April 1918. No one knew it but the First World War, the worst yet in history, had six more months to go. This was a matter of great interest to Cowichan Valley residents because Duncan had the highest enlistment per capita in all of Canada.
That’s when the Duncan Board of Trade (the Chamber of Commerce of its day) chose to publish a small pamphlet on Valley industries and enterprises. Not for investors or tourists as would normally be the case, but for the edification of local men who were serving in the trenches.
I’ve already dealt with the subsequent careers, at least so far as can be determined at this late date, of three of the principals. By all indications banker A.D. Macdonald was financially ruined and had to work for a living for the rest of his life; clerk/bookkeeper Josiah Barnett whose subsequent release after his arrest on the vaguest of suspicion said it all; and Manager John Waddell who, within three years of the robbery popped up in Ontario as the owner of several sawmills and a yacht.
Read MoreSo: who did rob Macdonald’s Bank in the early hours of September 23, 1864?
How did the thief or thieves know of the $30,000 in gold, silver and banknotes (the equivalent of $900,000 in today’s dollars) that was being kept overnight before shipment to the Cariboo in the morning?
The brazen theft had to have been planned, as evidenced by entry to the bank having been made by means of a ladder of the exact length required to descend from a skylight, and a key found on the floor that fit the safe lock.
“One of the last remaining links with Victoria’s perfect crime—a scandal that made headlines as far as San Francisco—has fallen to the wrecking crews of progress. A landmark for more than a century, imposing Springfield Manor of 633 Michigan Street, is being razed to make way for a 23-storey apartment building...”
Such was my lead-in, in March 1969, to the tragic story of Macdonald’s Bank and its mysterious robbery that has become one of Victoria’s most enduring legends.
Who’d have thought that COVID would bring with it, besides world-wide contagion, illness, death, financial devastation and workplace upheaval, the—return of the drive-in movie.
There was a time, way back in the 1950s, when drive-ins were the rage not just for what was showing on the screen but for what went on in the cars around you when the lights were turned down.
For almost a century, hundreds of witnesses have claimed to have seen B.C.’s fabled sea serpent, Cadborosaurus, better known as “Caddy,” frolicking in southern Vancouver Island waters.
Their sightings have inspired legends, jokes and, thanks to Victoria’s enterprising Chamber of Commerce, world-wide publicity.
This is the third and final instalment of an unidentified pioneer’s recollections of Cowichan Valley pioneers, most of whom he’d known personally, and of the dramatic changes he’d witnessed over his own lifetime.
To maintain its original flavour, I’ve kept editing to an almost non-existent minimum. To correct the misspellings and grammatical errors would take away much of its charm. Hence I’ve only interceded when I felt absolutely compelled to do so to maintain clarity.
This is the second instalment of an unidentified pioneer’s recollections of Cowichan Valley pioneers, most of whom he’d known personally, and of the dramatic changes he’d witnessed over his own lifetime.
To maintain its original flavour, I’ve kept editing to an almost non-existent minimum. To correct the misspellings and grammatical errors would take away much of its charm. Hence I’ve only interceded when I felt absolutely compelled to do so to maintain clarity.
I’ve long joked that I shuffle more paper in a working day than a civil servant.
That no longer really applies (to civil servants, I mean) since the arrival of the computer.
But nothing has really changed for me. Yes, I’ve computerized too, but I still work with paper—17 file cabinets’ worth. Which is the way I prefer to work and to archive the thousands of files I’ve been building over most of a lifetime.
I’ve never been able to quite believe in UFOs (flying saucers). Or Sasquatch. Or ghosts.
Mind you, I’ve wavered a few times, if only briefly; sometimes from reading or hearing particularly credible news reports or solid firsthand accounts of alleged sightings. Mostly, my skepticism has come closest to losing its resolve after
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