New Address

This blog now has a new address. From the Islander can now be found at

http://victoriahistory.ca/blog/

From now on, all my posts will appear here.

Also, the Islander data base is now on line! It will continue to grow as I continue to archive, and currently contains data from over 2000 articles.

It can be found here

Random Ghost Towns of BC: Port Kusam

Hkusam Mountain

A brief article by Islander author Eugene Cameron.

Port Kusam was established in 1895 and is located in a just south of the mouth of the Salmon River on Johnstone Straight.

The Ruby House at Port Kusam opened in 1898. It operated as a store, saloon, post office, and hotel until 1921, at which time it was bought by a family from Victoria for use as a place of residence.

A Union Steam Ship stopped in the straight to off-load supplies, a rowboat would bring the cargo to Port Kusam.

The Ruby House has long been abandoned. Its usefulness came to an end as families came to settle in the area and built their homes along the Salmon River in the Sayward Valley and docking facilities were built at Kelsey Bay

First to Arrive Fought the Fire

The Victoria Fire Department on the scene

Fires were a constant threat in early Victoria. Before the Victoria Fire Department was ever officially formed, the city had a three different private fire fighting companies, who each competed with each other every time there was a fire.

The Deluge Company Fire Hall

The first to be formed was the Union Hook and Ladder Co. in 1859. A year later, two other companies were formed, the Deluge Engine Co. No. 1, which was made up of British residents, and 18 days later, the Tiger Engine Co. No. 2, which was made up of Americans. To identify itself, each company flew its own flag, and the first company to a fire claimed the right to put it out.

As can well be imagined, feuds were common between the competing fire companies, Islander author T.W. Patterson relates memories from some of Victoria’s earliest fire fighters.

In those days…the name of the game was “first water” that is, the company which made the first splash of water on the fire won the right to fight it. At which time, according to the code of ethics, the other company was to bow out of the picture.

We offer the following reminiscences of a Victoria Fire Chief who, half a century ago, recalled one of the more memorable blazes he attended:

” I remember one night, a bitterly cold night it was, with the snow deep on the ground, It was in ’73. There was a big fire on Langley Street in a building owned by Dr. Matthews.

“The Tiger [Company] was the first to reach the conflagration and laid the hose down the street A few minutes later the Deluge arrived and attached to their engine. The men of the Tiger engine, infuriated at such an act, demanded that it should be taken from the Deluge and attached to their engine. The Deluge men refused. Then started such a fight as I’ve ever seen or participated in.

We went at it hammer and tongs stumbling about in the snow. Nobody thought of the fire. It burned itself out.

The Tiger Companies' engine, which was "borrowed" by the men of the Deluge Company.

It was on this occasion that an excited onlooker fell into the cistern. He was hauled out with a hook. His clothes were ruined and he got a bad cold. Later he wrote a letter to the department demanding compensation.”

Spectators were a common complication at the scenes of many fires.

One of the more unusual features of early day firefighting was the fact that fires were not only major news events, but social events as well. Everyone, it seems, turned out to watch the brigades at work. Unfortunately, however, few Victorians were content to be mere spectators; all wanted to advise the fire fighters on how to do their jobs. Consequentially, the firemen often became irritated to the point that they would ask a policeman to insist that these sidewalk superintendents either shut up or go home.

A few days after the Langley street fire, the letter was read before the company executives “amid profound silence”

Upon hearing it, one of the officers present at the fire stood up to say that the complainant had been warned to stand back, and “I move that this man be told to go—–.” Moments later, the the motion was seconded and carried by unanimous vote

In spite of the apparent incompetence and ineffectiveness of the early fire companies, in 1923 85 year old former fire chief Joe Wrigglesworth claimed “Believe me, we had finer men in the department than you can get now; more willing, more amenable to discipline, quicker and better in every way.”

Victoria’s Grand Old Man of the Cloth

Bishop Cridge in his later years.

Religion played an important role in the society of colonial Victoria. Perhaps the most important, and well known and controversial church men of the colony was Bishop Edward Cridge. A fixture in early Victoria, Cridge first arrived on the island  as the first chaplain of the HBC Fort. Islander author Leonard Myers, describes the life and times of Bishop Cridge.

Edward Cridge was born in Bratton, Devonshire England, Dec. 17, 1817. he was a graduate of Cambridge University, as well as one time assistant master at Oundle grammar school in Northhamptonshire. In 1851, he was appointed rector of Christ Church in Westham, London, and three years later, in 1854, he was invited to come to the colony of Vancouver Island as chaplain of the Church of England to the Hudson’s Bay Company in a young frontier settlement.

A much younger Edward Cridge

With his new bride[Mary], he arrived in the outpost of Victoria via sailing ship on April 1, 1855, and held his first service in the HBC fort.

Passing his theological examination and ordained in Cambridge, England, the young Reverend Cridge and his equally young wife must, upon arrival in the new world, have been endowed with infinite faith and a healthy optimism when, after leaving their comfortable home in a civilized and cultured society not lacking in the amenities of life, saw for the first time the sparse, rough and ready environment which was to be their new home.

A year after Cridge came to Victoria, a real church was built, and completed in 1856. Named Christ Church, after Cridge’s old parish in Westham, the wood frame building stood until 1869 when it was destroyed by a fire. The new church was rebuilt on land donated by Governor Sir James Douglas, this was Cridge’s ”spiritual home”, until he left the Church of England. Meyers describes what came to be known as the “Cridge-Hills Dispute”.

Dean Cridge, along with a contemporary of his, Bishop Cummins, openly dissented and spawned a congregational revolt through which the “Reform” denomination was brought into prominence at the expense of his own pioneer church.

Dean Cridge, it seems…objected to certain changes in the ritual and liturgy of the Church of England, and it was argued by him that the “Reformed Church” was more in keeping with the creed and observance of the church in its original form, including the use of the English prayer-book, while, at the same time, dispensing with certain aspects of the formal service and rituals resembling to closely those of the Roman Catholic Church.

Soon the fat was in the brimstone. This came about when Dean Cridge, critical of a sermon dealing with traditional ritualistic practices delivered by a visiting cleric at Christ Church, was moved to proclaim at the close of the service that such practices and doctrines would never be countenanced at Christ Church as long as he was its rector.

Bishop George Hills

In short order, following the the dean’s post-pulpit pronouncement, an ecclesiastical court was convened, Dean Cridge was found guilty of “brawling in church” and stripped by Bishop Hills of his license to preach as a minister of the Church of England. And the doer of kindly deeds was unceremoniously sacked to the chagrin of his faithful flock.

Before taking his leave from Christ Church Cridge stated:

“My Dearly beloved friends, it is with great shame and humility that as a matter of conscience I feel it is my duty to say a few words to you before we part.  As your pastor, after what we have just heard I feel it is my duty to raise my voice in protest against it.  During the 17 years that I have officiated as your pastor in this spot, this is the first time ritualism has been preached here, and I pray Almighty God it may be the last.  So far as I can prevent it, it shall be the last.”

An appeal was launched to the civil courts, and the errant Dean was called upon by Mister Justice Begbie to apologized to Bishop Hills. Dean Cridge eventually complied but not before he changed his allegiance and joined the Reformed Episcopal church[of America], and [was] consecrated as the first Bishop in 1876.

The Church of Our Lord, Reformed Episcopal Church in Canada today.

There must have been poetic justice in the maverick man-of-the-cloth following his defrocking and secession, as he brought most of his congregation, including very prominent [members], such as Sir James Douglas, Senator W.J. MacDonald, Judges Pemberton and Elliot, Charles Hayward, Dr. John Sebastian Helmcken  and Joseph P. Pemberton with him to his new parish.

Residing in his home on Carr street, named Marifield after his wife, Cridge served his congregation and community for more than 35 years. Cridge was involved in the founding of the YWCA in Victoria as well as Central High School. He also became instrumental in establishing Victoria’s first hospital, and the Protestant Orphans Home in 1873. He died in Victoria in May of 1913 at the ripe old age of 96.

Additional Source:  http://web.uvic.ca/vv/student/orphans/founders.html

Tea Among the Trees

The Japanese Tea House.

In the 1920′s and 30′s, Victoria’s Gorge Waterway was the place to be in the summer. Along with swimming and boating, one of the most popular attractions at was what was then B.C. Electric Gorge Park and is now Kinsmen Park, was the Japanese Tea Gardens. The Garden was built in 1907 by Isaburo Kishida, and operated until 1941, when the Takada family who ran it were sent to an internment camp in the Kootenays and it was destroyed by vandals.

Islander author Les Priestly describes the tea gardens.

The Japanese Tea Gardens was a concession of B.C. Electric Railway Co., operated by a Japanese family, approximately where the Kiwanis Park is now.

It was a popular place, with oriental shrubs, little arched bridges over trickling water, and tables where customers could enjoy the tea and sandwiches.

On an upper level, at the back were games of chance, including crown and anchor.

Outside the enclosure trails wound among the trees, one designated “Ladies” another “Gents”.

The Path along the water was illuminated at night by lights strung through the trees which seemed to twinkle to anyone in a passing car on the other side of the Gorge.

In August of 1929, Priestly and his family had a memorable day the park.

The Gorge Streetcar made a loop at the park entrance, about opposite the Gorge Hotel, but Dad decided on a more interesting way of getting there. He rented a clinker-built in the inner harbour and rowed along the waterway.

The first part of the route wasn’t very attractive, what with sawmills, rusting whale boats, and some wharves already in need of repair.

It must have been a slack tide when we glided through the Gorge itself as we were scarcely noted by the few people on the bridge above.

At the small sandy beach beyond the gardens, we tied the boat to a tree and stretched out a beach blanket. Lying there looking up at the canopy of blue and the odd white cloud, we chatted casually and almost fell asleep.

Someone suggested tea and we got to our feet and sauntered along the path to the garden entrance. We spent some time walking around, admiring its features, then chose a table and sat down. After tea there was desultory adult conversation that  seemed to bore [my younger brother] Kenny who wandered off toward the bridge. He soon returned exclaiming “The river’s running quite fast under the bridge. Thats funny ’cause it was slow when we came through.”

The Gorge Bridge.

The words galvanized my dad into action. He took off in the direction of the bridge, but quickly returned saying: “We’d better get the rowboat through as soon as we can. The tide’s coming in and the currents getting swifter.”

He found a dead sapling and trimmed it with his pocket knife to make a pole. As people began to realize what dad was going to do, a crowd gathered on the bridge, including a policeman who gestured to him not to attempt what he thought was a foolhardy act. Dad, however displaying his usual stubbornness, was determined to try, and, with [my sister] Kay at the oars and he manipulating the makeshift pole, they made it through the gorge.

I remember attributing this at the time to dad’s courage and twenty odd years of river experience. Later when I was older, I realized there was another factor, dad’s frugality. He had rented the boat at a rate, which I think was 25 cents an hour…Perhaps he felt the day had cost enough.

Amazing Escape from Doomed Grappler

Ss Grappler

In early British Columbia, nautical disasters were common occurrences.One of the 120 vessels sunk or damaged in the Seymour Narrows off of Vancouver Island was the Grappler,a former colonial navy gunboat turned cargo freighter, which sank on April 28th 1883, near Duncan Bay. Islander author T.W. Patterson describes Grappler’s fate.

Her captain was  John T. Jaegers, a seasoned mariner and well known local captain. In the article, Patterson provides some background details about the captain. After arriving in Victoria aboard the vessel Gondolier in the late 1870′s, Jaegers acted as mate aboard the Hudson’s Bay Company steamer Beaver under Captain J.D. Warren, until he himself was given command of the ship, which he captained for a further three years. After more than twenty years as a mariner on the B.C. coast, he was forced to retire from his command of the Canadian Pacific Navigation Company Steamer R.P. Rithet, when he was diagnosed with cancer. He succumbed to the disease, and “crossed the bar” in September of 1898.

However, in April of 1883, Jaegers was in command of the ill-fated  freighter Grappler and carrying a load of gunpowder, cannery supplies and a 100 chinese cannery workers on a return trip from Naniamo. Soon after the Grappler left Naniamo trouble started.

Late that night, the Grappler passed Duncan Bay in calm seas. All was peaceful until engineer William Steele smelled smoke. Moments later, he passed the terrifying word to Capt. Jaegers that there was a fire in the forward hold.

By the time Jaegers and his mate, John Smith, were able to have coal cleared from ‘tweendecks thereby enabling them to reach the forward hold, they knew that the fire was well established. After ordering that all hatches be sealed, Captain Jaegers returned from the wheel house and gave four, sharp blasts from his whistle in the vain hope that someone ashore might be alerted to the Grapplers danger.

Then, as mate Smith and a deckhand attempted to fight the blaze with a single hose, Jaegers tried to head the dying steamer towards shore.

In spite of the captain and crew’s best efforts both attempts to avert the catastrophe failed. When the steering cables broke, the ship went out of control, steering spasmodically all by itself. This caused it to gain speed, which in turn fanned the flames and caused the Grappler to become a blazing inferno. The Colonist reported:

“The heavy engines, racing at full speed, were siding with the work of death and destruction by forcing the doomed craft through the water with a rapidity which made the lowering of a boat an impossibility. If one reached the water without swamping, the crazed Chinese at once loaded it with rice and personal effects, on top of which they piled in such numbers that it immediately went down.”

In the last few moments before the ship sank, Captain Jaegers resolutely remained at his post, he was forced to flee only when the forward deck of the Grappler collapsed. At the very last moment he jumped over the side and swam as hard as he could for the shore.

His ordeal was not ended, as the tide “carr[ied] him down [the shoreline] at a frightful rate, but at last with a despairing effort he reached an eddy which deposited him on a huge boulder, leaving him there unconscious.”

Many other passengers were not so lucky. A large majority of the ships passengers and crew either drowned when they tried to launch a boat and escape, or burned with the Grappler. Patterson states the death toll to be close to 89 people, however, more conservative estimates state that it was likely closer to between 71 and 77. It is highly probable that  the majority of the people who died where Chinese cannery workers.

Although he was originally presumed dead, captain Jaegers survived the ship wreck, and was rescued by a group of loggers. He went on to work for the Canadian pacific Navigation Co. until his death in 1898.

Alan McLeod Youngest VC

Alan Arnett McLeod VC

While this story is unrelated to Victoria or British Columbia, it seems to be worth telling if only because it is about a Canadian, and involves an incredible amount of heroism.

Alan Arnett McLeod was a native of Stonewall Manitoba, who enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps at the age of 18 during the First World War. In France he was posted to No. 2 Squadron and assigned to fly slow, awkward Armstrong -Whitworth FK-8.

The Armstrong-Whitworth FK-8

Though McLeod had joined the air force straight out of high school and completed his first solo flight after only five days training, he proved himself to be an able pilot in his first few days at the front. He was mentioned in dispatches when he single handedly destroyed a German observation balloon in spite of heavy antiaircraft fire and enemy fighters, and flew many successful routine patrols, bombing missions and photo jobs in the ensuing months.

On March 27, 1918, McLeod and his observer A.W.Hammond went out on a routine bombing mission, attacking German troop concentrations near Albert France. After getting lost due to bad weather, which forced hi to land and refuel, Mcleod took off again to resume his mission. Just before reaching the target, McLeod and Hammond were jumped by a group of German Fokker triplanes. Islander writer Ed Cosgrove describes the ensuing fight

as they neared their target area, a German Fokker triplane broke through the clouds at a range of 200 yards.

This machine promised real trouble for the Big-Ack, [Armstrong-Whitworth]  since it carried the colours of von Richtofen’s Flying Circus.

Three short bursts from Hammond’s gun sent the German plane into a spin and they watched it crash. But there was little time for self-congratulation, for just then the skies suddenly cleared and seven more triplanes dove at the slowly moving Allied plane.

McLeod’s skilful handling of the plane soon gave Hammond and opening, and with one burst at a range of a few yards he chopped a triplane in half just behind the pilots cockpit. The wreckage burst into flames and plunged to the ground.

“But at the same time another triplane dove under the British machine and raked it with bullets. One struck the gas tank, and a sheet of flame burst into McLeod’s face.”

The ground was 2,000 feet below them and the German planes were pouring bullets into the blazing Armstrong-Whitworth.

McLeod climbed out of the cockpit and, standing on the lower wing, put the plane into a steep sideslip to carry the flames clear of himself and the observer.

Meanwhile, Hammond continued to engage the circling Germans. The fire burned through the floor of the plane and, when the seat dropped away, the observer cooly climbed up on the rim of his cockpit. By this time he had been hit several times and one arm as smashed and useless.

Two German planes followed the burning machine down. One got close and Hammond sent it to the ground in flames. The remaining German opened fire, and at this critical moment Hammond’s gun jammed.

Hammond was now almost unconscious from six bullet wounds while McLeod, with five wounds, was in little better shape.

Miraculously, McLeod was able to crash land the burning aircraft in no-man’s-land. On impact, both men were thrown clear of the plane, which still posed a threat as it was still loaded with its high explosive bombs. While machine gun rounds cooked off in the burning plane, McLeod dragged his now unconscious observer away from the flaming wreck. Just after they reached the relative safety of a shell hole, the bombs all exploded.

After receiving a sixth wound when he attempted to continue towards the allied trenches, McLeod was finally rescued by a group of South-African soldiers. Sixty years after the war, one of them remembered

“We attended their wounds but could not safely get them away until dusk. Both were burnt and in a bad way. Captain Ward and I cheered them as best we could until dark enough for our bearers to carry them back to a dressing station. In trying to cheer McLeod I said “You will be in Blighty in a few days.” He said, “That’s just the trouble, I would like to have a crack at that so-and-so that brought me down.”

In being awarded the Victoria cross for his heroic actions, McLeod became the youngest Canadian to attain the honour.

After an investiture at Buckingham Palace in England, he was returned home to fully recover from his wounds.

McLeod's Winnipeg funeral.

In late October of 1918 he contracted influenza and died in hospital on November 6, five days before the end of the war. In total, Alan McLeod was credited with destroying five German aircraft and one observation balloon. Despite this, he has never been officially recognized as a fighter or bomber ace.