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Where We B - Celebrating 60 years in Newfoundland and Labrador
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In this issue:
Did the Beothucks welcome the RCMP to NL?/ The history of the RCMP in Newfoundland and Labrador
How it began: Newfoundland Rangers become Mounties
Longest serving Auxiliary Constable in Atlantic Region
Women from Newfoundland and Labrador make policing history/ Aunt Lucy’s Sheep - Aunt Martha’s Sheep
A Civilian member’s perspective: The day that changed the RCMP
Where’s Namibia? Division members volunteer for the RCMP’s first peacekeeping mission
Newfoundlander by choice
A young constable learns from his mistakes
I’m in the jailhouse now: Memories from the front line
Newfoundland: Better than home
Labrador in the early days
The first Public Service Employees
From being shot to meeting Joey Smallwood, it was a great 36 years!
Crash and burn - But he always walked away: The Staff Sgt. Bob MacKinnon story
The brave man on horse back: An uncle, a soldier finally at rest under the good earth of home
They gave their lives: Members killed on duty in Newfoundland and Labrador
The ghost car on the Northern Peninsula
Tales from the front line
Commanding Officer’s Corner
I am particularly humbled and proud to serve as your Commanding Officer – even more so during our 60th Anniversary celebrations.
This issue of Where We “B” is somewhat of a departure from our usual publication. It contains a variety of stories of our rich history, common experiences, and community involvement. In the annals of time, sixty years is brief. However, according to these stories we did not waste any of it.
From these collected tales of tragedy and triumph, humour, dedication, and selflessness of our members and employees, it is easy to see why we have become so ingrained in the communities we serve. Newfoundland and Labrador’s rich cultural landscape and its people have instilled in us all a pride of place.
You should be enormously proud of your service and dedication to duty, to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and to the people of this fine province, as should those who have gone before us. I thank you very much for this service and dedication.
And as we continue to go about our daily duties, be safe!
Sincerely,
W. A. (Bill) Smith, Assistant Commissioner
Commanding Officer, "B" Division
Royal Canadian Mounted Police
Newfoundland and Labrador
Message from the Minister
It is my pleasure on behalf of the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador to extend greetings to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police “B” Division as it celebrates 60 years of policing in our province.
For 60 years the women and men of the RCMP have played an invaluable role in the lives of Newfoundlanders and Labradorians. No doubt our communities and our people are well served by the dedication of these officers during this period of time and I look forward to this continuing.
Members of the RCMP are important members, indeed leaders, in our communities. I have seen this first hand as a municipal leader and now as Minister of Justice and Attorney General. Each and every day, officers are engaged with residents of their communities and I recognize and commend the particular interest which is paid toward our young people to ensure the foundation of a strong relationship is laid. This is an investment which I know will have a long-lasting impact upon our province.
I wish you much success throughout the course of this year's celebrations and I encourage the people of Newfoundland and Labrador to look forward to participating in the many activities planned to recognize “B” Division's diamond anniversary.
Sincerely,
Felix Collins
Minister of Justice
and Attorney General
Publisher/ Editor:
Helen Cleary - Escott
Where We “B” is published by Public Affairs and Communication Services, St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador.
Suggestions from employees are actively solicited. The views expressed in any material published in the magazine are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official opinion of the RCMP.
How to Reach us:
By Mail:
RCMP Public Affairs and Communication Services
P.O. Box 9700
St. John’s, NL
A1A 3T5
Phone: 709-772-7334
Fax: 709-772-2202
E-mail: Helen.Escott@rcmp-grc.gc.ca
This 60th Anniversary edition of the Where We “B” has become a labour of love for me. This edition is really a “Where We’ve Been.” Our history in this province is incredibly interesting and colourful. This edition is 24 pages, but I could have easily written a book. I would like to thank our employees especially our veterans who took the time to come in and tell me their stories and dig out old pictures. Listening to them talk about their careers really made my day and instilled a new sense of pride. I have the utmost respect for our veterans, because they are the ones who created our proud image through their hard work and policing ingenuity. I hope this collection of stories does justice to the legacy they have left us.
Helen Cleary-Escott
Editor, Where We “B”
Did the Beothucks welcome the RCMP to NL?
Two paintings called, “The History of Newfoundland”, are the work of artist Harold Goodridge. The two paintings are hung on display at the Confederation Building in St. John's.
According to information provided by Elizabeth Gallagher, Sergeant-at-Arms/Information Officer, Executive Council (Provincial Government), both paintings are an allegorical representation of Confederation.
The left hand side depicts Newfoundland history with the cliffs mostly in shadow because of our stormy past.
Figures from the various periods, some suggesting well known faces, are moving up from the bay in which their ship lies at anchor.
The Beothuck, his body daubed with red ochre and hair plaited with feathers is from John Guy's description of his first meeting with the Indians in 1612.
The Vikings' costume is from the Icelandic statue of Thorfinn Karlsefri the son-in-law of Leif Ericsson, who was one of the most likely of the Vikings to have touched Newfoundland just after 1000 AD.
The central figures in the mural are that of John Cabot, Sir Humphrey Gilbert and Sir David Kirke.
Sir David Kirke was the ruler of the colony at Ferryland from 1638 to 1673 and the conqueror of Quebec from Champlain in 1929. In the picture he is proudly drawing Champlain's attention to the Confederation group symbolized by veterans of the three Newfoundland services greeting the Mountie.
The right hand side of the picture depicts a sunny future and some Newfoundland industries including paper mill and mine on the far shore. The sylvan voice of the little rill suggests our Newfoundland Ode. The schooner is Bob Bartlett's “Morrissey.”
The children in the foreground represent the beneficiaries of Confederation. They play happily with a boat, boiling a kettle and hauling blasty boughs quite unconscious of the ghastly pageant behind them appearing out of the mists of time.
The above described mural is one of two that Premier Joseph R. Smallwood commissioned the artist to complete.
The second mural hung in the main lobby is similar but not identical to the first.
Premier Smallwood requested the artist make several changes in the second piece of artwork.
The changes include putting Smallwood's face as the face of Sir David Kirke and adding the face of Sir Albert Walsh to the Mountie's face. Walsh was Newfoundland's first Lieutenant
The history of the RCMP in Newfoundland and Labrador
The first Newfoundlander to join the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was Constable Earnest W. Peyton in 1888. He was the son of a prominent family from Twillingate and was believed to be 21 at the time.
It was March 22, 1949, some 76 years after its inception, that the RCMP arrived in Newfoundland and Labrador. Nine Mounties arrived in Newfoundland and opened a Division Headquarters on Kenna’s Hill in St. John’s. They were posted there to enforce federal law. The RCMP was officially recognized a year later on August 1, 1950 with an agreement between RCMP Deputy Commissioner Gray and the Attorney General for the province, the Honourable L. R. Curtis.
The RCMP took over the duties of the former Newfoundland Rangers and also members of the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary serving outside St. John’s. At the time, 55 Newfoundland Rangers and 22 Constabulary members were accepted into the RCMP.
The Force was given the responsibility of policing all of Newfoundland and Labrador with the exception of the capital city. Because of the growth in the establishment of the RCMP, in 1954 the force opened up sub-division headquarters in Corner Brook and St. John’s. As the force continued to expand, sub-divisions were then added in Gander and Labrador.
How it began: Newfoundland Rangers become Mounties
The Newfoundland Ranger Force came into existence in 1935 and was modeled after the RCMP with similar type uniforms, rules, regulations and orders. They were also given the right to use firearms, which was not granted to any former Newfoundland Police Force.
Training was under the direction of RCMP Sergeant-Major Fred Anderton who was seconded from his other duties for a period of two years. Anderton later became Chief Ranger (March/36 - Jan/39) as did another RCMP member, Staff Sergeant E. W. Greenley (Aug/39 - June/40).
The Ranger Force functioned for a period of fifteen years; having a total strength of 204 members during its existence. Duties of the Ranger Force included working for seven departments of government: Natural Resources, Public Health & Welfare, Customs, Agriculture and Rural Reconstruction, Justice, Posts and Telegraphs. The most demanding was that of public health and welfare concerning the issuance of able bodied and sick relief, which numbered in the hundreds, making the end of each month, a tiring and burdensome task.
Fifty- Eight members were in the Ranger Force on July 31, 1950. Fifty- Five elected to join the RCMP on August 1, 1950. Thirty One were married members. The RCMP Regimental numbers started at 16163.
Very short notice was given to Rangers to engage in the RCMP. A memorandum dated July 4, 1950 was sent by regular post with instructions to reply immediately by pink telegram if they wished to engage in the RCMP, or accept discharge from the Ranger Force. Failing to engage in the RCMP meant that the members concerned were left to their own devices to seek other employment.
While all but three Rangers joined the RCMP, the decision to do so was made quickly but not lightly, says former Ranger and retired RCMP member Ches Parsons. “The majority were members in isolated communities all over the place. Some of them got the notice and had to reply almost immediately,” he says.
After engagement in the RCMP, eleven were selected for indoctrination, seven for full recruit training and two for equitation. Eight of the members who joined the Ranger Force when it was formed in 1935 continued to serve in the RCMP until retirement. Ten served for only a short period of time before seeking other employment. Three members met an untimely death. Only ten of the fifty five who engaged still survive.
Six ranks were awarded to the Commissioned rank and thirty-three to the non-commissioned rank. The last Chief Ranger, who came up through the ranks, also engaged in the RCMP, was eventually promoted to Assistant Commissioner and put in charge of “F” Division, one of the Western Divisions.
Only #22, Sergeant Alan LeGrow and # 79, Corporal John Hogan retained their rank. It was never explained why. All others were reduced in rank. This caused a lot of consternation and chagrin since the education qualifications were far higher than the educational requirement to join the RCMP at that time.
In the early weeks of joining the RCMP, Parsons says, the Rangers weren't issued either uniforms or police cars. “If we saw a fellow speeding and we stopped him for speeding, we'd have to do it in a taxi and, without uniforms, we'd have to try to explain about our identity.”
“Within the last few years the RCMP, “B” Division, has been benevolent in recognizing our role in establishing the RCMP in Newfoundland and Labrador and have issued certificates to this effect. The recognition is sincerely appreciated,” Mr. Parsons says.
The surviving ex-Ranger Force members offer wholehearted congratulations to the RCMP for sixty years of dedicated policing throughout Newfoundland and Labrador and wish to further extend best wishes for the future.
Mr. Parsons retired from the RCMP at the rank of Staff Sgt. in 1972. By that time he had 27 years combined experience with both forces.
Longest serving Auxiliary Constable in Atlantic Region
Everett Hann wanted to be a Mountie for years, but the timing was never right. He had a wife and young family in Corner Brook, a house and a good job in the building supply industry. He put his dream on hold. In 1969 a co-worker told him about the Auxiliary Constable program. He talked to some local Mounties who would visit his store to buy building material and they gave him the information he needed. He filled out the paperwork and in1970, Hann was sworn in as an Auxiliary Constable.
The Auxiliary Constable Program began in Newfoundland in 1965 with a complement of about 40 Constables. The following year an additional 40 were sworn in. At one time the Auxiliary Program boasted 200 in strength. Today we are proud to have 97 Auxiliary Constables across Newfoundland & Labrador, servicing 49 Detachment areas and contributing approximately 20,000 hours annually. Newfoundland had the longest running Auxiliary Constable in the nation - A/Cst. J.J. Murphy from Placentia Detachment, with 32 plus years. Murphy retired from the Auxiliary Program in 1997. Everett Hann is celebrating 40 years of Auxiliary service and is the longest serving Auxiliary member in Atlantic Canada. This program is very popular within the communities of Newfoundland & Labrador. The vacancies are rare and the wait list is long. The Auxiliary Program is an invaluable assistance to the RCMP in this province.
Hann has fond memories of his 40 years and too many memories to recall. One that sticks out in his mind was a routine patrol he was doing on the highway outside Corner Brook with Cst. Joe MacDonald. They noticed a car traveling in front of them with some suspicious cargo sticking out of the trunk. As and avid fisherman and hunter, Hann told MacDonald, “That’s a cow.” MacDonald said, “Are you sure it’s not a moose?” “It’s a cow,” Hann said, “I can tell by the legs.” They pulled the car over and sure enough, they caught cattle rustlers in Corner Brook! The cow had been stolen from a near by farm.
Everett Hann has received many compliments and awards over the years including, the International Year of Volunteers Award from Prime Minister Jean Chretian and a 35-year award from Commissioner G. Zaccardelli in Ottawa at RCMP Headquarters. One co-worker, Joe Sheen says, “Everett’s presence adds to the overall effectiveness of the patrol unit that he is with.” His past supervisor, Ed Hutchings said, “Auxiliary Constable Hann is considered a valued asset at this detachment and is a role model for other auxiliary members.”
Auxiliary Constable Hann saw his dreams come true in 2007 when his son Michael graduated from Depot and became a member of the RCMP. He is now stationed in Holyrood, Avalon East District. “I live the dream through him now” says Hann who regularly puts in between 150 to 200 hours of volunteer hours a year. When he was younger, he would put in as many as 800 to 1000 hours but he doesn’t think about retirement. “Ill be here as long as the Force needs me,” says Hann. “At 35 years, I thought ‘I’ll go to 40 then I’ll retire. Now I am thinking . . . maybe I’ll go to 45.”
RCMP Fast Facts...
DID YOU KNOW...
- Staff Sgt. Frank Mercer holds the distinction of being the only police officer to have served in Labrador within the ranks of three police forces: The Newfoundland Constabulary, the Newfoundland Rangers and the RCMP.
- A team skipped by Insp. D.O. Bartram won the right to represent the Division at the 1961 Canadian Police Curling Association Bonspiel at Ottawa. Members of the team were Consts. G.E. Williams, M.K. Smith and Sgt. J.M. LaFosse.
- Const. R.E. MacLoed of “B” Division won the Minto Cup in 1961. This trophy was emblematic of the best recruit pistol shot in the Force. Another “B” Division member, Const. J.E. Pitcher of St. John's detachment was the 1962 winner of the same trophy.
- Consts. E.J. Sick and R.D. Tinkham were selected to an all star basketball team, the St. John's Capitals. That team was successful in defeating a squad from the University of New Brunswick during the 1964 season.
Source of Information: The First Fifty Years in Newfoundland and Labrador Edited by Gerald Leahy for the RCMP Veterans' Association of Newfoundland and Labrador
Women from Newfoundland & Labrador make policing history
On September 16, 1974, women made Canadian history when they were hired as the country’s first female Mounties. Three women from Newfoundland and Labrador were members of the first RCMP female troop: Gail Courtney, Cheryl LaFosse and Rosemarie Russell - Coffey.
Cst. Russell-Coffey became the first female police officer in Newfoundland and Labrador when she was stationed in Corner Brook in 1975. She had just finished her Education Degree at Memorial University when a friend told her “The Mounties are hiring women!”
Two of these members continue to break ground for women. Gail Courtney and Cheryl LaFosse once again made history when they became the first female members to retire from the RCMP and join the Newfoundland and Labrador chapter of the Vets Association. Which means, women are now retiring from policing!
The hiring of police women in Canada has not only had a significant impact on the RCMP and other police forces, but has also contributed to the changing role of women in the workplace. On September 16, 2009, the RCMP celebrated 35 years of women in policing.
Aunt Lucy's Sheep - Aunt Martha’s Sheep
One of the most popular songs on Newfoundland airwaves during the seventies was “Aunt Martha's Sheep.”
The song was recorded by Dick Nolan and tells the story of a little old lady from Carmanville whose sheep was stolen.
It recounts details of an RCMP investigation into the crime and the source of much laughter by Newfoundlanders who contend that the Mountie shared in the booty having been tricked into thinking it was moose.
The reputation of the Force was redeemed somewhat when, in a later song, it was learned that the Mountie was actually a Newfoundlander from Harbour Grace.
Members from the Burin Peninsula and St. John's G.I.S. did not want to fall prey to any such trap when they responded to a complaint on February 6, 1973, from Aunt Lucy Cluett of Frenchman's Cove that her sheep had been stolen.
Ironically she had been listening to Nolan's recording when her attention turned to the source of a noise outside and was shocked to see two men stealing a sheep from her barn.
Aunt Lucy followed the example of Aunt Martha by calling the local RCMP Detachment. Recognizing the significance, our members pulled out all stops including the use of roadblocks with no immediate success. A local police spokesperson assured the curious public that no one had eaten any moose.
The thieves, in their haste, left behind their battery lantern which led to their identification. Due to the team efforts of St. Lawrence and Burin Detachments assisted by St. John's Subdivision G.I.S., two residents of Port au Bras and one from Fox Cove were found in possession of the remains of the stolen mutton. The Port au Bras residents became known as the 'mutton brothers.'
Dick Dew in his account of this story published in the RCMP “Quarterly” reported that as the three defendants left the courtroom in Grand Bank having been convicted they were humiliated by well-wishers with a series of baas. The remaining members of the Division, especially those who hailed from Mainland points, were growing tired of being asked the difference between the taste of moose and that of sheep. They were grateful to members who brought this matter to a successful conclusion.
Story published in The Mounties: The First Fifty Years in Newfoundland and Labrador, edited by Gerald Leahy, for the RCMP Veterans' Association of Newfoundland and Labrador.
A Civilian Member’s perspective: The day that changed the RCMP
Helen Cleary-Escott – When I joined the RCMP in 1998, I had no idea what a Civilian Member was. I ended a career in broadcasting and began making the transition to the RCMP way of doing things. It was huge learning curve.
I considered it a huge honour to work for an organization as prestigious as the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and immediately set out to learn as much as I could about the Force.
I began to realize that the rich history and image of the Mountie in the scarlet tunic on the horse was more than a good public relations campaign, it was the foundation of our country. One that all Canadians were proud of.
The day that history truly began to make sense to me was on March 3rd 2005 when four Mounties were killed in Mayerthorpe, Alberta.
The day after it happened I flew to Regina, Saskatchewan to attend a Civilian Member course being held at our world famous Depot. In true RCMP fashion, things were to return to normal immediately and so the course went ahead.
The Commanding Officer of Depot, C/Supt. Curt Tugnum opened the course. That Monday was a hard day for him. It was the first Monday after the shooting of the four members in Mayerthorpe, Alberta and that afternoon, he would watch his own son graduate from Depot. His words to us will stay with me forever. He said, "Do you think that if I didn’t believe we were offering the best training possible to our members, that I would give my own son that badge?" It said a lot to me.
We attended a graduation and watched the newest members of the RCMP perform their drill manoeuvres with precision timing. As their names were called to receive their badges, their parents rushed to take pictures. I couldn't help but notice the faces of the parents in the crowd. Beaming with pride but as a mother myself, it was easy to spot the worry in their eyes and you knew what they were thinking. Just three weeks earlier, Brock Myrol's loved ones sat in these same seats watching him proudly accept his badge.
For almost a week we watched new cadets double time around Depot with their fists clenched against their chest, running to classes with their bright blue shoulder flashes. The more experienced students proudly displaying the red stripe on their shoulder flash while learning to walk in their new boots.
We also had the honour of attending the national memorial service via video in the drill hall with the cadets and staff.
The hall was full of cadets, some still wearing their civilian clothes, cadets who had earned their first uniform, cadets who were almost finished and an assortment of Depot staff. I watched the cadets during the service as the camera panned over the portraits of the four fallen members and their grieving families and I wondered what was going through their heads. How many were rethinking their decisions? How many wanted to go home? How many were determined to stay?
Throughout the ceremony, the country was captivated by the magnitude of this unprecedented service and overwhelmed by the strength of the family members who took their turn at the podium. After the service ended, I watched the faces of the cadets as they marched out of the drill hall. I didn't see anyone second guessing their decision to join the Force. I didn't see anyone crying to go home. I saw cadets that walked a little taller as they realized they were now part of an organization of excellence. That they were not training for a job, they were accepting a life style and joining a family.
The civilian member orientation course was a success. Being surrounded by the history at Depot and listening to the various subject experts left us with a better understanding of what it meant to be a civilian member in the RCMP. But it took the death of four members in Mayerthorpe, the day the country will never forget, to remind us that the RCMP will always be Canada’s national symbol of pride.
“B” Division’s Civilian Member committee was formed in 2009. It was a first for the Division. The executive consists of five permanent Cms:
Chair: Helen Escott
Co-Chair: Anne James
Secretary: Kyle Strong
Two additional CMs: Denise Philpott/ Felicity Nuttall
SRRs: Terry Trainor and retired SRR, Roy Hill.
Where’s Namibia? B Division members volunteer for the RCMP’s first peacekeeping mission
The RCMP participated in its first overseas peacekeeping mission in 1989 when Commissioner N.D. Inkster sent out a Force wide message looking for volunteers to go to Namibia, Africa. The RCMP’s Namibian Task Force would pick 100 members who would make history and begin a 20-year history of peacekeeping around the world.
Sgt. Brian Campbell (ret.) had 22 years service when he read Commissioner Inkster’s message. The first thing he did was go home and find Namibia on the map. Campbell remembers, “I recall the day the message was circulated throughout the Force. If you were chosen, the selection process, the preparation with family, departure for a period of six months, all had to be said and done within a month.” It was an incredible undertaking. He adds, “I guess in retrospect, the ultimate challenge was talking to my wife and two teenage daughters about it and discussing the six-month deployment to a country that had a history of war and civil unrest.”
With his family’s blessings, he put his name in the hat along with 2000 other applications. He recalls, “Within a short period of time, I received a message that I was on the list.” Members from Newfoundland and Labrador must have rated high because four others also made the list: Gary Barnes, Dick Corcoran, Gary Noftall and Andy Burpee.
Orientation was fast and furious in Ottawa with meet and greets, new uniforms, inoculation and preparations for departure. Four days later they left Canada for Africa. Their first stop was Lagos, Nigeria, and then onto the capital city of Windhoek for more orientation, equipment, UN drivers license, and transfer to a town called Kamanjab, 460 kms. SW of Windhoek. The United Nations Transition Assistance Group was anxious to get the Canadians located, as the reputation of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was renowned in the policing world. Campbell says, “It didn't take all that long to realize that we did have the background in operations and administration to establish our police units.”
“We lived in a remote and isolated part of the world for six months but the Canadians were always cordially and enthusiastically received and the small Canadian shoulder patch on our UN uniform was always recognized” he says proudly.
With the peacekeepers on guard, Namibia held its first independent election. The world was watching and they had to ensure neither votes nor voters were tampered with. Campbell spent seven nights in a jail cell guarding their votes. “The whole process went extraordinarily well. It was great to be part of this team and see history being made.”
Campbell recalls, “We went from the most democratic country in the world to a country that had experienced war and strife for twenty years. Our presence gave them hope that they would become a country that would someday experience what they had only heard about - being free with a democratic process.”
This first group of 100 paved the way for future peacekeepers. Campbell states, “I firmly believe that we did and that the RCMP was well respected then in this forum as it is in current missions.” The first peacekeepers did not have the luxury of laptops and digital cameras. They sent their families letters and kept diaries. Communication by phone was frustrating and awkward at the best of times. They shared a 10 x 20 foot room in which they had to eat, sleep, and cook and their shower was a discarded Javex bottle that they punched holes in.
For 20 years, Canada has deployed police officers to international peace missions around the world. They assist in rebuilding and strengthening police services in countries that have experienced conflict or upheaval. By building the capacity of foreign police to maintain law and order, Canadian police, in cooperation with international partners, help create a safer and more stable environment.
To date, there have been 2,800 deployments of 2,300 Canadian police to more than 50 peace missions around the world. Campbell is proud he was part of the first mission. “Our humour, esprit de corps, comradery and sense of accomplishment in isolation in a remote part of the world was something I’ll never forget. The last notation in my handwritten diary closed with ‘memories of a lifetime’.”
Campbell came to Newfoundland and Labrador in 1967 when he graduated from Depot. He retired in 2006 with 39 years service in this province.
A Newfoundlander by choice
On a bitterly cold day in December 1955, Bob Healey and four of his troop mates boarded the train in Regina, Saskatchewan having just completed nine months of recruit training in the RCMP. The eager officers were bound for Newfoundland - a relatively new province of Canada.
None of us had ever been to this province before. “We looked forward with excitement and some trepidation to our new postings,” Mr. Healey recalls. The young men soon found themselves crossing the Gulf of St. Lawrence on the Cabot Strait. “It was a wild ride and the following morning the captain informed us that it was the roughest crossing he himself had ever made. I for one had no trouble believing him. Five landsmen as we were, didn't fare well in those rough seas and I for one, spent a good many hours bent over the toilet bowl, sometimes colloquially referred to as 'The big white telephone.'” If such were the case, Mr. Healey says, he made “several long distance calls.”
Travel across Newfoundland, in those early days, was by train only. The Trans Canada Highway had yet to be built. Roads were gravel and rough. Looking back, Mr. Healey recalls he and his young comrades had a unique experience of traveling on “The Bullet.” “We traveled in our dress uniforms at that time, Red Serge if you like, and we mixed, I think, comfortably with loggers and others who were fellow travelers. Being Canadian from other parts of Canada, snow was not new to us. I can tell you though, passing through the tunnels of snow on the Gaff Topsails was an experience not soon forgotten.”
The eager officers eventually arrived in St. John's, their Division Headquarters. In less than a month they were posted to their respective detachments. Mr. Healey was posted to Corner Brook and thus began his 35- plus years of service with the RCMP. As a 20-year-old new recruit, Mr. Healey admits he was young and full of vigor but also green as grass. “My landlady, knowing I was traveling to Lark Harbour, Bay Of Islands, asked that I get a fresh codfish for her. Well, as I said, being green I did get one for her and paid the fisherman a dollar. He must have said to himself, 'A Mainlander for sure!' as the fish was probably worth about thirty cents at that time.”
On another occasion, Mr. Healey and another member also from out-of-province were required to travel to both Lark Harbour and Wood's Island. The communities were only accessible by boat which in itself proved challenging, he says. “We traveled in traditional uniform, that is to say, in boots and breeches. Brown serge jacket, etc. Some trips in open dories in choppy seas caused us to wonder how long we'd last if we were thrown into the water dressed as we were.”
When heading to Lark Harbour and Wood's Island, the only boat the officers could get was a schooner type vessel which had two motors, but only one of which worked - and that one wasn't too reliable, Mr. Healey adds. “With two local fishermen as our ship's crew, we set out only to lose power and no amount of coaxing by the crew, could get the motor running again. As I said, this was a schooner style boat and our experienced crew hoisted sail up on the mainmast and we sailed gloriously back into Benoit's Cove. Another great experience for landlubbers.”
In addition to Corner Brook, Mr. Healey also served in six other detachments and had occasion to serve temporarily at a seventh.
“Like all of our members, we dealt with hazardous, sometimes tragic incidents. Fortunately we also experienced some humorous moments as well,” he says going on to relate several amusing yarns including an incident that happened during his time policing in Corner Brook.
Mr. Healey and his partner were dispatched to a tavern on the west side, Broadway, where a man was apparently causing a disturbance. “My companion was a big, husky member who had had previous dealings with the individual involved. Fearing a major incident if the two of us went to arrest the fellow, he instructed me to wait outside. If after a few minutes he didn't come out, I was to enter and help as required.” Soon after however, he emerged with the man involved and placed him in the police car without incident.
“After lodging the man in the cells at the detachment, I asked my partner how he had managed to get the man out of the tavern without a struggle. He calmly replied that the man had challenged him to an arm wrestling match and if beaten, he would come peaceably. Needless to say, our man carried the day. And I think it's safe to say that diplomacy has carried many a day for our members,” says Mr. Healey.
Looking back at his career, Mr. Healey says, “I had a most satisfying career in the RCMP and perhaps more importantly, is that I served my entire career in Newfoundland.” While he holds fond memories of his home in Ontario where he still has family, Mr. Healey says he cares deeply for Newfoundland.
“It's by choice now I consider myself a Newfoundlander,” he says.
A young constable learns from his mistakes
When reminiscing about his policing career with family, friends and fellow members, George Powell says it's always the good times that come to the surface.
“You have lots of rough times but when we start talking stories, it's always the good times we remember,” he says.
And Mr. Powell has many such stories that will stay with him a lifetime.
A native of Southern Ontario, Mr. Powell joined the RCMP in 1952, trained in Ottawa and Regina and then headed to St. John's in 1953.
Barrack life meant acquiring an extended family, he says. “That (living in the barracks) was a strength of days gone by. The people you lived with became your family. Today, you work with people and you go home. You don't have the same kind of esprit de corps,” he says.
A storyteller at heart, Mr. Powell recalls a conversation he had about a young man asking an elder about the key to success.
“He said you have to learn to make the right decisions.”
When the young man asked the senior how you learn to make the right decisions, his answered “by experience.”
“When the young man asked him how do you get experience, he said, by making the wrong decisions,” Mr. Powell laughs.
Life is all about making mistakes but learning from them, he adds.
Mr. Powell learned much from his experiences policing in St. John's, Grand Falls, Botwood, and Grand Bank.
He's also served in New Brunswick, Ontario and British Columbia. After retiring in Vancouver (at the rank of Chief Superintendent) in 1988 he moved back to St. John's.
“I did about half of my service in Newfoundland,” Mr. Powell, who has two sons, says.
During his early years, traveling throughout Newfoundland, always by train, was never easy, he says.
“We had to escort prisoners... we'd leave Grand Falls about ten o'clock at night and get in St. John's about noon the next day. We dropped off our prisoners at the penitentiary then took the five o'clock train back to Grand Falls,” he recalls.
During those early years, RCMP members wore many hats, in addition to their Stetson. “In those days all of our patrols were one member. And oftentimes, there was just one of us on duty. There was very little back-up,” he says.
RCMP members took on the role of social worker, welfare officer, counsellor and letter writer. Learning new skills was one of the positives about choosing a career as a Mountie, Mr. Powell says. “I worked in general policing, I was in criminal investigations, in administration, security service, on the street, in research, spent two years working with the Solicitor General's department and with all those job changes I didn't have to change employer.”
One of the downsides of policing decades ago was the short notice given about a pending transfer,” he says. “I was sitting down in the lock-up with a prisoner one afternoon. The fellow I was working with had to go back to the office to pick up some documents. He came back and said, 'You're transferred.'” Two days later, he was indeed re-posted from St. John's to Grand Falls.
“For a single person like I was at the time, it was much easier to transfer,” he says, his glass half-full rather than half-empty.
Mr. Powell recalls attending his first autopsy not in a hospital but in a barn by kerosene lamp a far cry from what would come later in his career: working on the streets in Toronto.
“There were no facilities so they had to do it in a barn. It was cold there. It was a sudden death, a young person. So we could take the specimens and return it (the remains) to the family.” In those days, Mr. Powell recalls crimes such as break and entries were simple; drugs were non-existent.
“And, of course, there were bootleggers and those making homebrew because there were no liquor stores across the province. They had to send to St. John's to get their liquor.”
RCMP members in this province were glad to work beside former Rangers (55 who integrated into the RCMP) and Constabulary members (22 who traded their uniform for an RCMP uniform), Mr. Powell says.
“I worked with both. And I acquired a lot of items of historical significance from when I worked with them. Now, my wife calls it junk,” Mr. Powell laughs.
While he admits he “had some crummy assignments along the way” Mr. Powell says you always move on and learn from life experiences. “If you do nothing, you'll never learn a thing,” he says.
I'm in the jailhouse now: Memories from the front line
When Gerald Leahy joined the RCMP in his home province of New Brunswick in 1956 he was thrilled when first posted to Newfoundland.
I was only in St. John's for about two months when they gave me about five hours to get ready to transfer to Grand Bank. I had no idea where the other member was taking me. It seemed we were driving on and on and on, all on dirt road,” he laughs.
Mr. Leahy had no idea that much of his policing duties would involve testing people for drivers' licenses, issuing bus permits and answering calls on the detachment's “party line.”
Private lines, even for police, didn't come in effect until later, he says.
“And we spent many a night walking the beach... with word that someone had gone to St. Pierre (to bring back illegal liquor). It was a cat and mouse adventure. They were making all this money at bootlegging but they could hardly afford to pay a $2.00 fine when they got caught.”
One funny story that stays with him, Mr. Leahy recalls occurred during a prisoner escort from Grand Bank to Harbour Grace. The man was not dangerous, he says, rather had failed to pay some tickets.
Mr. Leahy stopped at Goobies, with his prisoner, for lunch.
After putting a quarter in the nickelodeon (juke box) he got called away for a few moments, not having time to punch in his next couple of song choices. Leaving the prisoner at the table, he asked a taxi driver sitting at a nearby table to make the choices for him.
“Halfway through our meal the song comes on 'I got stripes and I'm in the jailhouse now,' Mr. Leahy laughs at the appropriate Johnny Cash song.
Mr. Leahy's early Newfoundland postings also included Whitbourne, Goose Bay and Bonavista.
While today considered non-policing duties, back in his early days of policing, RCMP members were responsible for ensuring the people in a particular community got a salt rebate from the government depending on the amount of salt they'd used.
“We provided the documentation showing how much they'd used and we provided rabbit licences. And we never questioned doing any of that,” he laughs.
Mr. Leahy married Hannah Forsey. They have five children and 15 grandchildren.
In his early years of policing in this province, it wasn't unusual for the RCMP to be both the investigator and prosecutor on the same case.
“There was no crown prosecutor. That happened when I was in Bonavista and in Labrador,” he says.
Mr. Leahy transferred to New Brunswick in 1970 where he was commissioned before being transferred to Ottawa.
When the opportunity to return to Newfoundland came in 1977 he jumped at the opportunity.
“I ran into an officer who'd served here (Newfoundland) and was looking after transfers around the country. I had a quick discussion with him in the washroom. He was looking for someone to go to Newfoundland,” Mr. Leahy recalls.
When asked if he'd be interested, Mr. Leahy told the officer that he'd need some time to think about it.
“When he said, 'Okay, I'll do that.' I said, 'Okay, I've thought about it. I'll go!'” Mr. Leahy laughs.
Mr. Leahy remained in Newfoundland for over a decade before being named Commanding Officer of the RCMP in Nova Scotia.
He also spent almost five years as the force's director of personnel in Ottawa eventually retiring from the force in 1994 after 37 years.
At the time of his retirement he'd reached the rank of Assistant Commissioner.
“I left my office at five o'clock on my last day and went home feeling that I did the best I could. Sometimes the old nostalgia sets in and you think you'd like to be back. But then you tell yourself: don't be so foolish, you had your turn,” Mr. Leahy laughs.
Newfoundland: Better than home
Originally from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, Larry Power joined the force and arrived in St. John's for his first posting in 1955.
“Around the end of your training, the training officer would call you in and ask where you wanted to be posted. I told them I grew up on the water and that I didn't want to go to the prairies. But I had no problem coming to Newfoundland.”
At the time, he says, television was in its infancy. His image of Newfoundland was of a few houses and some fishing stages.
“Then when I got off the train (in St. John's) I looked around and I thought, Jeez, this is better than home. There were all kinds of stores and a barbershop. I'd come from a small community so this was great,” he says.
During his career, Mr. Power also policed in Grand Falls, Stephenville Crossing, Harbour Grace, Bell Island, Holyrood, St. George's and Corner Brook.
“In my early days a police officer was like a priest or a doctor. We were thought to be the hierarchy of the community,” he says.
Community policing back in those early days meant engrossing yourself in the community and working with your neighbours to get whatever job needed to be done, done, he says.
“When I went to St. George's, I got on the recreation committee and we built a rink. I played ball and I played hockey. We got the young fellows in high school and we'd teach them some police holds. That was what community relations was about back then. It wasn't structured like it is today.”
Policing today has changed in other ways as well, Mr. Power says including how members respond to calls. “If anything happens today, a shooting or a barricade situation, they have different groups they send out, probably 20 or 30 members.”
In his day, Mr. Power says, no matter what the situation, it wasn't unusual to handle such calls with very little help.
“But you learn to live with that. And at that time you felt you were safe. We didn't even wear a side arm when we went on night patrol.”
Mr. Power recalls responding to his first bank robbery on Duckworth Street.
The fact that he responded to the call, unarmed, was never questioned, he says.
“We got a call that buddy had a shot gun and we had to set up a road block on the Trans Canada Highway to make sure he didn't get out of town. Here's two of us (members) standing on the highway stopping cars. And as far as we knew the fellow was coming towards us. And here we were, we didn't even have a shotgun,” he says.
Mr. Power downplays the seriousness of the situation.
“That didn't happen every day. And if you look at the drugs and the foolishness on the go today, in my day, most of what you'd have to face was a fellow drunk, with a drop of homebrew.”
Newfoundlanders were great thinkers when it came to finding places to hide their homebrew and other illegal liquor from the police.
“One place they'd have it in was a barrel and they'd hide the barrel under a hamper of dirty clothes so if you went in to search you'd never think it would be there.”
Bottles of booze were also hid in rubber boots, coat sleeves and storage sheds.
“You got to get up early in the mornings to beat them. I always said if the government could figure out how outport Newfoundlanders get around them, it would be some government,” he laughs.
Mr. Power served 22 years with the RCMP before he retired from the force in 1978. He continued his relationship with the RCMP. For the next two decades he worked fire and fraud investigations, working closely with both the RNC and the RCMP as special assistant to the Fire Commissioner.
“I got paid by a different group and I didn't wear a uniform but I basically did the same work,” he says.
Mr. Power and his wife, a native of Grand Falls have three children and five grandchildren.
After surviving a bout of cancer, he remains active in the community. He serves as vice president of the province's police and peace officers' memorial as well as national president of the RCMP Veterans' Association. “I'm proud of my service with the RCMP. I still think it's the best police force in the world,” he says.
Labrador in the early days
While the duties of RCMP members have changed drastically over time, even back in the 1950s when Malcolm (Mac) McGregor joined the force, responding to complaint calls was part of an officer's duties.
Fresh out of recruit training, the British Columbia native was quick to pick up the phone at RCMP headquarters in St. John's and head to a domestic dispute. “It was a complaint from a lady in Torbay who was complaining bitterly about Crackies. I thought that was the name of her next door neighbours because she said the Crackies next door were coming into her garden and doing all sorts of damage.” When his supervisors read the complaint, it turned out to be the joke of the month, Mr. McGregor recalls, and for him, one of many learning experiences about Newfoundland dialect.
Mr. McGregor was delighted to volunteer to come to Newfoundland for his first posting in 1956. However, he soon discovered that this province in February is a far cry from British Columbia early in a New Year. “We were several days stuck in the ice crossing the gulf and this was the first time I'd ever seen ice in salt water. It was a frightening experience for me down in the bowels of that ship listening to the grinding of ice.”
After finally arriving in Port Aux Basques, Mr. McGregor headed, by train, to St. John's. “We were stuck at Gaff Topsails for a couple of days. So, by this time I was starting to have doubts about whether or not this had been a wise decision,” he laughs. While it helps that the Newfoundlanders he rubbed shoulders with on the train were friendly, Mr. McGregor says he couldn't understand what they were saying to him. “The porters on the train spoke so quickly that I would get about one word out of ten. Then we pulled into the old train station (on Water Street) and there was an RCMP car with two fellows in uniform. It was so good to see them. I could have kissed them - until they opened their mouths and spoke to me. They were both Newfoundlanders and I couldn't understand what they were talking about,” he laughs.
Two months after arriving in St. John's, Mr. McGregor was transferred to Goose Bay, Labrador. After spending less than two months in Goose Bay, he was uprooted to Battle Harbour a single constable detachment at the time. “Battle Harbour is on an island and there were only seven families there during the winter months. The rest would move up the bay to Mary's Harbour and other places.”It wasn't unusual to be stuck on the island for weeks at a time, Mr. McGregor recalls of the ice-packed waters surrounding the island. Transportation and communication were almost non-existent, he recalls. “I don't think I had to make an arrest the whole time I was there. They were too busy trying to make a living. So I'd help people deal with fishery related matters and help them deal with various correspondence dealing with government departments,” he says. Mr. McGregor had at his disposal a fisheries boat for making patrols. “I'd go south as far as the Red Bay detachment and I'd go north up to the Seal Islands/Spotted Island area. The only communication we had with headquarters in St. John's was a Marconi station at Battle Station where I could send a telegram.” In picture: The Battle Harbour Detachment Class Patrol Vessel.
The telegram was sent by Morse Code, he recalls.
“It was late in the fall, getting close to Christmas. The coastal boat was off the run. I got a message from Seal Islands saying 'Come quick. You are wanted.'”The message had been sent from Frenchman's Islands. Mr. McGregor hitched a ride on a small coastal freighter which was making its last trip north to Cartwright. “When I got there I found out that there had been a sudden death over at Seal Islands,” he recalls.
When he arrived at Seal Islands, Mr. McGregor was presented with the body of a male who'd been packed in salt.
“There were no skidoos or vehicles in those days. They only used dog teams. So they had the man put up on a platform so the dogs couldn't get at him.”
The man had left a home in the community after playing a game of cards with friends. His body had been found floating in the water under a fishing stage. On examining the body, Mr. McGregor's found a bruise on the man's head. Therefore, he says, foul play had to be ruled out which meant getting a message through to headquarters in St. John's requesting an aircraft be sent to the island to take the body to St. Anthony for an autopsy. “I waited a day to get an answer back. I was told an aircraft would not be arriving and that I was to release the body to the next of kin. I was told to go into the hospital in Mary's Harbour and ask the nurse to issue me a death certificate.”Not only did Mr. McGregor release the body to the family but also helped dig the grave for burial. “There were only two other men on the island and by this time the ground was frozen solid. What a time we had trying to dig the ground for the grave.”
While working along the coast, he says, not only did he help the people but they looked after him as well.
“There was very little crime and we were well treated. People assisted us as much as we assisted them,” he says.
Mr. McGregor also policed in Cartwright, Wabush, Corner Brook, Gander, Holyrood, and Harbour Grace. By the time he retired in 1994 with over 38 years service he was working as section NCO. “When I came here I'd planned on staying on the island for a couple of years and then working my way back west. But fortunately I met my wife (Dianna Butt) who was a nurse from Woody Point. We decided to stay here. We have three sons (one who has followed in his father's footsteps). We have a great life,” he says.
The first Public Service Employees
Mary Murphy joined the RCMP as a Public Service Employee six months after the Force was officially recognized in the Province on August 1, 1950.
Murphy was secretary to the officer in charge for 42 years. She says, “I loved going to work every day.”
Retirement was hard for Mary. “I missed the camaraderie,” she adds. “There was always something happening. We were always treated so well by the members. They were all so respectful towards us.”
Mary retired in 1997. “I would have kept working. It was an honour being part of the RCMP.”
She remembers when the Force first came to Corner Brook. “The RCMP was something you read about or heard about. There was such pride in the community when they came.”
Joan Gillam became a Public Servant June 1, 1956. A Mountie was boarding at her mother’s house in Corner Brook and told her about a job opening in the detachment as a Record’s Clerk. She applied and stayed with the Force for 44 years.
“I wouldn’t have worked that long if I didn’t enjoy it,” she says with a laugh.
She was president of the local for approximately 30 years. “When I joined the Public Service, membership was 50 cents.”
Looking back over the years, one of the hardest events she worked through was the death of Constable William Moss. “Being in the office and hearing the news was hard,” she recalls.
Seventy-eight members of the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary were sent to assist the RCMP during the Badger Riot. Constable William Moss of Port Blandford was a member of the Constabulary who tragically lost his young life in the violent labour dispute in 1959.
Constable Moss died on March 12, 1959, at Grand Falls, two days after receiving a severe blow to the head from a piece of pulpwood during an altercation.
Now that she is retired she keeps very active by playing golf and she has been in charge of the bridge club for 30 years.
“I still drop into the detachment from time to time and they call me when it’s time for the annual Christmas dinner.”
Gillam says she would do it all over again. “It was fun going to work. I don’t regret a day of it.”
From being shot to meeting Joey Smallwood, it was a great 36 years!
When Murray Evans joined the RCMP 56 years ago, recruiters were as interested in his physique as they were his intelligence. The boy from New Brunswick was 18 years old at the time.
“The first time we went to the RCMP office, the sergeant said: 'Go home and measure your chest and make sure it measures up.' It had to be so much in expansion,” Mr. Evans recalls with a smile. Delighted that their chest sizes were acceptable, Mr. Evans and his friend went back to the office and wrote the entrance exam. “My friend who encouraged me to join didn't pass the test so I was left alone,” Evans says. Evans, a carpenter at the time, soon found himself trading in his tools for a Stetson hat and red serge.
“I went up to Fredericton and the sergeant said: 'You better know, you're signing away five years of your life, young man.' They sent me out on the train that evening across Canada to British Columbia to the Fairmont Barracks.”Mr. Evans was raised in the fishing community of Lorenville, on the outskirts of St. John, New Brunswick. After completing his RCMP training he was posted to St. John's, Newfoundland.
“I was so pleased to come here because when I was working with a roofing company they all talked about Newfoundland and how kind Newfoundlanders were,” Mr. Evans says. The train ride across the country was, long, tiring and, in places, breathtaking. “I remember getting off the train in the prairies with my little camera taking pictures of the oxen. Someone was calling out to me but I thought, they aren't going to bother me. But here it was the train was pulling away without me,” Mr. Evans laughs.
Once he arrived in the province, Mr. Evans was told by his supervisors that he'd only be in St. John's for three months before being transferred to rural parts of the province.
Rather than three months, his posting to St. John's spanned three years. Long drives over gravel roads were very much a part of his early duties, he says. “We went all down the Southern Shore and to Harbour Grace. We were with the Preventive Service-Liquor-Highway Patrol we had motorcycles back then, an old Harley Davidson belong to the Ranger force and two English bikes. We were told we had to put 200 miles on them each day,” Mr. Evans laughs.
The young men often find their own ways of adding miles to the speedometer, he says.
“There were times you'd be on a back road and you'd strike a blueberry patch and you'd pitch the hitch up and let it run for a few miles.”
Among the highlights of his early career, Mr. Evans says was meeting and spending time with the late Premier Joseph R. Smallwood. The premier had an apartment at Fort Townsend which gave him both privacy and security working near the police in Constabulary Square. Evans says during his meetings with the premier, Mr. Smallwood was always a gentleman and great person to have a conversation with. “I had an occasion to be with Premier Smallwood just before his stroke, for the last time,” he says.
When he wasn't busy in the office, Evans and his comrades were policing in the community earning their title “Jack of all Trades.”
While stationed at St. John's, Mr. Evans met his wife Stella Whitten from nearby Petty Harbour. The couple, who have two children and five grandchildren, recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.
The next 25 years of his career was spent serving at various other detachments in Newfoundland including Harbour Grace, Glovertown, Ferryland, Whitbourne, Labrador City, Gander, and Corner Brook. While much of his duties were routine, policing back in by-gone days also meant risking one's life. While stationed outside the St. John's area, Mr. Evans came face-to-face with the barrel of a shotgun.
He and Stella had two young children at the time, he responded to the call about a mentally ill man shooting windows out of houses.
“Myself and another constable went down. We got out by the old potato house and crawled down through the grass. I got in and jumped on his back to try to knock him down, he wouldn't go down. He started to turn the shotgun on me so I ran out and around the corner but there was a fence there and I couldn't go any further. I turned back and he shot me and got me in the corner of the eye. I shot him then in the leg and he fell down.” Although bleeding himself from the head, Evans rendered first aid to the man.
Both were taken to hospital where Evans was treated for his eye wound.
Whether traveling by boat, train, skidoo, car or cycle, Mr. Evans says he enjoyed all of his police postings both in this province and elsewhere in the country. He retired in 1990 after 36 years with the RCMP. “I always said if there's ever a day I don't completely love my work, I'd leave. But that never happened and that's why I stayed for so long,” he says.
Crash and burn - But he always walked away
The Staff Sgt. Bob MacKinnon story
September 21, 1971 was a beautiful day. Twenty-five year old Cst. Bob MacKinnon had 6 years in the Force when he was called into Sgt. Clyde Strong’s office and told about a lost hunter in the Star Lake area. The RCMP aircraft was coming into Deer Lake on a schedule flight and it would be used to search for the lost hunter. So Cst. MacKinnon and Cst. Barry Sibley, who was booked on the flight for his transfer to Labrador, drove to Deer lake together and boarded the flight.
The pilot was Staff Sgt. John Clancher. Cst. Bernie Johnston, the dog handler also joined the search. They flew over Star Lake and could see where the hunters had set up camp. A couple of them were still at the site. The pilot then flew further down the lake. He turned the aircraft into the wind and started to land on top of the lake. All of a sudden, the plane started to have engine problems, MacKinnon noticed the propellers had stopped and watched as the pilot pulled and pushed on the throttle. In horror, he watched as Staff Sgt. Clancher tried to restart the engine but it would not turn over. Clancher turned around to the passengers and said, “Get ready. We’re going to have to crash land.” The aircraft began to fall from the sky. MacKinnon says, “It was the scariest day of my life! It only took seconds for the plane to crash but it seemed like an eternity.” MacKinnon says Clancher held the plane til the very last minute, he was heading in nose first and at the last second, pulled back on the stick and tried to land her on the pontoons as much as he could. The plane hit a wooded area and bounced, landed another 3 or 4 hundred feet and bounced again. When the plane hit the ground, a pontoon came up through the floor and struck MacKinnon’s seat crashing into his knee smashing the tendons. He lost consciousness for a few minutes.
When MacKinnon came to, Sgt. Clancher and Bernie Johnston were out of the aircraft. They were desperately trying to pry open the side door which had buckled on impact. Barry Sibley was standing inside the plane trying help them open the door. The front of the aircraft was on fire. MacKinnon remembered that they had filled it full of fuel before they left Deer Lake. He knew the plane was going to blow up and could hear the tanks hissing under the pressure. He was in the front of the plane and knew the only way out for him, because of his leg, would be to climb over the pilot’s seat and get out through the pilot’s door. He was wearing his tunic and brown belt and it got hooked up in something, he tried several times to pull himself free, and adds, “I never had the sense of mind to undo the belt in the panic of the moment.” He finally freed himself and could hear a crunching sound. He looked back through the flames and realized Clancher and Johnston had opened the back door and was able to get Barry Sibley out. MacKinnon jumped out of the pilot’s door, with his shattered leg, he dragged himself and crawled as fast as he could away from the plane. Within seconds he heard a rumbling sound, followed by a loud bang, the plane burst into flames.
Two of the hunters from the camp, made their way to the crash site and helped the four members back to their camp. They spent the night there waiting to be rescued, but no one knew they had crashed. The pilot had filed a flight plan but no one at the flight control tower in Deer Lake checked to see if they had made it. When the shift changed at the tower, an air traffic controller noticed they had not been heard from and decided to follow up on it by calling all the airports in Newfoundland and Labrador looking for the RCMP plane. The officer in charge of the Corner Brook Sub Division, Supt. Bill Halleran called MacKinnon’s wife at 11:30 PM and asked if Bob was home. MacKinnon says, “Of course then my wife knew there was something wrong.” She spent the night walking the floor waiting for news with a six month old baby in her arms.
The next morning, MacKinnon estimates it to be around 9:00 AM, they started to hear some planes. They could see the planes fly over the crash site and next came the big helicopter from the Buchan’s Mine. It landed near by and transported MacKinnon to hospital. The other three passengers did not receive any serious injuries from the crash. MacKinnon jokes, “When my wife came into the room and seen me, she passed out and ended up in the bed next to me.” After several surgeries, MacKinnon was back on his feet and back to work.
Bob MacKinnon retired as a Staff Sergeant in 2003 with 38 years service. He says, “If it wasn’t for Staff Sgt. Clancher keeping his cool the way he did and bringing that plane down the way he did, there would be no survivors.” Clancher went on to have a long career with the RCMP in British Columbia, he is now deceased. MacKinnon says he lost track of Cst. Sibley and Sgt. Johnston.
It took him a couple of months before he could fly again. He was boarding an Eastern Provincial Airlines plane and was terrified. The stewardess noticed he was starting to panic and asked if everything was alright. He told her about his last flight and she tapped him on the shoulder and said, “You’ll be alright. Don’t worry.” As the plane took off, he thought, “I hope nothing like that every happens to me again.” Nine years later, he was in a car accident on the Northern Peninsula that almost took his life. Shortly after than, the Force put him at a desk job.
The brave man on horse back:
An uncle, a soldier finally at rest under the good earth of home
By John A. Whelan – The war memorial in front of Sacred Heart Church in Placentia immortalizes 39 yong men from that parish who died in the Great War of 1914-1918. One of those men was Sgt. Patrick J. Whelan, age 23, killed in action on April 25, 1917 in the battle of Vimy Ridge.
I was six years old in the summer of 1942 when my family moved from Argentia, where the Americans were building their big naval station, to my father’s hometown of Jerseyside to live with my grandfather who was a widower.
The picture that hung on the wall at the foot of the stairs in my grandfather’s house was of a young man on horseback. When I inquired who it was, I was told it was my uncle, “Poor Pat” in uniform, as a member of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police (RNWMP). The man on horseback seemed to me to be such a brave and romantic figure that I wanted to know more about him. I was intrigued by this man whom my dad and my grandfather fondly referred to as “Poor Pat.”
My dad was born in 1900. He was 11 years old when Pat left home at age 18 to go westward, overseas to Canada, where he worked for a year in the coal mines at Sydney before traveling west to Regina and joining the RNWMP.
Pat served at several postings on the prairies. In 1914, war broke out in France and Canada began to mobilize to contribute to the aid of the British. In 1915, Pat left the Mounties and enlisted with the 50th Battalion in Calgary. He was sent to France in 1916 and was injured several times in front-line action. On April 25, 1917, he was killed in action during a night reconnaissance mission at Fresnoy, in the battle for Vimy Ridge. He was buried in a military cemetery at Villers du Bois near Arras.
On April 23, 1917, two days before Poor Pat’s death, the Royal Newfoundland Regiment was in combat at LaFosse’s Farm, about 50 miles south of Fresnoy. One of the famed “Blue Puttees” injured that day was Poor Pat’s brother, Sgt. John J. Whelan. Permanently handicapped and invalided to England, John survived the Great War and went on to become one of Newfoundland’s storied mariners. “Captain Jack” as he was best known, served again as a Naval Lt. Cdr. During the Second World War.
When the Newfoundland Railway opened the Placentia branch line around 1890, the terminal for the south coast service and North Sydney was loaded at Jerseyside. The spur line leading from the railway station on top of the hill to the dock was built along the side of Castle Hill. The rail line cut through the Chimney Garden the large meadow on the side of the hill where my grandparent’s family lived.
Grandma Whelan as never comfortable about this iron monster that invaded her backyard and she persuaded my grandfather to build a new house down on the flat near his fishing property. In 1903, the family moved from the Chimney Garden to what they called the “beach house.”
It wasn’t long, however, before my grandmother began to miss her former flower and vegetable gardens. As the new house was built on beach rock and sand, the only solution was to bring in the soil. This arduous task fell to the two oldest boys, John and Pat. After school, weekends and on holidays, the boys would toil with wheelbarrow and horse cart to carry soil down from their old homestead to the new place. Eventually, Grandma got her new flower and vegetable patches and the boys left home for work and war.
When we were growing up in Jerseyside, every spring when gardening time came, Mom tasked us with the job of getting the gardens ready. Dad always commiserated with us about the work involved but reminded us time and time again how hard Poor Pat and John had worked to put them there in the first place, and now Poor Pat lies thousands of miles from home, in foreign soil.
In 2002, my wife Joan and I, along with friends went to France. Included in the things to do was a visit to Beaumont Hamel and a visit my uncle Pat’s grave at Villers au Bois. Before leaving for France, I went to the front yard of our old home at Jerseyside and took a cup full of soil from deep in the flower bed and then put some in a small medicine vial.
I found the cemetery and Poor Pat’s grave. I knelt and said a prayer for this uncle I had never known, except for the picture at the foot of the stairs of the proud Mountie. The more than 1000 soldiers buried at Villers au Bois all have identical headstones, each with name, rank age, serial number and date of death. Each stone was marked with a cross or a Star of David. On top front is a national crest. The Canadian stones have a maple leaf. On Poor Pat’s grave, however, there is an additional inscription. “In your charity, pray for a faithful soldier from Newfoundland.” It would seem that his Canadian comrades also recognized him, a foreigner, as an exceptional kind of man. I took the vial of earth from my jacket pocket, earth from the very flower beds he had built as a boy and sprinkled it over Poor Pat’s grave. It was a long road from Jerseyside to Vimy Ridge. Now, at least, as my dad had hoped, he would rest under the good earth of home.
They gave their lives
Members killed on duty in Newfoundland and Labrador Two RCMP members have been killed while on duty in Newfoundland and Labrador.
Cst. Terry Hoey:
Cst. Terry Hoey was 21 years old when he was serving in Botwood, November 6, 1958. Cst. Hoey, along with two other RCMP members, responded to a domestic dispute between the owner of a local restaurant and his son. After getting no response from inside the living quarters of the restaurant and fearing for the son’s life, the three members entered a side window and knocked on the living room door. They received no answer and found the door had been heavily barricaded. They called out to the owner and asked him to open the door. Immediately a shotgun blast ripped through the wood of the closed door striking Cst. Hoey in the chest. He died at the scene. A great part of his family’s sorrow was in knowing that Terry had wanted to be a policeman all his life and that wish had led him to his death.
Cst. Robert Amey:
Cst Robert Amey has 24 years old when he was killed December 17, 1964 in Whitbourne. Four men broke out of Her Majesty’s Penitentiary in St. John’s. They stole a car and headed west along the Trans-Canada Highway. Near Whitbourne, they ran through an RCMP roadblock that had been set up by Csts. David Keith and Robert Amey. A chase ensued, and the four fugitives soon abandoned their car and ran for cover. They were discovered hiding in Whitbourne. Even though they were cornered, they refused to surrender. Amey went to the car radio and called for help. When Amey was in the cruiser, the four rushed Cst. Keith and after beating him severely, took away his service revolver. When Amey came running back, he could see that Keith was down and one of the fugitives was armed. Amey attempted to hold the prisoners at gun point but the fugitive fired three shots, one of which hit Amey in the chest, killing him instantly. Using Amey’s gun, Cst. Keith was able to arrest all four fugitives.
The ghost car on the Northern Peninsula
By William Smith (Ret.) – When anyone hears the term “ghost car” they automatically think of an unmarked police car on the side of the road to catch speeders. Well I can tell you that any police employee ever stationed on the Great Northern Peninsula will know there is a real ghost car and it has nothing to do with the police.
Alex McInnis and I were stationed in Port Saunders in the early 70’s and we had heard the stories. The local priest was on his way to Daniel's Harbor one Sunday in the summertime and as everything was a gravel road at that time, and he didn't want to get his suit dusty prior to his service, he pulled out and passed a slower moving car.
Once he got past he looked in his mirror to check on the vehicle and lo and behold there was no car to be seen. He thought it might have gone off the road so he stopped and backed up but no car. This was only one of the “ghost car” stories going around the area.
Budgets were tight at that time and we had one police car. It was in such poor shape that the local garage would only repair it after hours so the public wouldn't know how bad it was.
Anyone who has ever lived in that area will know the winters are most times very cold and harsh. Late one evening when most people had gone to bed a call was received at the Detachment to the effect a break-in had occurred in Port au Choix.
It had snowed just prior to this and there were a few inches of snow on the roads. Anyway Alex and I departed in our prize car and went to the store in the neighboring community. There was absolutely no traffic and when we arrived at the store we noticed one set of tire tracks coming from the driveway.
After our initial investigation we followed the tracks. As we departed the community the tracks went in a northerly direction on the old road heading towards St. Anthony. Bear in mind there was only one set of tracks on the highway and the ones we were making. After several miles our car broke down. This was near midnight and we were miles from anything. It had stopped snowing and turned bitterly cold. It didn't take long for the heat to go out of the car. Even with our storm coats, fur hats and heavy mitts, we rapidly got very cold.
We spent the night taking turns out of the car running up and down the road, waving our arms, trying to get warm and then our face and hands would get so cold we would have to get back in the car for some imagined protection.
On one of these outings we saw the headlights of a car heading our way, off in the distance. This section of the road is fairly straight but there are hills and valleys. When the car would be climbing a hill you could see the lights shine up in the sky. Then all of a sudden the lights went out.
We were devastated and nearly froze to death. We continued our program of trying to keep warm and shortly before 7:00 AM a transport truck was observed coming from the opposite direction. The driver and passenger took us in the cab and brought us to the Detachment at Port Saunders. We told them of the car we had hoped would rescue us and wondered where it was.
Guess what? The only tracks we saw all the way back to Port au Choix were the ones we made and the ones we were following. The lights we saw, never showed up. It was the ghost car of the Northern Peninsula.
Did you know?
The first Rifle & Revolver Club was organized on August 31, 1949 for RCMP members in Newfoundland. A range was constructed beneath the gymnasium on Kenna’s Hill.
The first murder investigation conducted by the RCMP in Newfoundland occurred on November 6, 1950 at St. Phillips when a taxi driver, Eli Clarke discovered the body of 68-year-old Ethel Tucker.
Source of Information: The First Fifty Years in Newfoundland and Labrador – Edited by Gerald Leahy for the RCMP Veterans’ Association of NL.
Humour from the front line
Tracking caribou on Ramea Island
By Tony Greene -- While I was stationed at Burgeo, poaching caribou was always a concern for the police and wildlife officers.
On one occasion the Wildlife officers were doing some checking on caribou they had radio collared in the past. Much to their surprise they were receiving a mortality beep on the main Island of Ramea.
Ramea is a small community and there was no known caribou on the island. Further investigation showed not only the house that the radio frequency was coming from but pin pointed into the northwest corner of the residence.
With search warrant in hand the residence was searched and a fully intact caribou radio collar was located hanging on a set of caribou antlers in the house. The owner had illegally shot the caribou and had kept the collar as a bragging rights trophy.
The fall out from this in such a small community was that the offender was heckled for (not shooting a caribou illegally) keeping the collar and getting caught by the authorities. In a short time there was a poem made up which no doubt later turned into a song. I no longer have the words for the poem but I will always remember the closing line. "If you are hungry and want some meat, give Larry a call, Just wait for the beep!”
How the public sees us
Cst. Sam HOLM – I had a remarkable meeting with a local, that really sums up my experience with Newfoundlanders.
"I was gassing up the PC at a local service station. An elderly man at another pump kept smiling at me and waved several times. I said "Hello" and we began to chat.
The man told me that he really appreciated what the police do and the job we had. He went on to say that he would hate to imagine the state of the town without police around. We talked about Newfoundland in general and I told him I was from out of province however I considered myself extremely lucky to be posted to Newfoundland and Deer Lake specifically.
The man seemed very pleased that I was taking the time to speak with him. When I said "I had better go," he grabbed me by the sleeve of my jacket and I could see tears forming in his eyes. "Don't get hurt." He said to me. "I see all the stories about you Mounties getting killed and hurt on the job. It breaks my heart. I couldn't handle it if you got hurt Cst. HOLM, now that I know you, just please promise me you'll be careful." I told him I would and thanked him for his words. The fact is that I was blown away by this meeting. By far and large I have dealt with police friendly people and am constantly taken aback by the positive attitude shown by the people of Newfoundland.
Going above and beyond the duties
Cst. Kimball Vardy was working general duty in the Baie Verte area when a call came in of a moose MVA on the Baie Verte Highway. He responded and found an elderly man and his wife from New Wes Valley area, shaken up but not physically hurt.
The car was beat up in the front and windshield was smashed in. The moose had come in over the front of the vehicle and landed on the windshield. Luckily enough the man was only driving slow. The woman was shaken up quite a bit and had glass from the windshield in her hair.
Cst. Vardy took the couple to the hospital for a quick check up and to get the woman cleaned up a bit. He asked if they had family or friends in the area, they said "No.” He took them back to the Detachment where the insurance company was informed of the accident and the appropriate paperwork was completed. By now it was lunch time, the couple had no where to go and no way to get there.
Cst. Vardy offered them lunch at his house and a ride to Springdale where they could meet with their son. Vardy served up a feed of moose sausages, homemade bread, jam and tea. Then he arranged a halfway with Springdale Members. Who picked them up and brought the couple to meet their son.
Vardy says, “My thoughts were someday that couple may be my parents, or even me and I would hope that the member I encounter doesn't just do the bare minimum and leave me by the side of the road. The little extra compassion shown to someone goes a long way to developing good community relations.”
The couple went back to NewWes Valley talking about the nice Mountie that helped them out and a short time later Cst. Vardy got a call from his grandmother, who heard the story and was so proud the say he was her grandson. The couple sent him Christmas cards up until the ladies death about four years ago.
All around the circle
When Roland Dawe joined the RCMP in 1966, testing people for their drivers' licence was one of his varied duties.
During his first road test, Cst. Dawe failed a young man who he believed was going to back into a pole. “So, I stopped him,” Mr. Dawe recalls.
Back at the office, his father who was also his NCO insisted he jumped the gun and that the person would not have had a collision. Therefore, instead of having the young man wait the usual two weeks before re-testing, the NCO suggested Dawe retest him again later in the day. “I did,” remembers Dawe, “and this time he hit the pole!”
A native of Seldom, Fogo Island, Mr. Dawe and his wife Jean (Wells) live in Deer Lake where he enjoyed his first posting as a young RCMP officer. “I grew up in Eastern Newfoundland and when they interviewed me for a posting, they asked me if I'd ever lived on the west part of Newfoundland. I told them I'd never been west of Gander,” Mr. Dawe recalls. That's when his supervisors decided Deer Lake would be a good location for him to begin.
Mr. Dawe has also policed in Wabush (Wabush Lake Detachment), as well as Corner Brook City, St. John's, Holyrood, Wesleyville and Bay Verte. “I went all around the circle,” he says. Mr. Dawe served for almost 25 years before retiring. “Corner Brook was always one of my favourite postings. I was posted there two times. It was a great place to live, great people,” he says.
Mr. and Mrs. Dawe have three children and six grandchildren. Two of their children (Lori Canning and Chris Dawe) have followed in their father's policing footstep while another daughter Tara has carved a career in Alberta.
“Anytime you showed up to talk to someone, it was very seldom that they wouldn't talk. Even if they were a suspect, they'd still talk to you if you went to talk to them. The (RCMP) uniform was really respected,” Dawe says.
Like the world was okay
After joining the RCMP in 1965, Earl Roddick spent 15 months standing under the Peace Tower and running around the Governor-General's and Prime Minister's residence. “That's the only time I've ever been there,” he says of his duties assigned to protecting the political hierarchies.
Originally from Westville, Nova Scotia, Mr. Roddick transferred to Corner Brook Newfoundland in 1967 before moving on to serve in Roddickton. “I'm the only Roddick ever to live in Roddickton, Newfoundland,” he laughs. Roddickton was one of his favourite postings. “The communities and those around it were unblemished,” he says. “They had to drag me out of there”
Earl Pilgrim was a young wildlife officer down there. I hit it off with him. It was the first time I was ever in the country to experience what it was all about. We had 15 communities to police by boat, road and by skidoo. The wilderness experience that I had with Earl is one I'll never forget,” he says.
Serving civil summons in these communities was never a hard task, he says. “You just pulled your boat up to the wharf and told somebody who you were looking for. Before you left, you'd probably get involved in a game of cards that evening,” he recalls. “It was like the world was okay.”
It was while stationed in Corner Brook that Mr. Roddick met his wife, Mary Rose Hickey.
“I always refer to my stint in Corner Brook in that I got shot twice there. Once with a guy with a 303 rifle. Then I got shot with cupid,” he laughs. The couple has been married over 40 years.
Mr. Roddick also policed in Flower's Cove, Lewisporte, Bell Island, Labrador City, Bonavista, Marystown, St. John's, Glovertown as well as in several detachments in Nova Scotia. “In those early years policing was a lot different. There was no overtime back then. You went to work and you stayed there until you got the job done, whether it was 12 hours or 24 hours.”
By the time he retired in 2001 at the rank of Staff Sergeant, Mr. Roddick had served 36 years with the RCMP, 32 of these years in this province. “I met some wonderful people while in the RCMP. They're called Newfoundlanders,” he says. While policing in Glovertown, he decided to make the community his home for good. “I built my own home in Cull's Harbour near Glovertown. I went in the woods, cut my logs, hauled them out, took them to the mill then built my house with them. It took me four years but I have it now and I've never regretted my decision to come back here to retire,” he says.
In picture: RCMP Commissioner W. L. Higgitt presents a special commendation to Cst. R.E. Roddick for bravery and determination in subduing an assailant and assisting a comrade who had been seriously injured in a shooting incident on Oct. 24, 1970. Cst. Roddick was injured by a bullet ricochet in an exchange of shots with the suspect, who was later charged with attempted murder in the shooting of Cst. William Ross Black.
Now that’s pulling a rabbit out of a patrol car!
By: Wayne Nichols – Upon being transferred to a small detachment in Newfoundland from larger city detachments in Nova Scotia I soon had to change my policing strategies to suit the communities that I was now responsible for and had to begin to focus more on community relations and small town policing. After overcoming being uncomfortable about being looked at and approached on a daily basis by local community people I started to work on my small town community policing skills. Of course while trying to avoid the moose and rabbits on the road during patrols. Which there were many. Some of which I hit and ran over.
While working in small towns you begin to get to know everyone and from time to time it becomes uncomfortable writing tickets for speeding and Highway Traffic Act Violations. One night in particular I stopped a car load of fellows from a small town on Hwy#410 near Baie Verte. They were driving at excessive speed and upon going through the normal course of duty I issued them a ticket which they were unhappy about but very apologetic. Their reason for speeding was that they had just gotten off work late and had hoped to see a final NHL Hockey game on TV that they didn't want to miss.
Before they left me road side we talked about hockey, moose hunting, rabbit catching, and having a few drinks and a lunch during the game. One fellow commented, " If I had a fresh rabbit tonight I'd have him in the pot and would eat him while watching the game". Of course feeling a little bad for giving them a ticket I said fellows I got just what you need. I have a fresh rabbit in the trunk. Of course they thought I was lying to them and unknown to them I had just struck it while carrying out my patrols in the area. I asked that they wait a minute and I went to the truck of the police car, pulled out the rabbit that I had recently run over and handed it to them. They at first looked at me in disbelief and awe, with smiles on everyone's face and many thank you's they took the rabbit and quickly drove away.
It was an exchange I will always remember and one that paid off many times over after that. I became known as "not a bad fellow" and was always given a friendly wave and assistance in the community when required.
Adventures in Scanner land!
By Marc Trioreau -- I was just out of Depot, working at my first posting. There was another bilingual constable working on the same shift. Being new to the division (Port aux Basques) and most importantly being fresh out of my english language training in Ottawa, no need to say I was struggling with my English. The English taught in Ottawa is not really the same as the one used on the south coast of Newfoundland. So I would often speak French over the radio with the other member. One morning while arriving in the office, the Cpl pulled us in his office and advised us that he had received a complain from the public against us. He went on to say that a lady called the detachment quite upset. She was listening to her scanner the night before and couldn't understand what we were saying and requested that from now on the members talk in English so she would know what was on the go. No need to say that we didn't change a thing, however I got a better understanding of scanner land!
All in a day’s work!
By Raymond Hynes – During the early '90s I was stationed at Harbour Grace detachment and one of the more common duties was the fingerprinting of prisoners. On one evening shift I had to perform just such a task on a prisoner who had been brought in by another member.
The cubicle where prisoners were checked in was also the guard station and served as a fingerprinting post as well. There were washroom facilities for general use, like prisoner and guard use. To speed things up a bit while fingerprinting we would try and do what is call today, multi-tasking. So I would fingerprint the prisoner and while he was getting cleaned up in the bathroom, which is only a meter or so away, I would fill out the personal data on the fingerprint form.
On this particular occasion I was half way through the form when I could not hear clearly what the prisoner's response was to my question , so I turned my head towards the washroom to ask him to repeat . To my astonishment, he had his back to the sink and was washing his hands in the toilet bowl. I nudged Jim French, the gaol guard to look around at what was taking place because I knew no one would believe what I had just witnessed. I ask the prisoner why he was washing his hands in the toilet bowl, to which he explained that he did not want to get the sink dirty. You might say he was flushed with embarrassment when he realized what he had just done.
Now that’s a Mountie!
By Ed Ring – In 1998 I was posted as the junior member in Lewisporte Detachment, and had been out of Depot for less than 6 months. Early one Sunday morning I attended a residence in Norris Arm to take a statement from the gentleman of the house.
(Ed Ring is 6 foot 2 and 230 lbs.) With my winter parka, fur hat and thick-soled winter service boots, my appearance anywhere while on duty was usually met with wide-eyed stares and frightened children (regardless of how much I smiled to try to counteract my ape-like stature).
After knocking on the door, a small boy answered. He stood there, all three feet of him, looking up, way up, at me. He turned and ran out of the kitchen and around the corner. I heard his very concerned little voice say in the next room, "Dad, Dad! There's a cop at the door!" His father came back to the kitchen with the little fellow following close behind. The gentleman took one look at me, smiled, and turned to the little fellow. "That's not a cop, my son. When they gets that big, they makes 'em Mounties!”
