On Saturday, August 11, 2018, the City of Victoria, British Columbia, removed a bronze statue of Canada’s First Prime Minster, Sir John A. Macdonald, from the grounds outside City Hall. According to Victoria’s Mayor Lisa Helps, the decision to remove the statue was part of the city’s ongoing reconciliation program with the local Esquimalt and Songhees First Nations. Sir John A. Macdonald, Helps explained, was one of the chief architects of Canada’s residential school system- an institution which resulted in the suffering of members of various First Nations, including the Esquimalt and the Songhees.
Helps’ decision to remove the statue has been roundly criticized by many who object to what they see as an attempt to erase Canadian history, and who maintain that it is irrational to judge figures from the past by today’s moral standards. Supporters of the decision, on the other hand, argue that the injustices that Macdonald inflicted upon the First Nations outweigh the contributions that the Father of Canadian Confederation made towards the betterment of the nation he helped found, thus justifying the removal of statues erected in his honour.
Many supporters of the decision to remove the statue might be surprised to learn that John A. Macdonald, despite his flaws, helped to save many of Canada’s First Nations from a terrible fate.
The Whisky Trade
In the mid 1800’s, the western Canadian plains were dominated by the powerful Blackfoot Confederacy, an alliance comprised of the Siksika, the Peigan, and the Kainai First Nations. The Blackfoot were a warlike people notorious for slaughtering trespassers who dared to venture into their territory. They were also great hunters who subsisted almost entirely upon the buffalo, which roamed the Great Plains in enormous herds.
In the 1840’s, the American Fur Company (AFC), a major American fur trading enterprise which competed with Canada’s Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC), expanded into the Upper Missouri region on the border of Blackfoot territory. In 1846, they established a fur trading post called Fort Benton on the banks of the Missouri River in northern Montana, in the heart of South Peigan territory. They began to trade with the Blackfoot on whose lands they encroached, selling muskets, steel tools, and wool blankets in exchange for buffalo robes. In a few short years, Fort Benton rose to become the economic centre of the Great Plains.
Similar to the Hudson’s Bay Company, one of the commodities that the AFC sold to its native customers was diluted liquor. Many of the South Peigan, as it turned out, had an enormous affinity for alcohol, and over time many of them were drawn into alcohol dependency. Cognisant of the negative effect that alcohol had upon their Blackfoot clients, the AFC was careful to limit its sale, but kept the commodity on its shelves in order to compete with the HBC.
By the 1860’s, the fur trade was in decline, and in 1865, the AFC sold Fort Benton to the U.S. Army. Almost immediately, a number of small fur trading companies formed to fill the vacuum. Unfortunately, many of these smaller companies cared far less about the welfare of their Blackfoot customers than the larger company that they replaced. In an effort to compete with one another, they exploited the Blackfoot’s proclivity for alcohol, selling enormous quantities of liquor to them without restraint. While the quantity of the alcohol these independent traders sold was greater than that of the AFC, its quality was often much worse. Instead of selling diluted rum or brandy, these traders peddled a cheap, dangerous concoction of American whiskey, red ink, turpentine, tobacco, and river water, sometimes supplemented with a dash of toxic strychnine.
The combination of dishonest business practices and a surfeit of whiskey bred the perfect environment for violent conflict, and in no time the whiskey traders and the Blackfoot were at each other’s throats. The many bloody altercations between white frontiersmen and South Peigan warriors that characterized Montana in the 1860’s were dubbed the “Blackfoot Wars”.
When a number of Montanan farmers were murdered by Blackfoot braves, the United States Army stepped in. Rather than resolve the conflict diplomatically, the U.S. Army decided to discipline the Blackfoot through violence. This heavy-handed approach was characteristic of the United States’ relationship with unruly or uncooperative American Indians; that same decade, the U.S. Army had fought bitterly with the Cheyenne, Arapaho, Sioux, and Apache Indians in what are collectively known today as the American Indian Wars. Ultimately, the U.S. Army’s involvement in the Blackfoot conflict culminated in the Marias Massacre of 1870, in which a U.S. Cavalry squadron slaughtered a band of 200 friendly South Peigan, most of them women, children, and elderly men, on the banks of the Marias River.
In order to avoid conflict with the U.S. Army, many South Peigan bands fled north into British territory, where they knew the blue-coated “Long Knives”, as they often called sabre-wearing U.S. Cavalrymen, would dare not follow. A handful of enterprising Montanan whiskey traders decided to follow their clients into Canada and establish trading posts across the border, in what is now Southern Alberta and Saskatchewan. Like their American precursors, the traffic of these so-called “whisky forts” had a devastating effect on the Blackfoot people, transforming a powerful Confederacy into a nation of starvelings and alcoholics who would do anything for a cup of firewater.
John A. Macdonald’s Response
Following Canadian Confederation in 1867, John A. Macdonald endeavoured to make Canada a great nation stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In order to accomplish this, he knew that he would have to convince the Province of British Columbia to accept the terms of the Canadian Constitution, and in order to do that, he would have to connect British Columbia with the easterly Dominion of Canada via a massive transcontinental railroad. In order to build this railroad, the Dominion of Canada would need to own the land in between British Columbia and the Dominion- a vast, wild territory controlled by the Hudson’s Bay Company, known for centuries as Rupert’s Land (present-day Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and the Northwest Territories). In 1870, Macdonald’s government, with the permission of the British Crown, purchased Rupert’s Land and dubbed it the
When John A. Macdonald learned of the American whisky trade that was taking place in the North-West Territory, he knew he had to put a stop to it in order to assert Canada’s sovereignty there. Throughout much of the 19th Century, the concept of Manifest Destiny- the idea that the United States was destined to expand across North America- had a strong influence on American foreign policy. The United States had acquired Louisiana from the French, Oregon from the British, Texas from the Mexicans, and Alaska from the Russians, and since the end of the American Civil War, had shown an interest in expanding the American Empire into Rupert’s Land. If Canada failed to assert its authority on this western frontier, the North-West Territory would almost certainly fall into the hands of the United States.
The Prime Minister knew that the only way to achieve this end would be to dispatch a force of mounted riflemen to the North-West Territory to quell the whisky trade. This force could not be strictly martial in nature, however; these riflemen would also have to contend with the powerful Blackfoot Confederacy on whose land they would encroach, and unlike the Americans, the fledgling Dominion of Canada could not afford to wage wars against hostile Indians. It was clear to John A. Macdonald and his Cabinet that the only way to combat the whisky trade, come to a peaceful arrangement with the Blackfoot Confederacy, and ultimately bring law and order to the Canadian west, thus paving the way for a transcontinental railroad, was by dispatching a force of mounted policemen to the western prairies. And thus the concept of the North West Mounted Police (NWMP) was born.
For several years, John A. Macdonald, who was notorious for his procrastination, delayed the formation of the NWMP, afraid that the Dominion of Canada was still unable to afford it. Finally, after receiving word of the Cypress Hills massacre, which saw scores of Canadian Assiniboine slaughtered at the hands of American wolfers, Macdonald authorized the formation of the North West Mounted Police.
The Early Accomplishments of the NWMP
In 1874, the North West Mounted Police rode from Manitoba to the southwestern edge of the North-West territories. There, through tact, courage, and candour, they brought an end to the whisky trade and established a good relationship with the local Blackfoot.
If it weren’t for John A. Macdonald, the North West Mounted Police would likely never have formed, and what is now Alberta, Saskatchewan, and much of Manitoba would probably have fallen into the hands of the United States. One can only speculate as to the tremendous damage the whisky trade would have wrought upon the Blackfoot people had it not been suppressed by the NWMP, and on the atrocities that would have occurred had the blue-coated troopers of the American Cavalry dealt with the Peoples of the Canadian Plains instead of the red-coated Mounties.
Considering all this, does the Father of Canadian Confederation deserve a second chance in the eyes of Canadians? Or does he deserve to have his statues torn down? Let us know in the comments below.
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How John A. Macdonald Helped the First Nations was last modified: August 25th, 2018 by Hammerson Peters
If you drive fifty minutes south from Peterborough, Ontario, you’ll come to the lively little town of Cobourg. Despite its relatively small size (or perhaps because of it), this Canadian town on the northern shores of Lake Ontario has an exceptionally vibrant community, the members of which seem to take enormous pride in its heritage. According to resident John Draper, “life in Cobourg is as near ideal as it can be. The town is small enough to be friendly and free of city problems yet large enough to have great entertainment and cultural activities as well as good stores.”
The crowning jewel of this quaint Ontario town is Victoria Hall, an impressive heritage building which dominates King Street, situated as it is two blocks north of Cobourg’s historic harbour. This 19th Century monument is home to a number of intriguing legends, including a rumour of an illicit Royal affair and two chilling ghost stories.
The Story of Victoria Hall
In order to set the stage for the legends of Victoria Hall, a little backstory is required.
The Rise of Cobourg, Ontario
The town of Cobourg, Ontario, in which our legends take place, was first founded in the wake of the American Revolution by United Empire Loyalists– American expatriates loyal to the British Crown. Due to its favourable location on Lake Ontario, Cobourg quickly grew into an important regional milling and manufacturing centre, its population bolstered by an influx of poor but hard-working Irish settlers.
By the mid-1800’s, many Cobourg residents believed that their town was destined to become one of Upper Canada’s most important cities. Their optimism was fuelled by the Grand Trunk Railway’s plan to build its mainline, which would connect Toronto with Montreal, through the town. In order to cement Cobourg’s fate as one of Upper Canada’s most prominent cities, the town’s citizens decided to build their own railway- the Cobourg and Peterborough Railroad- north to the town of Peterborough, transforming Cobourg into a regional transportation hub.
The Cobourg Peterborough Railroad
The Cobourg and Peterborough Railroad was completed on December 29, 1854, at significant cost to many of the townspeople. In an effort to compete with their neighbouring rival, the westerly town of Port Hope, the town council of Cobourg had insisted that the railway be built across Rice Lake- a long, three-mile-wide body of water that stood between Cobourg and Peterborough- rather than around it. To do otherwise would be to concede Port Hope’s geographic superiority, as a railway circumventing the lake would be much longer than a railroad from Port Hope to Peterborough, which would naturally skirt the lake’s western shores. As a result, the railwaymen had constructed a massive, three-mile-long wooden bridge across the lake- one of the most impressive engineering feats in North America at the time, and the largest contemporary trestle bridge in the world.
On New Years’ Day, 1855- three days after the railroad’s grand opening to the public- the bridge across Rice Lake shifted, its wooden supports unable to withstand the force of the expanding lake ice. The structure was quickly straightened, and for the next two years, underwent constant repairs as the train it supported routinely serviced the citizens of Cobourg.
The Construction of Victoria Hall
In 1856, when it seemed fairly certain that the railway was there to stay, Cobourg’s town council hired celebrated Toronto architect Kivas Tully (after he won a design competition they held) to design a grand civic building worthy of Cobourg’s status as Ontario’s next great metropolis.
By the early autumn of 1860, Tully’s creation was complete. On Cobourg’s King Street, not far from the waterfront, stood an enormous architectural masterpiece built of pale yellow brick and elaborately-carved sandstone. This 700,000-square-foot, three-story, E-shaped landmark was built in the Palladian fashion (“Palladian” being a style inspired by the designs of 16th century Venetian architect Andrea Palladio, who was, in turn, inspired by Classical Greek and Roman architecture), complete with Corinthian columns, a Greco-Roman roof, and an orator’s balcony, and capped with an impressive clock tower. The ornamental sandstone framing the entrance bore carvings of the Tudor rose, the Scottish thistle, and the Irish shamrock, reflecting Upper Canada’s British heritage.
The splendour of the building’s interior matched that of its elegant exterior. Its courtroom was modelled after London’s historic “Old Bailey”, the Central Criminal Court of England and Wales. Its meeting rooms and offices were similarly ornate. Its ballroom was exquisite, constructed in Baroque fashion. And its crowning glory, its 1000-seat Concert Hall, was hand painted in trompe-l’oeil style.
This magnificent building was named “Victoria Hall” in honour of Great Britain’s reigning monarch, Queen Victoria.
Victoria Hall’s Grand Opening
At the time of Victoria Hall’s completion, Queen Victoria’s 19-year-old son, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (Great Britain’s future King Edward VII), was undertaking the very first Royal tour of Canada- a tradition which endures to this day. To the townspeople’s delight, it was announced that Prince Edward would visit Cobourg during his tour and take part in the grand opening of the opulent town hall which had been named in honour of his mother.
On September 7, 1860, Prince Edward and his retinue arrived at Cobourg Harbour by steamer. Accompanied by an honour guard of Upper Canada’s Volunteer Militia Rifles, he travelled by carriage to Victoria Hall. After delivering a formal address, the Prince of Wales opened the grand ball, and by 11 o’clock that night, the teenage Prince was dancing with the gleeful ladies of Cobourg.
A Royal Affair
According to legend, one particularly attractive Cobourg lady named Mrs. Parks caught the eye of Prince Edward in Victoria Hall’s ballroom that evening. Whatever happened between the young aristocratic and Canadian lady that night is a matter of pure conjecture. Roughly nine months later, however, Mrs. Parks gave birth to her son, Archie, who is said to have grown up to bear a remarkable resemblance to King George V, the son and successor of King Edward VII. To make this tale even more intriguing, legend has it that Archie would come into the Cobourg bank once a month to deposit sizeable cheques from the British Treasury.
The Prince’s Departure
The day following Victoria Hall’s first grand ball, Prince Edward was invited to travel to Peterborough, the next destination on his tour, via the newly-constructed Cobourg and Peterborough Railway. The Prince accepted the invitation, and in no time the journey was underway.
At about halfway between Cobourg and Peterborough, the train reached Rice Lake and its infamous wooden bridge. At this point, Prince Edward and his retinue exited the train and announced that they were going to travel across the lake via steamboat instead of by rail (a steamer had regularly ferried passengers across the lake since the 1840’s, when a rough plank road connected Cobourg with Rice Lake). Although the Prince’s aides claimed that water travel would afford Prince Edward a better view of the lake’s scenery, the mortified townspeople suspected that the decision was prompted by a lack of confidence in the bridge’s structural integrity.
The Collapse of the Rice Lake Bridge
Whatever the case, history shows that any potential misgivings about the solidity of the bridge over Rice Lake might not have been entirely unfounded.
Shortly before Prince Edward’s visit, the men of the Cobourg Peterborough Railroad were approached by a mysterious businessman who advised that they allow him to lease their railway to the larger Grand Trunk Railroad. Believing this to be a profitable venture, the railwaymen agreed.
Unbeknownst to the men of the Cobourg Peterborough Railroad, this businessman was, in fact, an agent of their arch rival, a burgeoning railway company from Port Hope. Instead of leasing the railroad to the Grand Trunk, the businessman sold it to the Port Hope railwaymen, who subsequently had their employees sabotage it by removing its iron bolts and fittings for use in their own railroad. Shortly thereafter, the middle section of the bridge over Rice Lake collapsed. The structure was never rebuilt, and Cobourg has remained a small Ontario town with an uncharacteristically grandiose town hall ever since.
The Courtroom Ghost
Despite the tragedy surrounding its genesis, the citizens of Cobourg, Ontario, have put Victoria Hall to excellent use. Its celebrated Concert Hall has staged countless plays, shows, speeches, and musical productions over the years. It has seen many a local church fundraiser and political rally. During the Fenian raids of the 1860’s and ‘70’s, it served as an armoury for the first and second Companies of the 40th Northumberland Battalion, and during the first two World Wars, it housed the workshop of the Cobourg Branch of the Red Cross.
In addition to these aberrant functions, Victoria Hall, for many years, served as the town hall it was originally meant to be. It held the municipal and county administrative offices of Cobourg and Northumberland, respectively, as well as several law offices and Masonic lodge rooms. And for many years, its sunken courtroom served as the arena for countless legal disputes and witnessed the trials of Northumberland County’s criminally accused.
According to legend, sometime in the 1870’s, a defendant condemned to some unenviable fate leapt from the prisoner box in the courtroom of Victoria Hall and ran down the aisle to the front doors in a last-ditch escape attempt. To his dismay, he found that the doors were locked. He shook them desperately, with all his might, but could not get them to open.
Legend has it that, on quiet summer nights, those same doors rattle violently, shaken by the shade of that unfortunate prisoner who remains unable to escape the courtroom of Victoria Hall, even in death.
The Restoration of Victoria Hall
In 1970, a hundred and ten years after its grand opening, cracks were discovered in the walls of Victoria Hall. The structure, it seemed, had shifted, much like its 19th Century counterpart, the ill-fated bridge over Rice Lake. The following year, Victoria Hall- a National Historic Site since 1959- was vacated, having been declared structurally unsafe.
As the town was unable to afford repairs, a motion was made for the building’s demolition. The motion was denied by a single opposing vote cast by Cobourg’s Deputy Reeve, a lady named Lenah Field Fisher.
Instead of allowing the magnificent building to fall into decay, Lenah Fisher founded the Society for the Restoration of Victoria Hall. Throughout the 1970’s, she and other Society members carried out a fundraising campaign with the aim of restoring the historic building to its former glory.
The campaign was ultimately successful, and Victoria Hall was officially reopened in 1983. Unfortunately, Lenah Field Fisher was unable to enjoy the fruits of her labour; she passed away in 1980, posthumously donating her money and her estate to the cause.
Some say that the spirit of Lenah Fisher returned to witness Victoria Hall’s grand reopening. During one of the speeches in the opening ceremony, a ball globe light fixture exploded immediately after her name was said. If Lenah Fisher truly paid a visit to Victoria Hall in spirit that day, a number of first-hand accounts reported by performers and staff seem to suggest that she may have never left.
The Green Lady of Victoria Hall
Since the early 1980’s, both regulars and visitors have reported seeing the apparition of a woman wandering the corridors of Victoria Hall, only to vanish before their eyes. Most often, this mysterious spectre is seen wearing a green velvet dress, earning her the nickname the ‘Green Lady’.
Victoria Hall’s Concert Hall is said to be the Green Lady’s favourite haunt. One performer named Jamie Hunt once watched the hem of a woman’s dress disappear through a backstage wall at the exact spot at which the door to the caretaker’s quarters once stood. Hunt’s future wife, Beth, who now works as the Concert Hall facilitator, once observed the taps in the backstage washroom turning on and off by themselves during the middle of a performance. Production and tech crews have opened up the Concert Hall’s control booth to find the lighting and soundboard levels mysteriously tampered with, and performers have reported seeing a mysterious lady in green watching them during rehearsals.
Some suspect that this spectre might be the ghost of Lenah Fisher, returned from the grave to walk the halls of the historic building she fought so hard to preserve.
“Victoria Hall, Cobourg, Restored: With Tales of Illicit Affairs and Ghosts that go Bump on the Door”, by Terry Boyle, in the October 1977 issue of the monthly newspaper magazine Early Canadian Life, courtesy of Fortean researcher Mr. Gary S. Mangiacopra
“The Nahanni River drains a vast land of fascinating beauty and splendor. The lure of gold has enticed many men through the canyons to this alluring land. Many have perished in it valley and mountains, some in search of gold. It is possible that most have died violent and unexplained deaths. Conjecture has given rise to all sorts of weird theories as to the cause of these misfortunes.”
– Dick Turner, Nahanni, 1989
For many Canadians today, the word ‘Nahanni’ is a foreign one. In some outdoor adventurers, it might evoke the South Nahanni River, a wild mountain waterway located in the southwest corner of the Northwest Territories; a subarctic Mecca for white water enthusiasts chock-full of world-class rapids, made famous by Raymond M. Patterson’s 1954 adventure book Dangerous River. Others might know it as a breathtaking National Park and UNESCO World Heritage Site through which the South Nahanni runs; a land of astounding geological and biological diversity, complete with dizzying canyons, enormous tufa mounds, and a waterfall nearly twice the height of the Niagara Falls. To a relative few, however, this remote country hugging the junction of the British Columbia, Yukon, and Northwest Territories’ borders is a land of myth and mystery, home to legends commemorated in the names of its landmarks, such as Deadmen Valley, Headless Creek, Broken Skull Hot Springs, and the Funeral Range.
If you read our book Legends of the Nahanni Valley, then you already know all about these stories for which Nahanni Country is notorious. You know the tale of Willie and Frank McLeod, the hapless Metis prospectors who lost their heads in the Deadmen Valley, and the legend of their lost gold mine, which has yet to be found. You know about the ghost stories, the Evil Spirit, and the hairy, man-eating giants said to inhabit the caves that pockmark the Nahanni’s canyons. You know the tale of the White Queen, and of the ferocious Nahanni Indians over whom she ruled. You know the story of the Naha tribe- the brutal cavemen who mysteriously vanished long ago, in the dim recesses of the Nahanni’s dark history. And you know the legends of the Nahanni’s prehistoric residents- tales of mammoths, mastodons, and other antediluvian monsters which, some say, still roam the region to this very day.
Secrets of the Nahanni
We’re thrilled to announce that, in the summer of 2019, a company of courageous Canucks intend to explore this vale of mystery and menace and discover for themselves the secrets of what newspapers and magazines have dubbed the “Headless Valley”. They plan to explore the South Nahanni River from its mouth on the Liard River to its mysterious headwaters, nestled deep in the Mackenzie Mountains. And they hope to learn the native lore surrounding the South Nahanni from Dene elders, whose ancestors both feared and revered this ancient river.
The crewmembers intend to document their experience in a film entitled Secrets of the Nahanni. This documentary will be directed by Marc McPherson, a native of Calgary, Alberta. Dax Justin, a Calgary-based explorer, will serve as the expedition’s photographer. The documentary’s soundtrack will be put together by David James Nielsen, a composer based in Orlando, Florida. Chief Gerald Antoine, former Grand Chief of the Dehcho (Slavey) First Nation, will facilitate interviews with Dene elders in the native settlements that skirt Nahanni Country. And canoe guides from the outdoor adventure company Nahanni Wild will lead the crew through the rapids-riddled canyons of the South Nahanni River.
How to Help
In order to accomplish this dangerous venture, the Secrets of the Nahanni crew will require financial backing. If you’d like to learn more about their hopeful expedition, check them out on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter. And if you’d like to help them achieve their goal (and acquire some goodies in the process), consider purchasing some of their “perks” on their Indiegogo crowdfunding campaign. These perks include:
On August 3, 2018, a monster F-4 tornado- a raging, swirling vortex with 280 km/hour winds- ripped through the rural community of Alonsa, Manitoba, destroying private property and killing 77-year-old retired teacher Jack Furrie.
Tragic as it was, the Alonsa tornado is but the latest in a long line of Canadian twisters that have devastated the Prairies and Central Canada since time immemorial. Here is a list of some of Canada’s most memorable tornadoes.
1. Black Friday: The Edmonton Tornado of 1987
In the last week of July, 1987, an ugly thunderstorm brewed over Central Alberta. On Friday, July 31, this tempest devolved into an F-3 tornado (with 185-253 km/h winds) that swept north through the town of Beaumont, Alberta, destroying granaries and farm equipment, killing livestock, and injuring citizens in the process.
At around 3:00 in the afternoon, the tornado reached Edmonton, Alberta, the provincial capital, and tore through the city’s Millwoods residential area. The twister continued north, swelling into a tremendous F-4 (a tornado of 331-417 km/h winds) with a diameter of 1.3 kilometres. Eventually, it tore into the district of Sherwood Park, destroying oil tanks, levelling buildings, derailing trains, and killing twelve people in the heavy industrial area known as Refinery Row. Within an hour, the tornado travelled northeast through the valley of the North Saskatchewan River, causing severe damage in the residential neighbourhoods of Kernohan, Bannerman, and Fraser in northeast Edmonton. It continued northeast, eventually hitting the Evergreen trailer park on the outskirts of town, where it wiped out 200 mobile homes and killed fifteen people.
Ultimately, the tornado resulted in 27 deaths, 300 injured Edmontonians, and over $300 million in damage, making it one of the most devastating natural disasters in Canadian history.
2. The Super-Twister of Elie, Manitoba, 2007
The most powerful tornado in Canadian history touched down near the town of Elie, Manitoba, on June 22, 2007. This slender, elegant super-twister was given a rating of F-5- the most powerful class of tornado, with winds ranging between 420 to 512 kilometres per hour, and the only one of its kind ever recorded in the Great White North.
After obliterating a flour mill, this super-twister made a loop around Elie, sweeping away four houses as it progressed. Fortunately, due to the sparsity of the population in that part of the prairies, the tornado did relatively little damage, and mercifully failed to injure or kill single Canuck.
3. The Tornado of Pipestone Manitoba, 2007
On June 23, 2007, a day after the Elie Super-Twister, Manitoba was rocked by another tornado that struck near the more westerly community of Pipestone. This F-3 wedge tornado (‘wedge tornadoes’ being especially squat twisters with widths equaling or exceeding their heights) destroyed trees, wheat fields, and two homes, causing $2 million in damage.
What makes this particular tornado especially remarkable is the width of its base. With a path of destruction that reached a width of 1.8 kilometres, this colossus is Canada’s largest recorded tornado by size.
4. The Barrie Tornado Outbreak of 1985
On May 31, 1985, Mother Nature reared her head and reminded the people of Central Ontario, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York State of her awesome power by bombarding them with 44 terrible tornadoes, fourteen of which touched down in Canada. It was the largest and most intense tornado outbreak to hit the Great Lakes region, and the second most prolific tornado outbreak in Canadian history (second to the 19-twister Southern Ontario Tornado Outbreak of 2009).
At 3:00 p.m., an F-1 tornado touched down near the village of Rush Cove, Ontario, on the Bruce Peninsula (which separates Georgian Bay from Lake Huron). During the next three and a half hours, eight different F-2 tornadoes ravaged much of Southern Ontario, touching down near the communities of Hopeness, Hopeville, Lisle, Wagner Lake, Ida, Rice Lake, and Minto. At 4:57, an F-1 touched down near the village of Essa, not far from Barrie, Ontario, and at around 4:15, two F-3 tornadoes hit the communities of Alma and Corbetton, Ontario, respectively.
Around the same time as the F-3s, an enormous F-4 twister formed near the community of Grand Valley, Ontario. The tornado caused major damage in town, ripping out enormous maple trees for which the town was known, before moving northeast for over an hour, passing the towns of Orangeville, Tottenham, Newmarket, and Bradford before finally dying out west of Mount Albert, Ontario. In total, this particular twister travelled a distance of 115 kilometres, making it the furthest-travelling tornado in Canadian history.
During its lifetime, the Grand Valley tornado took out many power lines and hydro transformers, causing the power to go out in all of Barrie, Ontario. As a result, many business owners allowed their employees to return home. In this way, many citizens inadvertently avoided the path of another monstrous F-4 tornado that tore into the city of Barrie at 5:00 p.m. This twister ripped through neighbourhoods and an industrial area known as Molson Park, obliterating houses and sucking citizens out of their cars. After travelling for ten kilometres, the Barrie tornado finally lifted.
In total, the fourteen tornadoes that swept through Southern Ontario that day left 12 people dead (eight in the city of Barrie), hundreds of people injured, 300 buildings destroyed, 800 people homeless, and incurred $100 million in damage. The United States was hit even worse, losing 78 people, a thousand businesses, and $600 million in damage to her own tornadoes (which included a colossal F-5).
5. The 1792 Tornado of Hurricane Road
The oldest recorded tornado in Canadian history hit Ontario’s Niagara Peninsula in 1792, levelling houses and uprooting trees. The calamity proved to be a blessing in disguise, as the twister carved a path through the woods that separated the communities of Fonthill and the easterly Port Robinson. Townspeople constructed a road through this storm-swept corridor, which they appropriately dubbed “Hurricane Road”- a thoroughfare which still exists today.
6. The Regina Cyclone
On June 30, 1912, Canada’s deadliest tornado struck the town of Regina, Saskatchewan. That day, at around 4:50 p.m., green funnel clouds formed south of the city, manifesting as a monstrous F-4 tornado. The twister travelled north and hit Regina at around 5:00. For six long minutes, the twister carved its way through town, obliterating brick buildings and wooden houses. As it passed the Legislative Buildings, it swept away exam papers from all over the province, forcing Saskatchewan teachers to grade their students based on their memories of their performances throughout the school year.
One family took refuge from the storm in their attic. The Regina Cyclone neatly tore the attic off the house and carried it, in one piece, a hundred and fifty feet into a neighbour’s yard. Miraculously, not one member of the family was hurt.
By the time the cyclone finally dissipated, it had injured hundreds, left thousands homeless, caused $5 million in damage, and killed 28 Regina residents, making it the deadliest tornado in Canadian history.
Interestingly, two Hollywood stars were visiting Regina at the time of the Cyclone. American actress Henrietta Crossman and her troupe witnessed the devastation and later staged a benefit performance, donating part of the show’s proceeds to victims of the tornado. Also in town at the time was future horror film star Borris Karloff, then a struggling stage actor. Following the Regina Cyclone, the young Englishman worked clearing debris for twenty cents an hour.
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6 Incredible Canadian Tornadoes was last modified: August 15th, 2018 by Hammerson Peters
“Awful news coming out of Fredericton. My heart goes out to everyone affected by this morning’s shooting. We’re following the situation closely.”
So tweeted Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau this morning in response to news of a shootout that took place in the courtyard of an apartment complex in Fredericton, New Brunswick- an incident which landed a wounded suspect in custody and left four people dead, two of them police officers.
While there is currently little information regarding the motives of the shooter and the circumstances surrounding the shooting, this tragic event evokes another New Brunswick gunfight that occurred in the more easterly city of Moncton four years ago.
On the evening of June 4, 2014, a 24-year-old man named Justin Bourque left the trailer he rented and calmly strolled down Moncton’s Pioneer Avenue. He was dressed in combat fatigues and wore a commando-style sweatband. He carried a .308 semi-automatic rifle in his hand and a 12-gauge shotgun on his back.
Trailer park residents notified the local RCMP of Bourque’s unusual activity, and one by one, twelve lightly-armed Mounties arrived on the scene. By the time the first of the officers showed up, Bourque had disappeared into a wooded area on the side of the road. One of the officers, 45-year-old Constable Fabrice Gevaudan, stood at the edge of the woods, scanning the area for any sign of activity. Suddenly, he spotted some movement in the brush. “Hey!” he shouted.
Bourque answered the Mountie by firing three shots at him in rapid succession. “He’s shooting at me! He’s shooting at me!” Gevaudan shouted into his radio. As he ran for cover, two more shots rang out, and Gevaudan collapsed, dead.
Several minutes later, Bourque emerged from the woods and began walking down Mailhot Avenue. Another Mountie, Constable David Ross, was notified of Bourque’s location and began approaching him from behind in his SUV. As he neared the camo-clad gunman, Ross drew his pistol and stepped on the accelerator, apparently attempting to either run down Bourque with his service vehicle or get within shooting range before the gunman had time to react. Ross fired two shots through his windshield at Bourque, missing him. In response, Bourque whirled around and fired six shots at Ross, killing the Mountie with a shot to the head.
Bourque continued down Mailhot Avenue, passing several fearful residents along the way. To a bystander named Millie Stewart, he said, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to kill civilians; just government officials.”
At the intersection of Mailhot Avenue and Hildegard Drive, Justin Bourque was approached by RCMP Constable Martine Benoit, who had been guided to his location by a civilian. Bourque shot at Benoit’s squad car and disabled it. Before the gunman could inflict further damage, Benoit’s fellow officer, Constable Eric Dubois, leapt to her defence. Dubois exchanged fire with Bourque, taking shots to his left arm and both legs. After this brief shootout, Bourque took a right on Hildegard Drive and continued down the street, allowing the wounded Mountie to flee to a nearby fire station. Benoit, unharmed, remained in her squad car, thinking that she was still in danger.
Shortly thereafter, RCMP Constable Darlene Goguen unwittingly approached Bourque’s location from the front. Goguen was using a different radio frequency than the officers involved in the shootout, and although her sister had called her to inform her that a cop-killing gunman was on the loose (at least, according to a rumour floating around social media), she did not know where the action was taking place. As she neared Bourque’s location, Goguen observed a civilian vehicle in front of her make an illegal U-turn and subsequently turned her own vehicle around, prepared to apprehend the driver. Suddenly, three gunshots rang out, shattering the front and rear windshields of Goguen’s squad car. The Mountie felt hot blood stream down the back of her head. “I’m shot! I’m shot! I’m shot!” she shrieked into her radio. “I’m shot in the head!” Goguen drove on and, with the help of fellow officer Constable Donnie Robertson, managed to escape with her life.
Justin Bourque proceeded to cut across a stretch of grass and arrived back on Mailhot Avenue. There, he was approached by RCMP Constable Douglas Larch, who was on foot and dressed in plainclothes. When Bourque spotted Larch, he initially believed him to be a civilian. When he noticed that he carried a shotgun, however, Bourque hid behind a tree and fired four shots at him. One of Bourque’s bullets hit Larch in the head, killing him instantly.
After assuring himself that Larch no longer posed a threat, Justin Bourque continued down the road and disappeared into a stretch of forest.
For the next thirty hours, Justin Bourque hid out in the forest, living, in his words, “like a snake”. Photos of him taken by civilians during the shootout began to circulate around social media, and several of his friends and family members identified him to the police. In no time, a 300-man manhunt for Justin Bourque, complete with helicopters and armoured vehicles, was underway.
On the night of June 5, 2014, a Moncton resident spotted Justin Bourque in his backyard. The fugitive had snuck onto his property in order to get a drink from his garden hose. The resident informed the local RCMP, who promptly arrested Bourque without incident.
Motive and Sentencing
In a subsequent interrogation, Bourque unreservedly admitted to the shooting, claiming that he “fought for freedom.” He maintained that the Canadian government was corrupt, authoritarian, and imperialistic, and that a revolution was in order. He hoped that his shootout with the RCMP might spark such an uprising.
On August 8, Justin Bourque plead guilty to three counts of first-degree murder and two counts of attempted murder. He was subsequently given two life sentences, to be served consecutively, without the possibility of parole for 75 years. His sentence is considered by many to be the harshest of its kind since the last Canadian death sentence in 1962.
Justin Bourque is currently serving time at the Atlantic Institution, a federal corrections facility located in the hamlet of Renous, New Brunswick.
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Justin Bourque and the Moncton Shootout was last modified: August 15th, 2018 by Hammerson Peters
Ever since the campaign for the 2016 United States presidential election, American politics have completely dominated the public conversation in the West. Back in the 20th Century, this conversation would have been the almost-exclusive domain of the mainstream media. In this digital age, however, the bulk of this exchange naturally takes place on the internet.
For over a decade now, independent citizen journalists have analyzed current events and preached their political principles (many of which deviate wildly from those espoused by the mainstream media) on YouTube and various social media platforms. In doing so, many of them have gained enormous followings, some of which now dwarf the audiences of major mainstream media companies.
Interestingly, a surprising number of the most prominent independent journalists on the conservative side of the political spectrum, despite the fact the bulk of their commentary often revolves around American politics, are actually Canadian citizens. To this author, at least, the process by which so many Canadians came to play such an important role in American alternative media is a bit of a mystery. That the Great White North’s most talented right-leaning political commentators would turn their attention towards the affairs of our country’s southern neighbour is totally understandable, as Canada has no mainstream conservative counterpart to the left-leaning CBC, and American politics are arguably far more interesting than the shenanigans which characterize the House of Commons. What’s more difficult to understand is how these Canadian commentators rose to such ascendency in a field in which their patriotic, red-blooded American counterparts likely outnumber them ten to one. Perhaps, like ice hockey, lacrosse, and comedy, right-wing American alternative media is a scene in which Canucks, through some mysterious process, are somehow predisposed to excel. If you have any ideas on why this is so, please let us know in the Comments below. Whatever the case, here are ten prominent Canadian political pundits who’ve made quite the splash in the alternative media community.
1. Gavin McInnes
Without a doubt, the most outrageous political pundit on our list is Gavin McInnes, the scrappy, scruffy, self-styled “Godfather of Hipsterdom”.
Before he entered the world of citizen journalism in 2015, Gavin McInnes was a well-established media veteran with a wealth of experience under his belt, much of which he detailed in his 2012 memoir How to Piss in Public. Born in Hertfordshire, England, in 1970, he immigrated with his family to Ottawa, Ontario, when he was four years old. In 1994, he co-founded VICE magazine, a Montreal-based publication once famous for its provocative, politically-incorrect pieces. Throughout the 2000’s, he worked stand-up comedy gigs, wrote articles for various conservative magazines, and took on a number of acting roles for Canadian TV programs. And throughout the first half of the 2010’s, he was a regular on Greg Gutfield’s rowdy Fox News show Red Eye.
In April 2015, Gavin McInnes joined TheRebel Media, then a fledgling conservative Canadian alternative media company. He immediately became one of the show’s main stars, entertaining his audience with his unique brand of comedic journalism. In many of his videos, he took on alternate personas, like his belligerent, foul-mouthed, tartan-clad Scottish father ‘Jimmy McInnis’, or his left-leaning, Communistic, Palestinian-keffiyeh-wearing brother ‘Miles McInnis’. He regaled his audience with hilarious, honest vulgarity, constantly venturing into the wild frontier well beyond the boundaries of political correctness, yet always tempering his crudeness with bouts of serious political and social commentary. In his videos, he championed libertarian conservatism, and classified himself as “alt-light” (as opposed to “alt-right”, an ideology with which some of his critics have attempted to connect him), a new Trumpian right-wing political ideology which rejects white nationalism.
In 2016, Gavin McInnes founded the Proud Boys, a right-leaning, pro-Western fraternity. Gavin established four hierarchical degrees within the Proud Boys’ organization. Initiates hoping to attain the First Degree are required to declare “I am a Western chauvinist who refuses to apologize for creating the modern world.” In order to advance to the Second Degree, members must name five breakfast cereals while being ‘jumped in’ by fellow fraternity members. To attain the Third Degree, members must get ‘Proud Boy’ tattoos. And to elevate themselves to the Fourth and final Degree, each member must get into a physical fight with an Antifa militant (Antifa being a radical far-left organization characterized by an opposition to U.S. President Donald Trump and his supporters). One prominent member of the Proud Boys organization is Kyle Chapman, better known by his nicknames “Based Stickman” and the “Alt-Knight”- a right-wing street fighter famous for wielding a stick and shield during the 2017 anti-Trump protests at Berkeley, California.
In 2017, Gavin McInnes left TheRebel Media to join CRTV, a conservative American media company comprised of media celebrities like Mark Levin, Michelle Malkin, and Duck Dynasty star Phil Robertson. Ever since, he has hosted his own show Get Off My Lawn, in which he entertains and informs his audience much as he did at TheRebel Media.
2. Faith Goldy
One of Gavin McGinnis’ co-stars at TheRebel Media was Faith Goldy, a journalist and Toronto native of Ukrainian and Greek extraction.
While working for TheRebel, Faith hosted her own show, On the Hunt with Faith Goldy. On her program, she frequently praised the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution, which protects the right of American citizens to keep and bear arms. She extolled Judeo-Christian values, supported Israel’s right to self-determination, and displayed a deep respect for history and tradition.
In addition to being a hardcore conservative, Faith is also a staunch, traditional Roman Catholic. In many of her videos, articles, and social media messages, she has used the motto “Deus vult” (Latin for “God wills it”), a battle cry adopted by Christian knights during the First Crusade.
In early 2017, Faith Goldy became the first journalist to report on the flood of illegal migrants across Canada’s southern border- a story of which certain major mainstream media companies were almost certainly aware, yet inexplicably failed to cover. She and her cameraman recorded historic footage of RCMP officers serving as de facto bellboys for self-proclaimed “refugees” from the United States, carrying their luggage for them across the border into Canada. Since her scoop, other Canadian media companies like CBC and the Toronto Star have picked up the story of Canada’s ongoing border crisis.
In August 2017, Faith Goldy, acting against the advice of her employer, attended the “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, in her capacity as a journalist. The rally was organized by alt-right leaders Jason Kessler and Richard Spencer, and was intended as a protest against the city’s decision to remove a statue of Confederate Army General Robert E. Lee. During the rally, Faith captured footage of an infamous vehicular attack which left one woman dead and ten people injured.
Following the Charlottesville rally, Faith Goldy appeared for an interview on the Daily Stormer, an alt-right podcast with white nationalist leanings. In the interview, she criticized the Charlottesville police for their poor conduct during the rally, commented upon the police’s apparent leniency towards the far-left Antifa militants who attended it, and acknowledged that the alt-right was a growing force in American politics. Her behavior was apparently too rebellious for TheRebel, as her employer fired her shortly after the incident.
Today, Faith continues her work as an independent journalist on her Twitter and YouTube accounts.
3. Stefan Molyneux
One alternative media channel on which both Gavin McInnes and Faith Goldy have appeared as guests is Freedomain Radio, a philosophy show which prides itself on being “the largest and most popular” of its kind in the world. Freedomain Radio is run by a bald-headed history buff, drama enthusiast, and tech company CEO-turned-philosopher named Stefan Molyneux.
Stefan Molyneux is an Irish-Canadian immigrant of French and Celtic pedigree who grew up in Ontario and Quebec. Although he considers himself a libertarian (i.e. a proponent of limited government involvement in the affairs of its citizens) as opposed to a conservative, he has hosted many guests over the past few years who identify as right-wing. An advocate of free speech and fair debate, he has given a platform to scientists, academics, and intellectuals who propose unsettling theses on subjects considered taboo in polite society. Some of these ideas include the notion that there are general correlations between race and intelligence, the concept that multiculturalism creates division by promoting tribalism, and the idea that the feminist movement resulted in a general decrease in women’s happiness.
In addition to hosting guests on his show, Stefan often performs eloquent analyses of current events, interpreting them through the filters of Aristotelian philosophy, anti-authoritarianism, and a staunch adherence to free market principles. He frequently takes calls from his listeners who appeal to him for advice regarding their careers and relationships. A believer that abusive parenting has a gravely deleterious impact on childhood development, he often attempts to psychoanalyze his callers in an effort to connect their current problems with their upbringing. And every once in a while, he creates lengthy, well-researched presentations which purport to explain “The Truth About” certain historic events of which popular perception is ostensibly skewed.
During the 2016 United States presidential election, Stefan Molyneux was a vocal supporter of then-presidential candidate Donald Trump. He believed that the Syrian migrant crisis was in the process of destroying Europe, and feared that the United States- and, by extension, the rest of the Western World- would meet a similar fate if Third World immigration to America (an issue which Trump addressed during his campaign) was not curtailed.
4. Roaming Millennial
One of Stefan Molyneux’s many guests is a young lady who goes by the alias “Roaming Millennial”.
Born in Canada in the 1990’s to a white Canadian mother and a Chinese-Canadian father, Roaming moved to Hong Kong during infancy and lived there for the next ten years. Throughout the 2000’s, she and her family moved all over the world, living briefly in Shanghai, London, and Singapore, before finally settling down on Canada’s West Coast.
After attaining a degree in political science at an American university, Roaming began creating YouTube videos in which she criticized transgenderism, third-wave feminism, Black Lives Matter, and social justice culture in general. She quickly gained a considerable following, and began interviewing prominent conservative, libertarian, and classical liberal pundits like Dennis Prager, Christina Hoff Summers, Dave Rubin, and Milo Yiannopoulos.
In December 2017, Roaming Millennial signed on with CRTV, joining the ranks of Gavin McInnes and Michelle Malkin. Today, she hosts the CRTV show Roaming Millennial: Uncensored.
5. Karen Straughan
Another prominent female Canadian commentator allied with pundits on the right side of the political spectrum is Karen Straughan, an anti-feminist and men’s rights activist from Edmonton, Alberta.
Karen first discovered the world of men’s rights activism while in the middle of a divorce. She realized, to her horror, how easy it would be for her to financially ruin her ex-husband, as divorce laws hugely favour women over men, and decided to do some research to see if there were others like her who similarly took issue with the lopsidedness of divorce courts. She subsequently stumbled upon several men’s rights activism communities online and began to participate in them. Eventually, she began to create YouTube videos of her own, in which she attempted to “red pill” her audience, shedding light on issues affecting men and boys and combatting aspects of the feminist ideology which she deemed destructive. She quickly developed a considerable following, and acquired the nickname “The Honey Badger”.
Along with most of the pundits on this list, Karen supported then-candidate Donald Trump in the 2016 American presidential race.
6. Gad Saad
Another ally of conservative pundits is Dr. Gad Saad, a Jewish Lebanese-Canadian who currently resides in Montreal, Quebec.
In 1975, when he was eleven years old, Gad and his family fled to Canada in order to escape antisemitism and the Lebanese Civil War. Gad subsequently obtained several degrees in science and mathematics from McGill University, as well as a Ph.D in cognitive psychology from Cornell University. He went on to become professor at Concordia University in Montreal, Quebec, where he taught courses on marketing psychology. He has since explored the effects of hormones on consumer decision-making, and has written several books on the subject.
Gad Saad’s involvement in the world of alternative media takes place on his YouTube channel, on which he hosts a series entitled The Saad Truth. In this series, he has criticized political correctness, multiculturalism, third-wave feminism, Islam, and social justice culture. Some guests who have appeared on his show include prominent conservative, libertarian, and classical liberal pundits like former Rebel Media contributor Tommy Robinson, neuroscientist Sam Harris, and activist Candace Owens.
7. Ezra Levant
No list of conservative Canadian alternative media personalities would be complete without a nod to Ezra Levant, co-founder of The Rebel Media.
Ezra Levant is a broadcaster, political activist, practicing Jew, and non-practicing lawyer who currently resides in Toronto, Ontario. A native of Calgary, Alberta, Ezra has involved himself in right-wing Canadian politics since his days as an undergraduate student at the University of Calgary, during which he campaigned for the Reform Party of Canada (a former conservative Western Canadian federal political party) and debated alongside Naheed Nenshi, Calgary’s current mayor. Several years after attaining his law degree at Edmonton’s University of Alberta, he founded the Western Standard, a right-leaning magazine specializing in Western Canadian issues.
In 2010, Ezra Levant joined Toronto’s Sun News Network as a columnist. When the Network was shut down in 2015, Ezra and his Sun News colleague Brian Lilley founded TheRebel Media, Canada’s first major conservative alternative media company. For two years, Rebel Media commentators and journalists produced videos and articles on politics, culture, and current events. Although Ezra allowed his employees a considerable degree of freedom in the content they created, most Rebel Media videos and articles were pro-Trump, pro-Israel, pro-gun, and pro-life, and were vigorously opposed to social justice culture, radical Islam, and the narrative put forth by left-leaning mainstream media outlets like CBC and CNN.
During the campaign for the 2016 U.S. presidential election, The Rebel Media exploded in popularity, gaining upwards of 600,000 subscribers on its YouTube channel. By August 2017, this number had climbed to 873, 800.
The company experienced a succession of major setbacks later that month, when several of its most prominent journalists, including Faith Goldy, Gavin McInnes, Lauren Southern (who we will detail later on in this article), and co-founder Brian Lilley either left or were fired. To make matters worse, former Rebel Media employee Caolin Robertson published a video in which he claimed that the company (and Ezra in particular) was more concerned with making money than it was with covering the truth. In spite of all of this, The Rebel Media experienced only a minor dip in subscriptions, and has been growing steadily ever since. Today, the company’s YouTube channel, which Ezra Levant continues to spearhead, has more than 970,000 subscribers.
8. Steven Crowder
One of the most famous conservative Canadian political pundits on our list is Steven Crowder, host of the enormously popular YouTube show Louder with Crowder.
Born in Michigan and raised in Greenfield Park, Quebec, Steven Crowder often refers to himself as a “Roman Catholic French Canadian”. In his early years, he worked as a voice actor and a film actor. By the age of 15, he was performing stand-up comedy, and by the age of 21, he began appearing as a regular guest on Fox News. In October 2013, Fox fired Steven for criticizing the performance of Fox News host Shawn Hannity in interviews with filmmaker Michael Moore and disgraced Democratic politician Anthony Weiner.
Ever since his release from Fox News, Steven Crowder has hosted his own YouTube comedy show Louder with Crowder, in which he and his co-host “Not Gay Jared” discuss culture, politics, and current events; present comedic skits on contemporary topics; and interview a variety of guests from different cultural and political backgrounds. Several months ago, Steven Crowder visited various American college campuses and invited students with opposing viewpoints to change his mind on issues like abortion, gun control, socialism, and transgenderism.
Although he has hosted guests from all sides of the political spectrum, Steven Crowder himself espouses an old-fashioned variety of conservatism. Similar to other traditional conservative pundits like Ben Shapiro and Glenn Beck, and unlike most of the Canadian commentators on this list, he did not support presidential candidate Donald Trump during the 2016 American election, and has remained critical of President Trump throughout the first two years of his presidency.
In 2017, Steven Crowder, like Gavin McInnes and Roaming Millennial, joined CRTV.
9. Jordan Peterson
Another Canadian public figure popular with the right-wing crowd is Dr. Jordan B. Peterson, a clinical psychologist and professor of philosophy at the University of Toronto.
Born in Edmonton, Alberta, Jordan Peterson grew up in the town of Fairview, in the heart of Alberta’s Peace River country. As a teenager, he was introduced to the works of anarchist George Orwell, anti-Communist Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, and libertarian Ayn Rand by his school librarian, the mother of Alberta’s current Premier Rachel Notley. These readings steered him towards the democratic socialistic side of the political spectrum, and for a time, Jordan Peterson worked for the New Democratic Party (NDP), Alberta’s social democratic political party. By the age of 18, he had become disenchanted with the culture of the NDP and decided to leave the party.
Jordan Peterson acquired degrees in political science and psychology from the University of Alberta, and earned himself a Ph.D in clinical psychology at McGill University. Following a research job in Massachusetts, he became a professor at the University of Toronto and has taught there ever since. In his psychology lectures, he often attempts to extract universal human truths from folktales and sacred scripture.
In 2017, Jordan Peterson publicly criticized Canada’s Bill C-16, a law introduced by Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s Liberal government which, among other things, requires professors to address transsexual students by their preferred gender pronouns. His critique, which stemmed from his belief in the importance of free speech, attracted the attention of the mainstream media in both Canada and the United States, and almost overnight, Jordan Peterson became a mainstream media sensation. Ever since, he has publicly criticized feminism, socialism, environmentalism, academic culture, the concept of white privilege, the notion of cultural appropriation, and other ideas and ideologies typically championed by the progressive left.
10. Lauren Southern
Last, but certainly not least on our list of conservative Canadian political pundits is Lauren Southern, a native of Surrey, British Columbia.
In 2015, 20-year-old Lauren Southern joined The Rebel Media and quickly became one of its most prominent journalists. While working for The Rebel, she was assaulted at Vancouver’s 2015 feminist SlutWalk rally, had urine poured over her head by an activist at a 2016 LGBT rally in Vancouver, legally changed her gender to ‘male’ in an effort to reveal the inanity of Ontario’s gender identity laws, covered the violent 2017 Berkeley protests, and reported on the migrant crisis in Europe. Throughout the course of her journalistic work for The Rebel, Lauren displayed extraordinary physical and moral courage, braving violence and reputational danger in an effort to bring to light stories she deemed important.
In December 2016, Lauren Southern published her first book Barbarians: How Baby Boomers, Immigrants, and Islam Screwed my Generation. In this book, she outlines her background, her libertarian conservative political philosophy, and her ideas regarding the origins of various problems facing the Western World today.
In August 2016, Lauren Southern left The Rebel Media to pursue work as an independent journalist. Ever since, she has uploaded her work to her YouTube channel.
In May, 2017, Lauren and a group of French nationalists called Les Identitaires attempted to prevent a ship from bringing North African migrants into Italy, stating “if the politicians don’t stop the boats, we’ll stop the boats.”
In March 2018, Lauren Southern, along with American nationalist pundit Brittany Pettibone and the latter’s boyfriend, were detained at the U.K. border on account of their having distributed fliers saying “Allah is a Gay God” in Luton, England, the month prior (this social experiment was inspired by a VICE article claiming that Jesus Christ was gay). The British border guards treated them as terrorists, denying them their right to an attorney during their interrogations.
Last month, Lauren independently produced a documentary entitled Farmlands, which she uploaded in its entirety to her YouTube channel. Farmlands focuses on the plight of white Afrikaner farmers in South Africa, whom raiders routinely rob and murder with impunity, and who are discriminated against by the South African government on account of their ethnicity.
Did We Miss Anyone?
And that is the end of our list of 10 conservative Canadian political pundits. If you know of other right-wing, libertarian, or classical liberal Canadian commentators who deserve a place on this list, please let us know in the Comments below.
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10 Conservative Canadian Political Pundits was last modified: October 3rd, 2018 by Hammerson Peters
Two weeks ago, we explored the story behind the origin of the word ‘Sasquatch’. Today, we’re going to take a look at the incredible tale behind the naming of the Sasquatch Mountain Resort- a ski hill nestled in the Douglas Mountains north of Chilliwack, British Columbia.
The Sasquatch Mountain Resort
For decades, the ski hill on the slopes of Mount Keenan, situated an hour’s drive from both Chilliwack and Mission, B.C., was known as the Hemlock Resort, ostensibly owing its name to a particular evergreen tree common to the rainforests of the Pacific Northwest. Last year, the Resort announced an ambitious expansion plan which it inaugurated with a rebranding campaign. In addition to adopting a new logo, Hemlock changed its name to the Sasquatch Mountain Resort.
In a press release, the Resort claimed that its new name was an homage to the Chehalis First Nation, on whose traditional territory the ski hill is located:
“The Sasquatch, which is an anglicized pronunciation of [Sasq’ets], is the primary caretaker of the land and an integral aspect of [Chehalis] identity and spiritual beliefs. Historical experiences with [Sasq’ets] have been orally documented and passed down from generation to generation. The Sasquatch ensures that the land remains plentiful and well taken care of.”
Although the Sasquatch Mountain Resort has not indicated an awareness of this in its press releases or on its website, its new name is doubly appropriate for a far more specific reason. Not only is the Sasquatch Mountain Resort located within the traditional territory of the Chehalis First Nation, a tribe closely associated with the legend of the Sasquatch; it is also located on the slopes of Mount Keenan, a landmark formerly known as Mount Morris, home to the most chilling Sasquatch story ever recorded.
The Legend of Mount Morris
Throughout the first half of the 20th Century, magazine and newspaper articles documented a strange legend espoused by members of the Chehalis First Nation. Chehalis elders whispered that, once every four years, the Sasquatch- the hairy wild giants of the coastal rainforests- congregated at the peak of Mount Morris, a mountain located just north of the Chehalis Reserve. Natives often encountered travelling Sasquatch in the woods immediately prior to this quadrennial pilgrimage, and some even observed signal fires flickering atop Mount Morris in the dead of the night- perhaps evidence of some mysterious powwow.
Throughout the 1930’s, a Scottish immigrant named J.W. Burns, who served as both the school teacher and the Indian Agent at the Chehalis Reserve, wrote a number of articles on the Sasquatch legend, some of them set on or near Mount Morris. In the first of these articles, published in the April 1, 1929 issue of Maclean’s magazine, he documented a story told to him by an elderly Chehalis hunter named Charley Victor. Victor claimed that he had encountered a Sasquatch woman in his youth, and that the creature had spoken to him in St’at’imcets, the language of the Douglas First Nation (a more northerly Lillooet tribe).
Burns published another tale of talking Sasquatch- the second of its kind ever recorded- in the January 1940 issue of The Wide World: A Magazine For Men. This story was told to him by an 87-year-old Chehalis woman named Serephine Long, who had lived in the area all her life. Her harrowing tale remains one of the most disturbing Sasquatch stories ever told.
The Tale of Serephine Long
In 1872, 17-year-old Serephine Long stumbled from the woods into the Chehalis village near the foot of Mount Morris. The villagers were astonished, as Serephine had been missing for nearly a year and had long been given up for dead. The girl was in a state of supreme exhaustion and was too weak to talk, and so her inquisitive countrymen withheld their many questions and put her to bed. Later that night, Serephine gave birth to a monstrous-looking child which only survived for a few hours.
When she was able, Serephine Long related her incredible experience to her family and friends. Nearly seventy years later, she told the same story to J.W. Burns at the Chehalis Reserve.
On the day of her disappearance back in 1871, Serephine Long had been foraging for cedar roots at the base of Mount Morris, daydreaming about the brave she was engaged to marry. On her way back to camp, a hairy hand shot out of the bush and clamped over her mouth. Serephine was hoisted into the air and thrown over the shoulder of a hairy giant.
“I was terrified,” the lady told Burns, “fought, and struggled with all my might. In those days, I was strong. But it was no good, the wildman was as powerful as a young bear. Holding me easily under one arm, with his other hand he smeared tree gum over my eyes, sticking them shut so that I could not see where he was taking me. He then lifted me to his shoulder and started to run.”
The Sasquatch took Serephine all the way up what could only be Mount Morris. “Although I was frightened,” Serephine told Burns, “I could not but admire his easy breathing, his great strength and speed on foot.”
The Sasquatch brought Serephine into a large cave near the top of the mountain and removed the tree gum from her eyes. “I sat up,” Serephine said, “and saw that I was in a great big cave. The floor was covered with animal skins, soft to touch and better preserved than we preserve them. A small fire in the middle of the floor gave all the light there was. As my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I saw that beside the young giant who had brought me to the cave, there were two other wild people- a man and a woman. To me, a young girl, they seemed very, very old, but they were active and friendly and later I learned that they were the parents of the young Sasquatch who had stolen me.”
For nearly a year, the Sasquatches kept Serephine Long as their prisoner, never allowing her an opportunity to escape. The Sasquatches spoke to each other in a language similar to St’at’imcets, the tongue of the Douglas Indians, and in time Serephine learned enough of their speech to communicate with them.
“They fed me well on roots, fish, and meat…” she told Burn. “I asked the young giant how he caught and killed the deer, mountain goats and sheep that he often brought into the cave. He smiled, opening and closing his big hairy hands. I guessed that he just laid in wait and when an animal got close enough, he leaped, caught it and choked it to death. He was certainly big enough, quick enough and strong enough to do so.”
About a year into her imprisonment, Serephine Long became very ill. She begged her young Sasquatch captor to return her to her own people so that she could recover. “At first he got very angry,” she said, “as did his father and mother, but I kept on pleading with them, telling them that I wished to see my own people before I died. I really was ill, and I suppose they could see that for themselves, because one day after I cried for a long time, the young Sasquatch went outside and returned with a leaf full of tree gum. With this he stuck down my eyelids as he had done before. Then he again lifted me to his big shoulder.”
The return journey was a hazy nightmare for Serephine Long, who was too weak to even cling to the Sasquatch as he carried her down the mountain. At last, he laid her down in the forest not too far from her home and gently removed the sap from her eyelids. “When he saw that I could see again,” Serephine said, “he shook his head sadly, pointed to my house and then turned back into the forest.”
The villagers were wildly excited at Serephine’s return. Too weak to reciprocate their enthusiasm, she crawled into bed. That night, she gave birth to a child, which only survived for a few hours.
“I hope that I never again shall see a Sasquatch,” she concluded.
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The Tale of Sasquatch Mountain was last modified: July 26th, 2018 by Hammerson Peters
In British Columbia and the Northwestern United States, the Sasquatch hardly needs an introduction. This elusive, wild, hairy giant, once an obscure character of First Nations’ lore, now serves as an icon of the Pacific Northwest. Eight years ago, it inspired Quatchi, a monstrous mascot for the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, BC. For twelve years, it has featured in Messin’ With Sasquatch– a series of hilarious Jack Link’s beef jerky commercials in which it is portrayed as the vengeful enemy of outdoorsy pranksters. And for sixteen years, it has shared its name with a famous Memorial Day music festival in George, Washington.
Another institution to which the Sasquatch lent its name is the Sasquatch Mountain Resort, a ski hill tucked away in the Douglas Mountains an hours’ drive north of Chilliwack, BC. The resort is aptly named, as most of its runs wind down the northeastern slope of Mount Keenan- a formation once known as Mount Morris, and the birthplace of the word “Sasquatch”.
The Origin of the Word “Sasquatch”
On the road from Chilliwack to the Sasquatch Mountain Resort, in the vicinity of the bridge over the Harrison River, lies the Chehalis Indian Reserve, home of the Chehalis First Nation.
The Chehalis people (not to be confused with their cousins from Puget Sound, with whom they share a name) are a Coast Salish people whose traditional territory revolves around the mouth of the Harrison River, a tributary of the Fraser.
Back in 1925, an Irish expat named John Walter Burns (born J.W. Bournes) became both the Indian agent and the schoolteacher at the Chehalis Reserve. Burns quickly earned the respect of the local natives and became fast friends with Frank Dan, a prominent Chehalis medicine man.
In those days, the Chehalis people were typically reluctant to share their stories with white men for fear of ridicule. Since J.W. Burns had demonstrated an open-mindedness towards their myths and legends, however, they eventually opened up to him and made him privy to some of their most carefully guarded secrets. Among the most intriguing of these were tales of wild hairy giants who, the Chehalis maintained, had inhabited the forests surrounding the Reserve since time immemorial. In 1929, Burns compiled some of these stories and published them in an article in the April 1, 1929 issue of the Canadian magazine Maclean’s, under the headline “Introducing B.C.’s Hairy Giants: A collection of strange tales about British Columbia’s wild men as told by those who say they have seen them.”
J.W. Burns’ Article
The tales of hairy wildmen recounted in J.W. Burns’ 1929 article in Maclean’s magazine are some of the most colourful of their kind to date.
The Wildman of Mount Morris
The first of these anecdotes details the experience of a Chehalis Indian man named Peter Williams in May 1909. While walking in the woods along the foot of Mount Morris about a mile from the Reserve, Williams heard a grunt in the bush. When he looked to see where the sound had come from, he found himself staring at what he first took to be a bear crouched atop a boulder about thirty feet away. As he raised his rifle to shoot the animal, it stood up and emitted a piercing scream. “It was a man,” said Williams. “A giant, no less than six and one-half feet in height, and covered in hair.” Enraged, the giant leapt from the boulder and tore after the Indian.
“I never ran so fast before or since,” said Williams, “through brush and undergrown toward the… Chehalis River [a tributary of the Harrison], where my dugout was moored.” Every so often, Williams glanced over his shoulder to check on his pursuer, who was quickly overtaking him. Williams narrowly escaped the monster by leaping into his boat and paddling downriver as fast as he could. “The swift river…” he said “did not in the least daunt the giant, for he began to wade it immediately.”
When he finally reached the safety of his cabin, Williams made sure that his wife and children were safe inside before bolting the door and barricading the entrance. “Then with my rifle ready,” Williams said, “I stood near the door and awaited his coming.”
After about twenty minutes, Williams heard a noise in the distance somewhat akin to the trampling of a horse. The noise became louder and louder. Williams eventually looked through a crack between the logs of the cabin wall and saw that the giant was approaching. “Darkness had not yet set in,” he said, “and I had a good look at him. Except that he was covered with hair and twice the bulk of the average man, there was nothing to distinguish him from the rest of us.”
When the monster reached the cabin, he began pushing the walls so that the structure rocked back and forth. The cabin creaked and groaned, yet by some miracle it managed to maintain its integrity. Clutching his rifle with trembling hands, Williams whispered for his wife to take the children and hide under the bed.
“After prowling and grunting like an animal around the house,” Williams continued, “he went away.” The family spent a restless night in the cabin, and in the morning Williams found the beast’s tracks in the mud outside, which were 22 inches long, “but narrow in proportion to their length.”
Peter Williams’ Second Encounter
The giant so damaged their cabin that the Williams’ family was forced to abandon it the following winter. Sometime later that season, Peter Williams went duck hunting on the north side of the Harrison River about two miles from the Reserve. Once again, he found himself face to face with the same hairy giant he had encountered the previous summer. As before, Williams ran for dear life, and the wildman chased after him. After about four hundred yards, however, the giant broke off and wandered back into the woods.
Interestingly, Peter’s brother, Paul, encountered the same creature later that afternoon. While he was fishing for salmon in a creek near the Reserve, the giant emerged from the forest and began to approach him. Terrified, Paul raced back towards his cabin with the monster hot on his heels. The giant gave up the chase shortly before Paul reached the cabin and walked back into the bush. Exhausted from fear and exertion, Paul collapsed in the snow and had to be carried inside by his mother and other relatives.
The Wild Couple of Harrison River
“The first and second time,” Williams told J.W. Burns, “I was all alone when I met this strange mountain creature. Then, early in the spring of the following year, another man and myself were bear hunting near the place where I found him. On this occasion, we ran into two of these giants.”
Initially, Williams and his companions thought the creatures were tree stumps. Suddenly, when they were about fifty feet away, the wildmen, who had been sitting on the ground, rose to their feet. Burns and his companion stopped dead in their tracks.
“We were close enough to know they were man and woman,” Williams said. “The woman was the smaller of the two, but neither of them as big or fierce-looking as the gent that chased me.” Williams and his friend ran home, and were not pursued.
Peter Williams’ Fourth and Final Sighting
One morning several weeks later, Williams and his wife were fishing in a canoe on the Harrison River not far from the Reserve. Upon paddling around a bend, they saw the same hairy giant that had destroyed their cabin the previous year. Fortunately, the monster took no notice of the Indians, and they made their escape without incident.
The Sasquatch Cave at Yale B.C.
Another wildman encounter Burns included in the article was the story of an elderly Indian named Charley Victor. Unlike Williams, Charley Victor was not a member of the Chehalis First Nation, but rather hailed from the Skwah Nation, a Coast Salish tribe from the Chilliwack area.
“The first time I came to know about these people,” Victor said, “I did not see anybody.” On this particular occasion, Victor was foraging with three other men on a rocky mountain slope about six miles from Yale- a town which lies on the CPR’s main line just north of Hope, BC. He and his companions were picking salmonberries- wild fruits similar to raspberries.
“In our search for berries,” Victor said, “we suddenly stumbled upon a large opening in the side of the mountain. This discovery greatly surprised all of us, for we knew every foot of the mountain, and we never knew nor heard there was a cave in the vicinity.”
Near the cave’s mouth was a massive boulder, which looked as though it once might have been employed as primitive door. The natives cautiously approached the cave and peered inside, but were unable to see anything on account of the darkness. In order to combat this, they gathered pitchwood (a type of pine heartwood naturally saturated with flammable resin), lit it on fire, and began to explore.
Not far from the mouth of the cave, the natives came upon a primitive stone house. “We couldn’t make a thorough examination,” Victor explained, “for our pitchwood kept going out. We left, intending to return in a couple of days and go on exploring.”
When Victor and his companions told the tale of their discovery to their fellow tribesmen back at the Reserve, the elders warned them not to venture near it again, as it was surely occupied by a wildman. “That was the first time I heard about the hairy men that inhabit the mountains,” Victor told Burns.
Disregarding the elders’ advice, Victor and his companions went back to explore the cave. When they reached it, they discovered, to their astonishment, that the massive boulder that stood near the entrance had been rolled back over the mouth, fitting so perfectly “that you might suppose it had been made for that purpose.”
Charley Victor’s First Encounter
About twenty years later, Charley Victor and a couple of his friends were bathing in a small lake near Yale, B.C. After he has finished bathing and had started to put on his clothes, a big hairy man stepped out from behind a rock only several feet away. “He looked at me for a moment,” Victor said. “His eyes were so kind-looking that I was about to speak with him, when he turned about and walked into the forest.”
The Wild Women of Hatzic, B.C.
In around 1914, Charley Victor had a second encounter with a hairy wild giant while hunting in the mountains near the village of Hatzic, just east of Mission, B.C.
On this excursion, Victor was accompanied by his dog. Upon hiking up to a plateau, his dog rushed over to a large cedar tree and began to growl and bark at it. Victor noticed that there was a large hole in the tree about seven feet from the ground, and that his dog apparently wanted to enter it. Victor lifted his dog up and watched it scurry into the hole.
Suddenly, a muffled cry issued from within the tree. Victor raised his rifle, thinking that his dog had encountered a bear. Sure enough, something large crawled out of the hole and fell to the ground. Instinctively, Victor took a shot at it- an action which he immediately regretted, for there at his feet sprawled a bleeding, naked, black-haired Caucasian boy of about twelve of fourteen years of age.
Horrified, Victor dropped his rifle and approached the boy to examine the extent of his injury. He saw that he had shot the boy in the leg, but before he had a chance to dress the wound, the boy cried out as if appealing for help from the forest.
“From across the mountain a long way off,” Victor said “rolled a booming voice.” Shortly thereafter, Victor heard the voice again, this time a little closer. The boy screamed again, as if in reply.
Although he was scared out of his wits, Victor’s conscience would not allow him to abandon the boy he had wounded. He waited on the plateau, his dog whimpering fearfully at his feet, while the boy guided his mysterious sylvan savoir to his location. “Less than a half-hour,” said Victor, “out of the depth of the forest came the strangest and wildest creature one could possibly see…”
“The hairy creature,” he continued, “for that was what it was, walked toward me without the slightest fear. The wild person was a woman. Her face was almost Negro black and her long straight hair fell to her waist. In height she would be about six feet, but her chest and shoulders were well above the average in breadth.”
Victor told Graves that, although he had already met several wildmen by this time, he had never seen anyone quite so savage in appearance as this woman. “I’m sure that if that wild woman laid hands on me,” Victor said, “she’d break every bone in my body.”
The creature glanced at the boy before rounding on Victor, her face contorted with rage. Then, something truly remarkable happened. Using St’at’imcets, the tongue of the Douglas First Nation (a branch of the Lillooet tribe whose members lived at the northern end of Harrison Lake), the wild woman snarled, “You have shot my friend!”
Victor, who knew the Douglas language, replied that he had mistaken the boy for a bear, and that he was sorry. Ignoring him, the wild woman proceeded to dance around the boy, chanting the word “yahoo” in a loud voice. Every time she vociferated, a similar reply came from the mountain.
Soon, the wild woman was joined by another creature like her, who carried a six-foot-long cord which Victor suspected was either a snake or the intestine of some animal. “But whatever it was,” he said, “she constantly struck the ground with it.”
At the end of this strange ceremony, the second wild woman effortlessly picked up the boy with one hairy hand. That accomplished, she turned towards Charley Victor, pointed the cord at him, and said, “Siwash, you’ll never kill another bear.” With that, the wild women and the boy disappeared into the woods.”
With tears in his eyes, Charley Victor admitted to J.W. Burns that, indeed, had had not shot a bear nor any other animal since that fateful day.
The Wild Man of Agassiz, B.C.
Another wildman story which J.W. Burns included in his article derives from a letter which Burns received from a young native man from Vancouver named William (or perhaps Herbert) Point.
According to the letter, Point and a native girl named Adaline August decided to pick wild hops one day in late September 1927, in the wilderness near Agassiz, B.C. When they were finished, they returned to August’s father’s orchard by way of the railroad track. Along the way, August noticed something walking along the tracks in their direction.
“I looked up,” wrote Point, “but paid no attention to it, as I thought it was some person on his way to Agassiz. But as he came closer we noticed that his appearance was very odd, and on coming still closer we stood still and were astonished, seeing that the creature was naked and covered with hair like an animal.” Nearly scared stiff, Point picked up two stones with which he intended to hit the creature if it decided to attack him or August.
“He was twice as big as the average man,” Point wrote of the creature, “with hands so long that they almost touched the ground. It seemed to me that his eyes were very large and the lower part of his nose was wide and spread over the greater part of his face…”
Terrified at the creature’s appearance, the teenagers ran all the way to Agassiz. There, they told the story of their encounter to a group of natives who were enjoying themselves after a day of berry-picking. The elders there informed them that the creature belonged to a race of hairy giants who had always lived in the mountains, making their homes in tunnels and caves.
Etymology of the Word “Sasquatch”
There are two factors which make J.W. Burns’ 1929 article in Maclean’s magazine especially remarkable. The first is that, in Charley Victor’s tale of the wild woman of Hatzic, the wild woman around whom the story revolves demonstrated the ability to speak, incidentally in the dialect of the Douglas First Nation. To the best of this author’s knowledge, this is the first of only two stories in which a North American wildman is purported to speak.
The second factor which makes Burns’ 1929 article truly remarkable is that is widely believed to be the first instance in which the word “Sasquatch” appears in print. Although there are older articles which reference the wildmen of the Pacific Northwest, Burns’ is the supposedly the first to actually refer to these creatures as “Sasquatch”- the name we know them by today.
The Accepted Explanation
Most sources which purport to explain the etymology of “Sasquatch” claim that the word is Burns’ Anglophonic perversion of the word “Sasq’ets”- a Halkomelem word meaning “hairy mountain man” (Halkomelem is a Coast Salish language spoken by the Chehalis, the Skwah, and other indigenous groups from the Fraser Delta).
Gian J. Quasar’s Theory
One researcher named Gian J. Quasar put forth an interesting alternative theory regarding the origin of the word “Sasquatch” in his book Recasting Bigfoot. Without citing any evidence to back his assertion, he claimed that the word “Sasquatch” was really a combination of two words: “Saskahaua”, and “Kinchotch”. “Saskahaua”, Quasar claimed, was the British Columbian district for which J.W. Burns became Indian agent. And “Kinchotch”, as Quasar correctly pointed out, is a Chinook Jargon term meaning “English”, which derived from the words “King George” (Chinook Jargon is an old pidgin trade language from the Pacific Northwest). According to Quasar, the Coast Salish Indians from the Fraser Delta area referred to hairy wildmen as “Saskahaua Kinchotch”- literally “Englishmen from Saskahaua”. J.W. Burns, Quasar claims, contracted this phrase into the simpler word “Sasquatch”.
There is one major problem with Quasar’s theory: to the best of this author’s knowledge, there was never a “Saskahaua” district in British Columbia.
A Closer Look at Burns’ Article
A closer look at J.W. Burns’ 1929 article reveals that the truth behind the origin of the word “Sasquatch” may have evaded both Gian Quasar and mainstream etymologists. In his article, Burns quotes Skwah Indian Charley Victor as saying of B.C.’s hairy giants:
“The strange people, of whom there are but few now- rarely seen and seldom met… are known by the name of Sasquatch, or, ‘the hairy mountain men’.”
Even more importantly, Burns later quotes directly from a letter written by William Point, the young native man from Vancouver who saw a wildman on the railroad tracks near Agassiz. An excerpt from this letter reads:
“Old Indians who were present said: the wild man was no doubt a ‘Sasquatch,’ a tribe of hairy people whom they claim have always lived in the mountains- in tunnels and caves.”
Assuming that Burns faithfully recorded these lines as they were said and written, it appears that the word “Sasquatch” may actually be an old Halkomelem word (or, at the very least, William Point’s interpretation of the Chehalis word for B.C.’s hairy wildmen) and not some invention of J.W. Burns’.
The Story Behind the Sasquatch Mountain Resort
At the beginning of this article, we mentioned that Mount Keenan (formerly Mount Morris), home of the Sasquatch Mountain Resort, is the birthplace of the word “Sasquatch”. Indeed, it is the setting of the first story of Burns’ article, in which Chehalis man Peter Williams had a brush with an angry Sasquatch at the mountain’s base.
In 1940, Burns wrote another even more dramatic story of a Sasquatch encounter on Mount Keenan which is perhaps the most extraordinary Sasquatch story ever written. This tale is so remarkable that it deserves an article all to itself. If this interests you, please check in with us next week to discover the incredible story behind the naming of the Sasquatch Mountain Resort.
Further Delving Into the Fascinating Life of J W Burns, from the June 2017 issue of the BCSCC (British Columbia Scientific Cryptozoology Club) Quarterly, courtesy of American Fortean researcher Mr. Gary S. Mangiacopra.
Introducing B.C.’s Hairy Giants: A collection of strange tales about British Columbia’s wild men as told by those who say they have seen them, by J.W. Burns in the April 1, 1929 issue of the magazine Maclean’s.
Recasting Bigfoot (2010), by Gian J. Quasar
Abominable Snowmen: Legend Come to Life (1961), Ivan T. Sanderson
Are They the Last Cavemen? British Columbia Startled by the Appearance of ‘Sasquatch’, a Strange Race of Hairy Giants, in the July 29, 1934 issue of the Sunday Journal and Star (Lincoln, Nebraska), by Francis Dickie
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How the Sasquatch Got Its Name was last modified: July 24th, 2018 by Hammerson Peters
Canadian history is riddled with strange stories of “mentalists” who, through the use of some mysterious inherent quality, make accurate predictions based on past events of which they ought to have no knowledge.
Today, I’m pleased to bring you a similar story which was brought to my attention by my friend Mr. Gary S. Mangiacopra, an American researcher with a passion for unexplained phenomena. Without further ado, here is the incredible true story of a Saskatchewan farmer who lost his life at the dawn of the Dirty Thirties, and of the incredible clairvoyant who helped bring his killer to justice.
If you drive an hour and twenty minutes northeast of Swift Current, you’ll come to the lonely little village of Beechy, Saskatchewan. Today, this tiny community’s most famous attractions are the Beechy Sandcastles- bizarre-looking, wind-sculpted sandstone formations which overlook the “Lake Diefenbaker” section of the South Saskatchewan River. Ninety years ago, however, this strange little place in the middle of the Saskatchewan prairies was the site of an even stranger mystery involving two Mounties, a mentalist, and a brutal murder.
Professor Henry Gladstone
Our story begins on the eve of December 10, 1930, in Beechy’s little movie theatre. It was Wednesday night, and in order to help the local farmers and their families beat the mid-week winter blues, the establishment’s proprietor had brought in a mind-reader from Saskatoon. His name was Professor Henry Gladstone.
Professor Gladstone was a tall, sombre-eyed gentleman with silver hair and a piercing gaze. He stood gravely on the stage, his hands clasped behind his back, and asked for volunteers to assist him with his act. Soon, the good folks of Beechy were roaring with laughter as grey-bearded old-timers and fresh-faced farm kids performed all manner of hilarious antics under Gladstone’s hypnotic direction.
Suddenly, the elderly mentalist stopped in the middle of his act and pointed his finger at a genial rancher named Bill Taylor. “You there,” he said solemnly. “The man you’re thinking about… he was a good friend of yours, wasn’t he?”
Immediately, a hush fell over the crowd, and the colour drained from Taylor’s face. The rancher nodded slowly, mutely affirming that the mentalist had read his mind.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, son,” Gladstone continued, “but he was murdered. Brutally murdered! There was blood on the snow.”
Suddenly, the mentalist pointed at another audience member- Constable Charles Edward Carey, an RCMP officer dressed in plainclothes. “That’s him!” Gladstone proclaimed. “That’s the man.”
Constable Carey sat up in his chair, startled. His shooting hand instinctively dropped to the butt of the revolver that was holstered at his side.
“That’s the one,” Gladstone continued, “who will find the body of the murdered man. And I’ll be with him when he does!”
The Disappearance of Scotty McLachlan
Constable Charles Carey knew from the moment Bill Taylor nodded his head that the man he had been thinking of- the man whom Gladstone said was murdered- could only be Scotty McLachlan, one of Taylor’s close friends.
James Stewart “Scotty” McLachlan was a local rancher who once owned a plot of land in an area known as Coteau Plains. Nearly three years earlier, he had sold his land and most of his belongings to his partner, a 23-year-old farmer named John Franck Schumacher. Shortly thereafter, in January 1928, he suddenly and inexplicably vanished.
At the behest of his relatives, the RCMP launched an investigation into Scotty McLachlan’s disappearance. Several local farmers recalled that McLachlan, in the weeks preceding his disappearance, had often spoken of leaving Saskatchewan for British Columbia. His partner, Schumacher, also informed them that, several days before his disappearance, McLachlan had packed his gear as if in preparation for a great journey. Try as they might, however, the Mounties could find no trace of Scotty McLachlan nor any evidence suggesting he had made a westward journey. Without any leads to follow, they dropped the case. The mystery of Scotty McLachlan’s strange disappearance had haunted the village of Beechy, Saskatchewan, ever since.
Following Professor Gladstone’s eerie revelation, Constable Carey phoned up Detective-Corporal Jack Woods of the RCMP’s Criminal Investigation Bureau. Woods, who operated out of Saskatoon at that time, was a hard-nosed detective who hardly believed in the possibility of extrasensory perception. A lead was a lead, though, and Woods desperately wanted to get to the bottom of the McLachlan mystery- a black mark on his otherwise spotless record. The detective shrugged into his heavy buffalo-skin coat, started up his squad car, and headed down the snow-packed Whitecap Trail for Beechy.
The following day, after a brief meeting in the Beechy barracks, Detective-Corporal Woods and Constable Carey interviewed a number of locals, starting with the visiting Professor Gladstone. Gladstone told the Mounties that he had read Bill Taylor’s mind via some sort of Second Sight, the nature of which he did not fully understand himself. He claimed that he knew Scotty McLachlan was murdered, having received a vision of his bloody corpse in the snow, but did not yet know the identity of his killer. “Allow me to accompany you,” the mentalist insisted. “I will know him when I see him.” Begrudgingly, the Mounties obliged.
Next, Woods and Carey began questioning local farmers and ranchers. After several interviews, a pattern began to emerge. Many of the sod-busters and cowhands who plied their trade in the Beechy area suspected that Scotty McLachlan’s disappearance had something to do with a pretty farm girl for whose affection he had competed with a local wrangler. Shortly after McLachlan’s disappearance, his rival proposed to the girl, and in no time the two were happily married.
The Mounties paid a visit to the cowboy in question, who told them another tale entirely. He readily admitted that he and McLachlan had not seen eye to eye, and had engaged a number of impassioned disagreements over the years. But McLachlan’s real enemy, he maintained, was his partner, Schumacher, with whom he’d often had violent quarrels. Another local farmer once told him in confidence that Schumacher “called on him one morning madder n’ hell and said he’d kill the damned Scotsman one of these days.”
Woods and Carey, accompanied by the tall, taciturn Professor Gladstone, then paid a visit to the farmer of whom the cowboy had spoken. Seated around the man’s kitchen table with mugs of steaming coffee in their hands, the Mounties asked the rustic if he recalled hearing Schumacher make death threats against McLachlan. The farmer denied having any recollection of the incident, and brushed off the cowboy’s tale as a baseless country canard.
The Mounties thanked the farmer for his time and headed for the door when Professor Gladstone spoke up from out of the shadows. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said sternly. “You were sick in bed. Schumacher pushed through the door, told you he’d had a quarrel with his partner, and swore he’d kill that damned Scotty before he was through with him.”
Stunned, the slack-jawed farmer sank back into his chair. “You’re right,” he admitted after a long pause. “Schumacher came to my place, like you said, cussed his partner and said he’d kill that damned Scotchman yet. But how on earth did you know?”
Woods, Carey, and Gladstone left the bewildered farmer and made for the farmhouse of John Schumacher in nearby Coteau Plains. By the time they reached the gravel road that led to Schumacher’s property, it was evening. The sun kissed the horizon in the west, painting the clouds above in a glowing gradient of crimson and violet that set fire to the prairie sky.
Soon, Schumacher’s two-storied farmhouse and red barn rose up from the surrounding snow. An overall-clad farmhand greeted the lawmen at the door and informed them that Schumacher had gone to town for gasoline, and would probably be arriving shortly.
“We’re water-diviners from the Department of Agriculture,” Detective Woods lied. “Mind if we take a look around?”
“Suit yourself, boys,” the farmhand said with a dismissive wave.
The three men tramped around in the snow outside Schumacher’s farmhouse, gradually making their way across a field and up a hill towards a red-painted barn. Suddenly, when they were about half way up the slope, Professor Gladstone stopped and sniffed the air. “There’s something strange around here,” he finally declared. “A peculiar odor.”
“Sure is,” said Woods, grinning as he kicked away the snow beneath his feet to reveal a pile of frozen manure. “You’ll find it wherever there’s a bunch of cows.”
“There’s been trouble here for Scotty McLachlan,” Gladstone continued, ignoring the Mountie. “His body is around here somewhere. I can feel it.”
John Franck Schumacher
By this time, it was getting dark, and the Mounties had no time to verify the mentalist’s assertion. The three men returned to the squad car and headed back down the road to Beechy.
All of a sudden, a huge truck loomed in the car’s high beams, thundering down the road towards them without any headlights on. Woods managed to avoid a head-on collision by swerving into the ditch, nearly flipping the squad car in the process. The truck roared on past, leaving a cloud of dust and exhaust in its wake.
Without skipping a beat, Woods turned the squad car around and tore after the truck. He soon overtook it and pulled it over, and there are the wheel was John Schumacher. “You’re the guy we’re looking for,” said Woods. “We want to talk to you about your partner, Scotty!”
“OK,” the farmer mumbled, “I’ll see what I can tell you.”
That night, Woods and Carey interrogated Schumacher at the Beechy barracks, mercilessly barraging him with questions regarding the days leading up to his partner’s disappearance. Schumacher provided the same answers he had three years prior, maintaining that his partner had packed up and probably left for British Columbia. “I paid McLachlin $150 for his horse and cattle and gave him a note for another $200 for the rest of the stuff.”
Just as Woods was about to terminate the interview, Professor Gladstone, who had been standing quietly in the shadows, began to pace about the room, his hand stroking his wrinkled forehead. Finally, he snapped his fingers and turned towards Schumacher.
“The barn!” he exclaimed. “The barn!” The mentalist planted his hands on the table and fixed his eyes on the astonished farmer. “I’ll tell you just what happened,” he said, slowly working himself up into a frenzy. “Scotty left the house… went over to the barn. You followed him. Forced him into a quarrel.”
Schumacher squirmed in his chair.
“There was a fight,” Gladstone continued, perspiration trickling down his face. “Scotty fell, and you struck, and struck, and struck… Then you buried his body near the barn.” With that, the elderly Professor collapsed into a chair, exhausted.
When Detective Woods and Constable Carey satisfied themselves that the old man would recover from his outburst, they turned their attention towards Schumacher. The farmer was white as a ghost, his countenance conveying superstitious horror.
“Better tell us what you know about this business, John,” said Carey, struggling to mask his own astonishment. “It’ll make it a whole lot easier.”
After staring at the mentalist for some time, Schumacher shook his head. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” he whispered.
“Have it your way,” said Woods. Turning to Carey, he said, “Put him in the cell. We’ll bring charges against him in the morning.”
Early the following morning, Woods, Carey, and Gladstone, equipped with shovels, escorted Schumacher to his own barn. They found the place crawling with spectators. Word of Schumacher’s arrest, it seemed, had reached the ears of the Beechy locals.
On the way to the barn, Gladstone stopped at the same place he had the previous evening. “Beneath that manure pile,” he said to the Mounties, “you’ll find what’s left of Scotty.”
Woods and Carey looked at each other and shrugged. Although neither of them could bring themselves to fully believe in the efficacy of the mentalist’s strange gift, they decided to put his theory to the test. They made good use of the bystanders by having them chip away at the frozen manure pile and the solid earth beneath with picks and shovels.
For nearly two hours, the farmers toiled fruitlessly. Finally, just as the Mounties were about to pack it in, one of the labourers let out a cry. The man plunged his shovel into a nearby snowbank, went down on his hands and knees, and wrested a woolen sock from the frozen earth.
The excavation continued at a feverish pace, and in no time, a complete human skeleton dressed in ragged winter clothing, with matted hair and dried flesh still clinging to the skull, was liberated from its icy tomb. “That’s Scotty, all right!” said a farmer who had watched spectacle unfold. “I’d know that scarf and mackinaw anywhere.”
That night, John Schumacher was subjected to another grilling by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, this time in the jail at Saskatoon. After a long, gruelling interrogation, he finally broke down and confessed that he had, indeed killed Scotty McLachlan in his barn, just as Professor Gladstone said.
On the morning of January 16, 1928, Schumacher told the Mounties, Scotty had returned to the farm after being away all night. He had packed his personal effects, and stated that he was leaving for the Pacific Coast. The two partners
engaged in an altercation revolving around the money that Schumacher owed McLachlan. The argument turned violent when Scotty lunged at Schumacher with a shovel. In self-defence, Schumacher seized a pitchfork that was resting against the barn wall and ran his partner through.
Realizing the enormity of his crime, a guilt-ridden Schumacher retreated to the farmhouse, where he spent an hour and a half contemplating his next course of action. Finally, he returned to the barn, where he checked Scotty’s pulse and found him dead. He dragged his partner’s corpse by one arm to a site about fifty metres from the barn and 150 yards from his house. He buried the body there, on the side of a hill. He threw straw over the corpse, and later covered it with manure, to which he added from time to time.
In March, 1931, John Franck Schumacher was tried for the murder of James Stewart “Scotty” McLachlan. The proceedings took place in the courtroom of Kindersley, Saskatchewan. Disagreement over the significance of triple fractures to McLachlan’s skull saved Schumacher from the gallows. Ultimately, the jury decided that Schumacher had killed McLachlan in self-defence. The farmer was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to seven years in the penitentiary at Prince Albert, Saskatchewan.
Newspapers indicate that John Schumacher was married, and that his wife gave birth to his first child during his trial.
And what of Professor Gladstone? An article in the February 2, 1931 issue of the Winnipeg Tribune suggests that the mentalist’s uncanny gift may have temporarily deserted him. About a month before Schumacher’s trial, an arsonist set fire to Gladstone’s apartment in Saskatoon. The elderly clairvoyant’s adventure in Beechy had made him gravely ill, and a bedridden Gladstone had to be carried from the inferno by a fireman and a police officer onto the nearby street.
Professor Henry Gladstone lost about $10,000-worth of personal belongings in the fire that consumed his apartment building. It appeared, however, that he may have also regained his mysterious ability, as he correctly predicted that a body would be found in the ashes.
“How a Mentalist Solved a Murder”, from the January 1959 issue of the magazine Fate, by Philip H. Godsell; courtesy of American Fortean researcher Mr. Gary S. Mangiacopra.
“Mind Reader Aids to Solve Murder: Indicates Where Body of Main, Slain in 1928, Lies,” from the December 16, 1939 issue of The [Montreal] Gazette.
“Mind Reader Leads Police to Body of Buried Man”, from December 15, 1930 issue of the St. Cloud Times.
“Fire Destroys $150,000 Block in Saskatoon: Occupants Escape in Night Attire With Aid of Fireman, Police,” from the February 2, 1931 issue of The Winnipeg Tribune.
“Sask. Farmer Accused of Murder Arraigned,” from the December 16, 1930 issue of the Manitoba Free Press.
“Schumacher To Be Tried For Murder: Coteau Hills Farmer Committed on Charge of Slaying His Partner,” from the December 31, 1930 issue of the Winnipeg Free Press.
“Mind-Reader’s ‘Murder Done’ Solves Mystery: Police Unearth Half-Garbed Skeleton of Murdered Man”, from the December 15, 1930 issue of The Ottawa Journal.
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The Mounties, the Mentalist, and the Murderer was last modified: July 9th, 2018 by Hammerson Peters
The Klondike Gold Rush is, without a doubt, one of the most famous events in Canadian history. This brief but exhilarating period saw thousands of men and women from all over the world flock to the Yukon goldfields in search of fortune and adventure. It spawned outrageous villains like “Soapy” Smith, and bred celebrated Canadian heroes like Sam Steele. The Klondike Gold Rush inspired the poems of Robert Service, the novels of Jack London, and the films of Charlie Chaplin. It gave birth to the Northwestern genre, and changed the face of the Canadian North forever.
Here at Mysteries of Canada, we’ve put together a six-part series detailing the history of this great Canadian event.
The first part of our series describes the context behind the Klondike Gold Rush. First, it outlines the geography of the Yukon, the territory in which the Klondike is located. Next, it pinpoints the exact location of the Klondike region in this vast northwestern territory. Finally, it details the history of the Yukon pioneers who panned for gold in the Canadian Northwest long before gold was struck in the Klondike.
The second part of our series describes the discoveries made by Robert Henderson, George Carmack, and “Skookum” Jim Mason in the summer of 1896. These three prospectors discovered gold nuggets in the Klondike, sparking a small local gold rush.
The third part of our series details the small local gold rush that resulted from the discoveries of 1896. First, it describes the handful of lucky pioneers who wrested fortunes from the Klondike’s creek beds. After that, it describes the founding of Dawson City, a rough mining camp situated at the confluence of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers. In time, Dawson would become the centre of the Klondike Gold Rush.
The fourth part of our series outlines the true beginning of the Klondike Gold Rush. First, we describe how prospecting pioneers returned to civilization from the Klondike bearing fortunes in raw northern gold. Following these prospectors’ triumphant returns, restless men and women from all over Seattle and San Francisco prepared to set out for the Klondike, rallying to the cry of “Klondike or bust!”. Enterprising businessmen took advantage of the opportunity and marketed their wares as “Klondike grade”.
After that, we describe the rise of the towns of Skagway and Dyea on the Lynn Canal. We also detail the White Pass and the Chilkoot Trail, two major trails over the Coast Mountains over which Stampeders would travel on their way to the Klondike.
The fifth part of our series describes the various trails that Stampeders took to get to the Klondike. The most famous of these is the Bennett-Dawson Trail. Stampeders who took this route travelled from the Lynn Canal over the Coast Mountains by way of the White Pass or the Chilkoot Trail. On the other side of the divide, on the shores of Lake Bennett, they built canoes from green lumber. When spring breakup came, they paddled across Lake Bennett and down a succession of lakes and rivers to Dawson City.
Other trails to the Klondike include the grueling Ashcroft Trail up British Columbia; the arduous “All-Canadian” overland route from Edmonton, Alberta; the suicidal “All-American” route over the crevasse-ridden Valdez and Malaspina Glaciers; and the St. Michael Trail up the Yukon River from its mouth.
Our sixth and final post on the Klondike Gold Rush describes Dawson City, around which the rush revolved. It details the colourful characters who populated the boom town, whose exploits are now the stuff of legend. Finally, our series ends with a commentary on the legacy of the Klondike Gold Rush.
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The Klondike Gold Rush was last modified: August 15th, 2018 by Hammerson Peters