ACTION FOLLOWS PLEAS FROM THE PULPITS
The raid on the Thomas Street brothels follows months of impassioned sermons from the group of clergy banded together to crusade for moral reform under the organization known as the Ministerial Association. Their scathing denunciation of the police commission for allowing the evil to continue unimpeded in the face of the law was of great concern in the campaigns leading up to civic elections last month that brought in the new city council.
Among the most eloquent of those Sunday sermons was a roaring oration delivered by the Rev. J.B. Silcox on November 15, 1903, of which the following is quoted directly from the sermon, for the benefit of readers who do not go to church: “On the western suburbs of our fair city, defiant of the nation’s laws against their existence, there stands in unblushing impudence the house of her whose steps take hold on hell. The city has allowed that monstrous iniquity to exist and thrive year after year. Into their swinish precincts the youth of the city are lured to debauchery and death. The malaria of that foul and festering mass of moral rottenness spreads its blight over every hearth and home.
“We quarantine the house where scarlet fever rages, why not the house where the scarlet sin is rampant? For three years the Ministerial Association has been trying in quiet ways to enforce the law of the land against this plague spot of iniquity, this hell-hole of licentiousness, this cesspool of damnable corruption, that with cancerous persistency had festered itself as an institution on our fair young city. We have not asked for new laws, simply for the impartial enforcement of laws already enacted.
“The blame and the shame must be fastened on the men who are responsible for it—the police commissioners.”
NEW ERA AHEAD
The Ministerial Association believes the decisive action in closing down Thomas Street leaves no doubt that a new era of superior morality has begun in the great City of Winnipeg.
As for the painted ladies, it appears that they may still be quietly living among the good folks of Winnipeg, as following the raid, newspaper men waiting about the train station have seen no evidence of a flock of soiled doves taking flight to leave these here parts by train or any other form of transportation. There was a report of just one woman, an American sporting lady, who was seen at the train station on Sunday, quitting Winnipeg to head for Deadwood Gulch, South Dakota, from whence she came.
Chapter Thirty
Grand Opening
July 20, 1904
After a full year of construction, the new office building of Willows and Sons was ready to be officially opened. That the weather had cooperated with a stunningly beautiful day, bathed in sunshine, was taken as a sign of good luck by Rupert, who was almost giddy with excitement.
“Alfred! Please, do hurry. We are going to be late for our own celebration!” Rupert shouted up to the second floor while pacing the entrance hall at Ravenscraig.
“I’m right here, Father.” Alfred emerged not from upstairs, but from the library. “I was just on the telephone with the mayor’s office. He has had a change in schedule and can join us for the ribbon cutting but will have to leave before the reception with the newspapermen. However, Mayor Sharpe promises he will not miss the opportunity to congratulate you tonight at the celebration dinner at the Manitoba Club.”
“Fine, fine, Alfred. I see no disadvantage to that. The newspapers will have me to quote for their stories for the morning editions, and not the mayor. Not a bad outcome for us, old chap!”
The timing of the opening was critical and Rupert had removed every barrier in order to not delay the launch. The Eaton’s company was set to have its groundbreaking ceremony for its grand new department store on Portage Avenue the following week. By having the Grand Opening of the Willows building today, Rupert would have the chance to focus attention on his part in the construction of the mammoth store.
Why on earth John Craig Eaton decided to build on Portage Avenue, so far from the commercial centre on Main, Rupert could not imagine. However, while Eaton might have made a mistake, as long as his money was good, who cared where he built his store?
Rupert was in exceptionally good humor. He joked and sang all the way to the office, and Alfred slowly felt the tension of the last few months start to ease. He took a deep breath and smiled as they bumped along Main Street in his father’s new vehicle, the only Packard in Winnipeg.
“I see you are much better acquainted with the workings of the motorcar, Father,” Alfred said. “But given the number of times it stalls, would it not be faster to have had Henry drive us in the carriage?”
“Of course it would have been faster,” Rupert laughed. “But that’s hardly the point, dear lad. Just look at all of these people staring at us. There is no equaling the feeling of being conspicuously successful! Don’t you agree?”
Alfred felt his jaw tighten. Father did know how to boast.
The Willows Building was an impressive addition to the heart of the commercial district. Sitting in grand prominence on Main Street next to Ashdown’s Store, it was positioned to catch the attention of all the Main Street traffic heading to City Hall or into the wholesale district. Rupert had taken particular care to be sure the Willows name would also be grandly displayed, making the bronze sign large enough to be clearly seen, yet small enough to not be accused of looking overly showy. He wanted to be recognized, not criticized, and deciding this seemingly small detail took days of agony. He was extremely pleased with the result, judging the sign to look perfectly elegant, as it stood bracketed by marble pillars and enhanced by the intricate ironwork over the main entrance.
Willows and Sons occupied the top two floors, while offices on the lower two were leased to other businesses. Rupert had spared no expense in the design and furnishings and already the building had been declared by the Winnipeg Star to be the most impressive new office address in Winnipeg.
Everything was going wonderfully. After months of worry, Rupert was allowing himself to believe he had escaped the long reach of scandal from the brothel raids as ably as he had the blackmail matter. The payments to Ira Volinsky continued and he had heard nothing more from the man. He rarely thought of either issue any more. Not one word had been published regarding the ownership of the former bordellos on Thomas Street. The only mention of Thomas Street at all concerned the street’s name change to Minto, to honor Lord Minto, Canada’s retiring governor general.
It was Rupert’s idea to commemorate Lord Minto’s visit to Winnipeg with the street naming, and City Council quickly agreed. The memory of that happy afternoon, filled as it was with pomp and circumstance, brought a smile to Rupert’s lips. Lord Minto appeared deeply touched by the recognition bestowed upon him and he had spoken very warmly about the large and enthusiastic crowds that came out to see him in Winnipeg. It was the perfect solution to bury the insalubrious past of the street, and of course Lord Minto would never be told a thing about the former brothels.
Indeed, Rupert felt he had acted too hastily in transferring the property titles to Alfred and was now sorry that he had done it. It was not that he was concerned about enriching his son’s holdings at the expense of his own. That was of no issue at all. His only concern was that he was unable to tell Alfred about the transfer for fear of doing serious damage to their relationship. Alfred was blessed with a keen intellect and a sharp mind. He would see immediately that Rupert had set him up to take the fall should there have been a scandal. Rupert would have to find a clever way to either transfer the houses back to himself or to tell Alfred about his new holdings without upsetting his son. In any case, that would be a problem for another day. Today was for celebration.
He pulled the car up in front of the office and shooed his son inside to ensure that all was in readiness. A doorman rushed out to place stands with ropes at both the front and the rear of the Packard to be sure no drayman would attempt to bring a wagon too close to the car.
“Good afternoon, Rodney,” Rupert addressed the uniformed man. “Please be sure to extend your barriers
to allow space for the carriages to drop their passengers directly in front of my car. Mrs. Willows and the rest of my family will be along shortly, and the dignitaries will be arriving at any time. And do give a quick sweep to this unsightly dust on the boardwalk. Oh, and you’ll find cleaning cloths and the like in the boot of the car. Be sure to attend immediately to any splashes. Don’t let any of those street urchins get near my automobile!”
Rupert reached into the rear seat and pulled out a package. “Here.” He thrust the parcel into the doorman’s hands. “I brought a sack of candy to help you persuade those young hoodlums to keep their bloody hands off my car.”
Before entering the building, Rupert walked across Main Street to see for himself how impressive the new building looked with the Packard sitting in front like an expensive piece of art. The sidewalk was crowded with shoppers streaming into the Ashdown Store. He watched as people slowed to point at the car and he imagined their conversations. In his mind all of their talk was about how Rupert Willows was making a grand contribution to Winnipeg’s growing commercial sector. He was almost bursting with pride.
As Rupert luxuriated in his moment, Alfred took charge inside. He surveyed the lobby with a well-informed eye and immediately set to work to adjust the setting to meet his father’s expectations. The flowers were in the wrong place. There was no riser behind the podium to bring Rupert to the height he would insist was correct. And worst of all, there were too many chairs. Rupert had been quite adamant that there be “standing room only” for the newspapermen to write about. That would have to be engineered. Alfred snapped his fingers and half the chairs were removed. As the employees bustled about under his direction, Alfred took heart in the fact that in just ninety minutes all the tension would be behind them, the ribbon will have been cut and the newsmen would be running along to their next stories.
The stress of getting the Willows Building finished and properly launched was wearing on the whole family, not to mention the employees of the building company. Moving the executive offices from the construction yard to Main Street was as important to Alfred as it was to his father, but for different reasons, though he had been careful not to reveal them. At long last, he could emerge from his father’s shadow and define his own role as the company’s operations manager. He relished the thought of his father spending less time meddling in his work and more in the boardrooms of Winnipeg and Toronto. Rupert could make the deals, leaving Alfred to run the projects. He was going to prove his worth; perhaps even his father would recognize it one day.
“Alfred!” Rupert smiled widely as he entered the building. “Wonderful job. Everything looks just right. Is my speech at the podium?”
“It is, and the water glass is filled and ready for you as well. I must say, Father, the building does look very fine and makes an impressive addition to the streetscape.”
“Ah ha! And tell me again about your concerns regarding location,” Rupert teased.
“Must I?” Alfred turned away from his father for a moment so that he would not be seen rolling his eyes. The man was always so greatly in need of compliments. “I do admit I am sorry that I fought so hard against your choice of address,” Alfred nodded to his father. “Yes, there is enormous value in being next to Ashdown’s and so close to City Hall. It was only the high price of the land that caused me concern, you understand.
“I wish you many happy and prosperous years in your new office, Father.”
“Thank you, son.” Rupert was genuinely touched. “I very much appreciate your talent and your wise counsel in these matters. It might not always seem that way to you, but I mean it. You are a strong asset to the company.”
The thought of a giving his son a gift of appreciation suddenly came to mind and Rupert’s eyes brightened with inspiration. What a perfect idea! He could drop his Thomas Street problem by creating papers with today’s date instead of the true date of the property transfer. If the transfer was framed as a gift, it would result in a brilliant solution to his sticky problem.
Alfred couldn’t help but notice the change in his father’s demeanor.
“What is it? Do we need to change something in the room, Father? I can see you thinking.”
“No, no, Alfred, everything is perfect. In fact, I have a surprise for you, but I will save telling it to you until this evening. Alfred, the minute you see Percival Wright, tell him I need to seem him after the ceremony, will you?”
“Of course. Is there something I should know about? Are you buying more real estate?”
“All will be told in good time, son. Now, I see the newspapermen are starting to arrive and I need a little time to gather my thoughts. I’ll be in my office.”
Wright would certainly be able to work up the new real estate papers, and Alfred would never be the wiser. It was a perfect solution. Rupert chuckled to himself. He would tell his son the good news before the dinner reception this evening.
Rupert took a moment alone to admire his office and its rich furnishings. It almost took his breath away, it had come out so well. He loved the way the room was almost entirely covered in mirrors, ornately trimmed in heavy gold frames. It was his recent trip to Paris with Beth that led to the design decision. His son, Elliot had insisted on taking them to visit the Palace of Versailles. So impressed was Rupert with the exquisite Hall of Mirrors, that he immediately determined that his office would carry a similar rich theme. He was tremendously pleased with the look of his surroundings and couldn’t wait to conduct business here.
Life was very good, indeed, this bright summer day. Oh, how wonderful to be admired for success! No one had to know how he had depleted his bank account to shore up his image. He had several projects on the go and a few irons in the fire. Rupert was a gambler who believed there was always more money to be made. All he needed was to stick to what he knew best: charming people into investing in his schemes. As long as there was enough money coming in to pay his obligations on his debts, no one would be any the wiser regarding his tight finances. He would make it work. After all, success was mostly about what people thought of you. Rupert could almost taste the money.
There was a knock at his door. “We’re ready for you, Father,” Alfred called. “Everyone is here.”
“Excellent. Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?”
“Mr. Willows! A word with you, please, Alderman Willows!” The newspapermen shouted out at him as he stepped off the elevator and made his way to the podium. He felt like a god. He had finally reached the goal that he’d pursued for so many years. He was a powerbroker and an admired business leader. People wanted his opinion. Rupert was beside himself with happiness.
The program went precisely as planned. The planted questions and compliments from his staff members were shouted from the floor, and Rupert made a great show of expressing his pride in Winnipeg and the future of the commercial sector. Flashbulbs popped, cigars were handed about, and the president of Willows & Sons was roundly congratulated on his speech and his wonderful new building. The afternoon newspapers were effusive in their positive comments about the grand opening and praised the new office building for its magnificence and innovation.
What Rupert didn’t know was that this joyous time was to be short-lived. In just three months, his world would crumble into what he would later call the dark times. But not today. Today, it was summer in Winnipeg and Rupert Willows was the talk of the town. There were parties and dinners and important men seeking his opinion. And everywhere he turned it seemed there were beautiful women fluttering about, desirous of his attention. He had truly arrived.
Chapter Thirty-One
Million Dollar Fire
Oct. 11, 1904
Ziporah’s heart was pounding as she shook her snoring brother. “Isaac! Wake up. There’s a fire!” She whispered loudly enough to reach through his deep sleep, but not so loud as to wake Aaron and Mendel nearby.
“What? Here?” Isaac sat bolt upright.
“No, shh. Let the boys sleep. Downtown. It’s a bi
g one. We can see it from our back lane. It might be City Hall. You better hurry. The paper will be looking for you.”
Ziporah pushed her new woolen scarf at him as he flew out of the door. “Take your bicycle!”
“No, there’ll be a crowd and it might get stolen,” he called back.
“Be careful!”
Isaac ran along King Street, astonished by the eerie look of the golden skyline. A strong southeast wind drove the smoke straight at him as raced downtown. Cutting onto Main Street, he could see that fire was south of City Hall. Fear clutched him. Not Ashdown’s! He drew the scarf over his face against the choking smoke and pounded on. The sight of the monstrous blaze stopped him in his tracks as he rounded the corner. Droves of people shouted and pushed to get a better look at the spectacle. The brand new Bulman Block, the city’s most modern print shop, had turned into a roaring inferno. It was on Bannatyne, across from the Ashdown’s store. Whipped hard by the wind, the flames were licking the adjacent buildings that fronted onto Main. Hundreds of people were in the street and on the rooftops working a frenzied bucket brigade to splash water on threatened buildings. Firemen shouted their frustrations as they directed weak streams of water into the blaze from fire hoses splayed in the streets. It was clear the fire was going to destroy the building, for not a drop of water reached past the second floor.
Isaac was a half-block away when the explosion happened. Windows burst, sending balls of flame into the night sky, and shooting shards of glass down into the screaming crowd that had gathered to gawk at the spectacle.
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