘paper,’ allowing him to go ‘scot free,’ provided he would bring in the horses.
“The first and only time I saw Anaghim this year was at Stewi [20 miles from where Waddington said they met]. He came accompanied by 17 Indians, all well armed. He brought the horses at the same time. No one attempted to arrest him, as Mr. Waddington stated, and considering his party numbered three to our one, it would have been rather a hazardous undertaking.”
The paper to which Washington referred had been no more than an introduction for Anahim to present to Brew; he denied having traded stolen horses with Anahim, and he denied “in toto the insinuation regarding both my trading and storing goods”. He said that he’d given the government a “written detailed account of all my proceeding [sic],” and proffered a receipt for two barrels of flour, 350 pounds of salt pork and 250 pounds of beans, which was signed by Lieut. Cmdr. Verney, RN.
Noting that Waddington had refused to name his informants, Moss proceeded to defend Anahim, noting that he was only suspected of having being involved in the slayings, that “four white men residing at Bentinck Arm can swear that the chieftain was at the settlement at the time of the murders”.
But Waddington wasn't satisfied, stating he’d been informed by “four reliable parties, of whom more than one [is an] eyewitness, and that I consider their testimony as quite equal to that or Mr Moss."
He conceded only that he could have been mistaken in the number of men he’d stated as accompanying Anahim at the meeting with Moss. He reiterated that the Tsilqot’in had been given whisky, and sneered at Moss’ receipt for the controversial supplies: “two barrels of flour, some pork and beans...a very small part of some 10 tons of goods”.
Two of Moss’ own men, he charged, had threatened to expose Moss for having misappropriated the provisions.
As for Moss’ defence of Anahim, Waddington argued that the possession of goods stolen from the slain construction crew was ample proof of the chieftain’s complicity, that he was “an abettor of murderers, this highway robber, who had 12 horses and seven horseloads of spoil for his share,” that Moss should have arrested him, having had the opportunity to do so not once but twice.
(It should be noted that Anahim had cooperated with the police expedition to the point that many of his own people accused him of treason.)
For all of Waddington’s accusations, the colonial government seems to have had the highest confidence in Moss, repaying him, two months after, the $380 he’d expended in recovering the stolen horses. Earlier, Chartres Brew had written the colonial secretary on Moss’ behalf, stating that Moss couldn’t afford to lose the money involved.
“He was of great service to us on the [police] expedition as your Excellency is well aware, and I should be sorry if he came out of the business so large a loser which I know he can barely afford. I would therefore ask your Excellency permission to return to him the $380 which he paid for the horses. It may set him on his legs though he will still be out of pocket and the sum will only be a drop in the bucket of [Colonial] expenses.
“It is quite certain that if Mr. Moss had not gone for the horses they would be by this time food for the wolves as it was seven of them up to this time are dead.”
“I trust your Excellency will pardon me for making this suggestion but I am encouraged to do so from feeling that your Excellency is generously disposed towards all concerned in the [police and military] campaign and would not willingly let anyone be a sufferer by it.”
In due course, the secretary endorsed Brew’s request for the rebate and remarked that “Mr. Moss behaved uncommonly well.”
In the meantime, Moss had no sooner become disentangled from the Chilcotin uprising than headlines announced the brutal murder of Bella Coola customs officer Jack Ogilvie, and outlined the active role Moss had played in this latest tragedy.
The night before, the Hudson’s Bay Co. steamer Labouchere had arrived from the north with a large passenger list and cargo. Capt. Lewis also brought intelligence of “the melancholy death of Mr. Ogilvie,” reporting that, two months before, a renegade name Antoine Lucanage had landed at Bella Coola with three kegs of liquor in his canoe. As Lucanage lacked a permit, Ogilvie seized both Lucanage and liquor, placing the former aboard the steamer Nanaimo Packet, to be taken to New Westminster for trial.
But Lucanage had escaped from the Packet and flagged down the northbound schooner Langley, which obligingly dropped him off—at Bella Coola—where the fugitive announced it as being his intention to head for the Cariboo. Ogilvie thought otherwise: that the bootlegger was merely hiding in the woods until the schooner’s southbound trip when he planned to sneak back onboard.
On April 11th, the Langley headed down Bentinck Arm against a stiff headwind.
Four hours later, Ogilvie, Moss, a man named Smith and four canoemen paddled in pursuit, overtaking the labouring vessel late that night. Her master assured them that Lucanage wasn’t on board, that he hadn’t seen him since he left the schooner at Bella Cooler on the northbound run.
When they accepted his invitation to go below for dinner while he went forward to light a fire for tea, Ogilvie volunteered to assist. The captain was just firing the stove, Ogilvie sitting alongside, when Lucanage, who’d hidden himself in a fo’c’sle locker, fired point-blank at the unsuspecting Customs officer.
Hearing the shot, Moss and Smith, who’d remained in the main cabin, rushed topside where the mortally wounded Ogilvie told them that Lucanage had shot him, then collapsed onto the deck and asked for a drink of water.
By this time, Capt. Lewis, according to the report, charged on deck “in a fearful state of excitement, and did not appear to know what he was doing. Mr. Moss asked him for a lantern to go down and seize Llucanage, but he said there was none on board. He was then told to put the schooner about and run her back to Bella Coola, but not doing so at once, Mr. Moss went aft for that purpose, leaving Mr. Smith to attend to Mr. Ogilvie.”
No sooner had Moss headed aft than Lucanage rushed on deck and, taking Smith by surprise, stabbed him twice, then turned upon the dying Ogilvie who, with his remaining strength, wrested the gun from Lucanage's hand. At this, his attacker hastened down the companionway, Ogilvie speeding his retreat with two shots.
Astern, Moss had heard the commotion and, seeing Lucange, raised his own gun to fire when the arching boom knocked him over the side, where he was rescued by the canoemen who’d abandoned ship at the first shot.
On board the schooner, Capt. Lewis and his mate assisted the wounded men below, ignoring Lucanage who seized the opportunity to escape in the ship's boat. Rushing topside, Lewis fired four times but missed, then shouted to Moss, who was in the retreating canoe and too far off to hear him.
The next day, Moss returned with reinforcements, Ogilvie breathing his last an hour later. His body was then returned to Bella Coola by canoe to await shipment to Victoria where Ogilvie had asked to be interred.
Lucanage, meanwhile, had vanished. But Moss had more pressing problems of his own, having to escort two prisoners to New Westminster. Two weeks after, he was appointed Customs officer in Ogilvie's place.
Upon receiving the appointment by Governor Frederick Seymour at Victoria, Moss headed northward by canoe, carrying two silver-mounted staffs to be granted to regional chiefs “to constitute a guarantee of the future good conduct of the recipients and their people..."
Colonial Governor Frederick Seymour enjoys a quiet moment in this posed photo. —BC Archives
Assigned the specific task of putting a stop to the smuggling and illegal sale of liquor, Moss’s first dispatch was a request for a four-months’ advance on his salary that he might purchase a large store of provisions. The newly appointed officer was pleading poverty due to the fact that he’d “incurred heavy expenses connected with the conviction of the Indian prisoners brought down [to New Westminster] by myself”.
For all of his efforts, the illegal liquor trade continue to flourish and foment further troubles and, by March 1866, he was transferred to Milbanke Sound so as to be—it was hoped—in a better position to battle the bootleggers. That May, he was able to report that he had “used every endeavour to stop the liquor traffic and had destroyed several petty lots”. With October, he claimed he’d barely averted war between the Bella Coolas and the Kimsquits over the kidnapping of a girl.
And so it went, completing one hazardous assignment after another—until February 1867 when his post was abolished in a cutback of government services.
“I do not complain of being dismissed as the office is mostly disagreeable & often dangerous,” Moss wrote his former superiors, “but I certainly expect pay for the last five months, as during the whole of that time I have acted as customs officer I made several disagreeable canoe trips... I must also inform you that I have had no other income but my salary during my term of office and my expenses have consumed the whole of this. I am now indebted to Captain Lewis of the Str. Otter [for] supplying me with provisions and other necessaries during the present year.”
The government responded with three months’ back pay. A further claim by Moss for half of the value [$35] of a shipment of furs which he’d accepted as bail was denied.
Moss went on to bigger and better things after his government service. The experience he’d gained along the rugged northern coast stood him in good stead as a fur dealer and investor. Married to a woman half his age in 1883 who bore him two children, he turned his attention to the booming mining region of Cassiar, then to Denver.
On February 29 1896, word was received that Moss had died in that Colorado city, the Victoria Daily Times noting the passing of a pioneer “well known and much respected for his mild and gentlemanly manner and kind disposition. Many a needy individual has reason to bless the name of Morris Moss.
“A Londoner by birth, and being the nephew of a London Banker named Morris, he was brought up in luxury and had the advantage of having been educated at the London University, which he left in 1862 to come to this province. Having a liberal sum of cash on arrival he fitted out a small craft with a large quantity of merchandise to trade on the west coast...but was wrecked on some island north of Vancouver Island and lost everything.
“Returning to Victoria about the time of the trouble with the Indians at Butte Inlet, he was requested to go on board of a man-of-war to act as a go-between among the Indians. He proved himself most successful in this capacity.
“Ultimately he went to Cassiar and established a business, where he remained for several years. On leaving that part of the country he engaged in business, principally in the fur trade in this city, being agent for Liebes & Co., of San Francisco. Mr. Moss was a most speculative man and invested large sums of money in both mining and sealing, with varied success. He left for Colorado a few years ago, was a past Grand Master of Vancouver and Quadra Lodge, A.F. & A.M.”
Today, Moss Passage, between lady Douglas and Dowager islands, and Moss Street in Victoria, vaguely recall this most remarkable of B.C. pioneers.
End of story—not.
Mystery surrounds Morris Moss’ departure from B.C., his reported death by misadventure, and his final years below the border. Taken straight from the pages of the Colonist, it reads almost as a who-dun-it. That’s next week in the Chronicles.
