MATT CRAWFORD SAW SAM STEELE CATCH A KILLER

The Province, September 26, 1953

MATT CRAWFORD SAW SAM STEELE CATCH A KILLER

In the rugged early days of B.C., it took an iron hand to control the unruly. And Sam Steele had one

In the torrid language of the rough men Along the mountain section of the Canadian Pacific Railway, in construction days, inspector Sam Steele, of the Northwest Mounted, and his aide, Sergeant Fury, “would storm the portals of Hell and bring back the gates” if it was their duty to do so.

Matt F. Crawford, of Victoria, veteran railwayman and former mayor of Kamloops, cannot testify to anything quite as metaphysical, but he did witness the courageous pair do something akin to it.

“It was the winter of 1884-85,” Mr Crawford recalled, “and the town of Beavermouth was just about as rough a place as could be found. Crooks, gunman, card sharpers, wild women and whiskey peddlers composed a large part of its population. They had gathered to feast on the earnings of the workers on the right of way. Fight, drunken rowdyism and the brazen music of dance halls made the day’s noisy and the Knights hideous.”

“The Mounted Police had been given the job of enforcing the Dominion “Peace Preservation Act” for 150 miles within British Columbia, and twenty miles on each side of the surveyed line.

“Inspector Sam Steele had been in command at Calgary, but in the summer of 1884 he took charge at Golden, from where he tried to stop the moon shine stills in the Windermere Lake District.

“I was firing a locomotive used on construction under Superintendent Jimmy Ross.

“One day Bill and I were at lunch when the telegraph operator at the Beavermouth Station – which was at some little distance from the camp – brought a message. We were to get to Three Valley siding, pick up Jimmy Ross and his private car and head for Golden to take on inspector steel and hurry back.

“There had been rumors of trouble that morning at the town but we had not paid much attention to them. This time the trouble was between the rock workers and the Tin Horn gamblers and their parasitical ilk.

“In no time we were on our way. Hooked onto the private car and then bill gradually opened the throttle wider and wider to see what the engine could do when pushed to its limit.

“At Golden we turned on the Y, picked up Steele and Fury and were headed back for Beavermouth in a matter of minutes. I think Bill coaxed even more speed out of the locomotive on the way back than even he thought to be possible.”

It appeared, Mr. Crawford went on to explain, that a fight had taken place between a gambler who enjoyed the nickname of “Gentleman John,” by reason of his studied courtesy and curious characteristic of not cheating, and a recent arrival. The stranger had annoyed a woman.

The rock workers, who were more or less controlled by a Husky, be whiskered Irishman known as “Big Mike,” took up the quarrel on behalf of the defeated.

They raided the Imperial Saloon where the trouble had started, and almost wrecked the place, before being driven out of it by the tin horns and their friends, who barricaded themselves in the building. The angry rock-men armed Themselves and were preparing to rush the structure and set it afire.

“Such was the situation when inspectors steal and fury dropped off our train at the water tank and headed for the trouble,” said Mister Crawford.

“The single street of Beaver Mouth was crowded in the vicinity of the Imperial. The mob was so intense on the business in hand that they did not observe the approach of the mounted officers. They were startled however, when, in a voice that cut, the inspector ordered; “Big Mike come here!”

“The Irishman recognized the voice and then in front of the hundred or more men that owed him some sort of allegiance, the trim, fearless red tuned officer gave him a tongue lashing. And the silent Sergeant looked steadily ahead.

The ‘boss’ of the rock gang tried to brazen it out. The tin horns he declared, had done injury to ‘one of the boys,’ and the others proposed to even matters and since when, he sarcastically demanded, had the police started to protect the gamblers?

“Steele gazed so steadily at the big bully that he wilted. Then the inspector reminded him that it was the Queen’s law and authority that he was challenging. Almost gently, he continued that he was sure that Big Mike would not like to go back to the United States, from whence he had come and almost as an afterthought, added ‘particularly to Denver.’ Mike paled.

“’Now.’ Sam Steele, ‘where’s this boy of yours that Gentleman John thrashed; bring him to me.

“At last, after futile excuses and efforts to avoid the appearance of taking orders from the law, Big Mike temporized that he was ‘really not one of the gang’ but was a newcomer, whose cause had been taken up by the boys.

“Steele’s only comment was to reiterate his order: ‘Bring him here’.’

“A pasty-faced, fugitive-eyed individual who bore evident marks of the pugilistic skill of Gentleman John, was pushed forward.

“Inspector Steele looked at him through narrowed eyelids; then asked in an aside to Sergeant Fury do you recognize him?

“Yes, sir.’

“Alright, Sergeant.

“Quick as a flash Fury stepped forward and snapped handcuffs on the wrists of the newcomer. There was a bellow from Big Mike and his followers.

“So this is the man, Mike, for whom you were prepared to wreck Beavermouth, and caused a riot call to go out; do you know who he is?” the inspector demanded. “I’ll tell you; he is Hohnson the Montana killer!”

“Johnson!” shouted the Big Irishman.

“Johnson!” echoed a dozen of his astonished followers.

“Why,” cried Mike, “the boys were saying they’d tear him limb from limb, if he came this way. Let me at him!”

“No, you don’t. He’s my prisoner,” and the inspector motioned to Sergeant Fury to remove the man.

Then Steele turned toward the closed saloon: “Now, let’s attend to these fellows in here.”

He walked to the door, kicked it in and demanded admittance in the name of the Queen. Slowly it opened and Steele vanished inside.

Ten minutes later the door again opened and the inspector emerged with Gentleman John and the cause of all the trouble, under arrest.

The crowd parted without a word to permit the officer and his prisoners to pass.

When he was through Steele warned Big Mike and his wild mob that any repetition of the row would result in “every man jack of you going to jail.”

Then he resumed the escorting of his prisoners to the train, which took them to Golden at a slower speed. The next day the two were fined and Johnson was handed over to the American authorities.

“That is the way I remember Inspector Steele and his right-hand man, Sergeant Fury,” commented Mr. Crawford.  They again distinguished themselves at Beavermouth when they held the bridge against 1200 rioting strikers who were protesting the arrest of a law-breaker. I was not present on that occasion.

“Inspector Steele, as everyone knows, played a fine part in suppressing the Northwest Rebellion; led Canadian forces in South Africa, and in World War One. He became Major-General Sir Sam Steele – but I recall him as Inspector Sam of the North West Mounted Police – and do you know, I think that if he had been ordered to bring back the gates of Hades, he would, at least, have made a try at “it.”