A Scarytale of Old York

The Gerrard Street Mystery

John Charles Dent

Constance Bay: Three Bats, 2017

32 pages

A Christmas gift read on Christmas Day, "The Gerrard Street Mystery" is one of the very few Christmas ghost stories to come out of Victorian Canada. You'll get no argument from me if you disagree. There is a ghost, but the holiday is mentioned only briefly. Though the climax takes place in December 1861, the narrator and hero misses Christmas Day itself because he is unconscious.

The title story of The Gerrard Street Mystery and Other Weird Tales, issued in 1888 by Rose Publishing, this is, of course, the work of a dead man. I've always found it interesting that the book was put together within weeks of his funeral. Why the rush? There couldn't have been much hunger for such a thing; John Charles Dent was not known as a writer of fiction, but as a journalist historian, and biographer. Prior to that, he'd been a lawyer, which may account for the legal-sounding start to this weird tale:

My name is William Francis Furlong. My occupation is that of a commission merchant, and my place of business is on St. Paul Street, in the City of Montreal. I have resided in Montreal ever since shortly after my marriage, in 1862, to my cousin, Alice Playter, of Toronto.

William gives a brief, dry account of his early life – stained by the loss of his parents – in order to explain how it was that he came to be raised by his uncle, Richard Yardington, a prominent Toronto businessman. Cousin Alice, was not so unfortunate in that she lost only her mother. However, as her father is a man of "dissipated habits," she too was taken into Uncle Richard's care. As the years pass, William's "childish attachment" to Alice ripens to "tender affection," and the two become engaged. Though their uncle shares nothing of "the prejudice entertained by many people against marriage between cousins," he is a firm believer that his male ward should demonstrate the ability to provide. Thus, William embarks for Australia, so as to better oversee his business interests.

Four years pass, during which William amasses a respectable return. Uncle Richard writes calling him home. William responds that obligations will prevent a return for a further six months, but his business wraps up early, and he is soon on a ship sailing from Melbourne. No use in writing Uncle Richard or Alice of course; he'd likely arrive in Toronto on the same day as his letter.

Mystery in "The Gerrard Street Mystery" begins en route when William, on a lark, asks whether there might be something for him in General Delivery at the main post office in Boston's Merchant's Exchange Building.

He is gobsmacked to discover that there is!

The letter is from Uncle Richard*:

How could affectionate Uncle Richard have known that his ward would be in Boston? Why would he think that William might ask for a letter at General Delivery? How could Uncle Richard have known he'd be home for Christmas? Most of all, what sorrow has befallen beloved Alice?

Answering these questions would only spoil the story. Instead, I'll borrow a page from my friend J.F. Norris of Pretty Sinister in sharing three things I learned in reading the story:

William returns to Toronto via the mid-day express from Hamilton. As his train arrives at Union Station, he spots Uncle Richard in the Waiting Room. Until then, I had no idea that Union Station of 1861 was so very, very small.

Not to be outdone by Boston, the main Toronto post office also figures. Though it no longer serves to carry Her Majesty's mail, the building still stands. Today, it's most famous as the building from which convicted criminal Conrad Black removed his famous 13 file boxes.

A fleeting reference to the book The Debatable Land Between This World and the Next (1871) introduced me to the Scottish-American social reformer and spiritualist Robert Dale Owen. Much of the rest of the Christmas Day was spent dipping in and out of his other work. In The Policy of Emancipation (1863) I found these words, reproduced from 23 September 1862 letter Owen sent to President Lincoln:

In days when the public safety is imminently threatened, and the fate of a nation may hang upon a single act, we owe frank speech, above all other men, to him who is highest in authority.

A wise man was Mr Owen.

Here's wishing us all a Happy and Peaceful New Year.

Object and Access: A very attractive chapbook, letterpress printed in 10pt Baskerville on Reich Savoy paper. Issued in an edition of thirty-five, it was a Christmas gift from Three Bats' publisher Jason Byers.

* This image from the very poor microform copy of The Gerrard Street Mystery and Other Weird Tales available at the Internet Archive.

S is for Short Story

The Crooked Golfers
Frank L. Packard

I know of 182 short stories by Frank L. Packard, but there could be twice that number. Here one month, gone the next, they appeared in the magazines of his day, most never to be republished. Even the small percentage that found second life in books are decades gone – which makes The Crooked Golfers all the more special. A chapbook, it features a previously unknown short story discovered by Packard scholar JC Byers at Library and Archives Canada.

Evidence indicates that "The Crooked Golfers" was written late in life… perhaps very late; Packard was not in the habit of dating his work. Appended to the typescript is a note dated 4 April 1942, but the hand is not his, the author having died nearly seven weeks earlier.

It would seem that efforts to sell the short story failed. If true, this says something about the changing market because "The Crooked Golfers" is typical of the writing that brought this son of Lachine riches through the 1910s, 1920s and 1930s. Its characters would've been familiar to Packard's readers. The first we meet is Milord, a criminal mastermind who moves with equal ease amongst the gentry and downtrodden:

Milord was a linguist. He spoke two languages – English and East Side – both fluently. By reason of long arduous training his English was charming, his voice cultured, a delight to his auditors; but East Side was his native tongue…

Partner in crime Nippy shares nothing of Milord's sophistication and affectation, but he is a crack hand a safe cracking. Their victim is Josiah P. Heatherington, he of the New York Heatheringtons, who "unmoved by the upward march of fashion in the general direction of Riverside Drive, still lived, as his fathers had lived before him, in one of the aristocratic mansions on Washington Square."

Nippy and Milord gain access to Heatherington's home by way of a basement window and have just opened the library wall safe when footsteps are heard in the hallway. Milord extinguishes his flashlight, leaving Nippy to scoop out the contents in darkness. Their escape is made easier by the fact that Josiah P. Heatherington and companion are "pleasantly 'lit up'" on "illicit liquor". True professionals, the criminal pair run madly off in all directions, then meet up at a unsavoury speak-easy. That Nippy has the loot proves there is honour among thieves.

The close call is the closest yet, causing Milord to again consider his future:

   "Time to quit," said Milord laconically.
   "Oh!" ejaculated Nippy – and grinned. "It listens like I heard dat before."
   "You have," returned Milord quietly; "but you've heard it for keeps this time. And it isn't only just because I'm afraid of getting caught sooner or later, either, though to-night has sort of forced a showdown. All my life I've wanted to associate with gentlemen and be one of them myself. I'm going to now – and so are you."

Unsigned certificates to the Wallapootimie Golf Club in hand, stolen from Josiah P. Heatherington's wall safe, the pair travel to Florida intending to make themselves over as honest gentlemen. Though that which transpires will come as a shock to readers unfamiliar with the sport, it is by parts fun, funny, and very much in keeping with the sense of morality that runs through Packard's work.

The Crooked Golfers serves as a good introduction to Packard's work. The size of same I leave for JC Byers to discover.

There be riches. Milord would tell you as much.

Object and Access: A 34pp stapled chapbook featuring the short story with a handy chronological listing of Packard's thirty-one books. Copies were handed out gratis at Mr Byers' talk on Packard at the February 2013 meeting of the Ottawa Book Collectors. I've yet to see any come up for sale.

Related post:

A Post-Victorian Christmas (w/ Frank L. Packard)

The Poetic David Montrose

From Ottawa comes a new chapbook of hard-boiled epigrams drawn from the writings of one of our finest noir writers. The words this time belong to David Montrose, whose three Russell Teed mysteries – The Crime on Cote de Neiges, Murder Over Dorval, The Body on Mount Royal – were the first reissues in the Véhicule Press Ricochet Books series.

A limited edition of 25 copies, it follows last year's In The Darkness. Both are the work of J.C. Byers, who has produced what are by far the most elegant treatments of Canadian noir. An Easy Place to Die was printed with a Vandercook SP-15 press on St Armand Old Master, and features fourteen epigrams. My favourite comes from Murder Over Dorval, Montrose's second novel:

     She was a water dryad,
     And she came
     Dripping crystal sparks of light
     From the lake,
     And it was getting brighter,
     And that was good.

Montrealers will appreciate this:

     I couldn't sleep.
          Maybe
          because of the heat.
     It was hotter than hell.
     It was hotter than a fundamentalist
          thinks hell is.
     It was hotter than it had ever been
          before anywhere else in the world.
     It was almost as hot
          as it had been
          in Montreal
          last August.

Also included is a brief biography of David Montrose – Charles Ross Graham – in which Mr Byers considers Teed's misadventures:

Over the course of three novels Russell Teed's investigations taint him as a result of his contact with the criminal underworld. By the time the stories have ended he has been beaten, often, humiliated, and robbed. He has also seen strangers, friends, and lovers killed. He has nearly been killed and he himself has killed more than once, sometimes quite viciously.

"A Private Dick's Disturbing Descent into Darkness", I titled my piece on Murder Over Dorval. As the novels progress, the once upstanding McGill grad fairly comes apart. "The bottle becomes a refuge and it is easy to image Teed disappearing into it", writes J.C. Byers. "Indeed, one can hardly imagine an alternate fate."

Too right. He's done.

Those wishing to obtain copies of An Easy Place To Die may contact the publisher through Wollamshram's Blog.

Update: Back from the Ottawa Small Press Book Fair, Cameron Anstee has posted more photos of An Easy Place To Die. "My favourite purchase of the fair," says he.

Related post:

The Poetic Martin Brett

The Poetic Martin Brett

Cast your eyes on what is surely the most elegant Douglas Sanderson item. Printed with a Vandercook SP-15 press on St. Armand Old Master Rideau paper, In The Darkness is the work of J.C. Byers.

Mr Byers gives us extracts from four of Sanderson's Martin Brett novels "presented so as to highlight the poetic elements of noir novels."

The above, drawn from the opening of Hot Freeze, is a favourite, but the one that really got to me comes from The Darker Traffic:

This was a night
When I needed a friend,
In case I opened my eyes
In the darkness
And had nothing
     intimate and
     familiar and
     trivial
To talk about,
To make me stop
     remembering
That the little kid
With the big eyes
Was dead.

In The Darkness was produced in an edition of twenty numbered copies. I'm told that this is just the first in a series and that the hard boiled epigrams of David Montrose are next.

Those hoping to add a copy to their library can contact J.C. Byers through Wollamshram's Blog.

The photographs do not do it justice.