Peter Cashin: My Fight for Newfoundland

By Peter J. Cashin

Peter Cashin was at the centre—the stormy centre—of Newfoundland’s political and public life for more than thirty years. Known to many as “the fighting Major,” in a tribute to his wartime service with the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, he played a decisive role at every major stage in the political drama that transformed Newfoundland from a British Dominion to a Canadian Province. Peter Cashin wrote a memoir soon after he retired from public life in 1953. Part of it was published shortly before he died in 1977, but it is only now that his account of the years between 1919 and the end of his life has been published. Cashin wrote every word of the memoir, and it is presented in this book just as he wrote it. This is Peter Cashin’s story in his own words, and in his own voice. A man with strong views, he minced no words. The memoir rings with praise for those whom he admired and condemnation for those whom he did not. Frank, fearless, and forceful, he fought against anybody and everybody who threatened the future of his country and his people. Governors, prime ministers, politicians, judges, priests, and merchants—it mattered not to him who they were, but what they stood for. Peter Cashin cared passionately about Newfoundland and her people. He is one of the giants of our past, a man who dominated the public forum during some of the most crucial years in our history. He is the last of the great men of that era to tell his story. Peter Cashin: My Fight for Newfoundland is an account of the most important years of his life by a man who put Newfoundland and her people at the centre of that life. Anybody who is interested in who we are and how we got to be what we are will be enthralled by it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flanker Press
• Release date: Jun 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781926881720

Peter J. Cashin

Peter J. Cashin, the eldest child of Michael and Gertrude (Mullowney) Cashin, was born on March 6, 1890, in Cape Broyle, Newfoundland. First elected to the House of Assembly in 1923 as a Conservative in Ferryland District, by 1928 Cashin had become minister of finance in the Liberal Administration led by Sir Richard Squires. He soon became aware that Squires was irresponsible with public money and resigned from Cabinet and the Liberal party early in 1932 in protest. Cashin did not stand in 1932, the first time since 1893 that no Cashin contested Ferryland. He played no part in Newfoundland’s surrender of self-government in December 1933, but he soon became a prominent and persistent critic of the Commission of Government that replaced it. He opposed Joey Smallwood’s campaign for Confederation with Canada and became the chairman of the Responsible Government League, leading it into the 1948 referendums. After Confederation, Cashin served in the legislature as an independent and as a member of the Progressive Conservative party, before retiring from public life in 1953. Cashin was married to Blanche Fitzpatrick of Placentia, with whom he had two children, Mary and Michael. He died in St. John’s on May 21, 1977.

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in 1984.

THE MEMOIR

The Years Immediately after the War

IN PART I OF THESE memoirs I covered my varied activities from March 1890 until my demobilization from the Newfoundland Regiment in April 1919, a period of nearly thirty years. I outlined my arrival back in Newfoundland, and my return to civilian life. It will have been noticed that prior to the outbreak of war in August 1914, I had been employed with the Canadian Pacific Railway Company at Fort William, Ontario; that I had returned to Newfoundland early in April 1915, joined the Newfoundland Regiment as a private soldier; that those of us who had been employed by this great railroad corporation had been granted leave of absence for the purpose of enlisting in the armed forces, and had been assured of re-employment to our various positions if we were fortunate enough to survive the conflict. However, on my return to civilian life, I decided to settle down in Newfoundland again and embark in some sort of commercial enterprise. I was in first-class physical condition and the wounds I had suffered in early 1916 had left no ill effects. I was now ready for action.

I had ascertained from Coaker¹ on the voyage across the Atlantic that business had prospered greatly during the period of hostilities, that transportation by sea was a most profitable venture, and that the price obtained for all Newfoundland products had been the highest in history. As an example, dry, sun-cured codfish was selling at a price approaching $20 per quintal. Many of our commercial firms had made huge profits on the sale of fish, and those who had invested sanely in operating sailing vessels had harvested huge profits. But now that war was over and our European markets were unable to find the necessary funds to pay for our products on anything like the scale which prevailed during the period from 1915 to 1919, a slump was inevitable.² Those who had over-invested in the operation of shipping or who were holding out for higher prices in the fish market were about to receive a terrific financial shock. Many of these firms, which had plunged heavily in the purchase of sailing vessels around the last part of 1918, were heavily indebted to banks. Freights of around $10 per quintal, which had been prevalent prior to the end of 1918, had vanished, and the banks were demanding their loans to be repaid, so the huge profits earned between 1915 and the end of 1918 in many cases developed into individual and corporation bankruptcy. In short, from a commercial standpoint, the people of Newfoundland were forced to buckle in their belts and try and get back to normal living.

The Morris Government, [re-] elected in 1913, had been put in the position where a National or Coalition Government came into being in 1917. Sir Edward Morris,³ who had been Prime Minister of Newfoundland since 1909, left for England, on official business as far as his Cabinet was concerned, and did not return to Newfoundland. He had accepted a peerage from the British Government, being the first and only Newfoundlander to be so honoured. However, his old colleagues in the Morris party, men like my father [Sir Michael Cashin], Sir John Crosbie, John R. Bennett, William Woodford, and others, felt that they had been betrayed by Morris. These were the men who had made him Prime Minister or helped in a great measure to make him the man he was, and I know that they all felt that he had let them down badly, particularly by not giving them any idea before he left for England what he had in mind. In fact, he had led them to believe that he would be back again. His position in the House of Lords was more or less infantile. He did not have the necessary money to carry on the prestige of the office, and poor old Morris had to have recourse to lending his name to the incorporation of several companies, the financial structures of which were very questionable, and this left him wide open to considerable suspicion and criticism. Morris, as I have related, was undoubtedly the most astute politician Newfoundland has ever produced, and it is most regrettable that he did not see fit to remain in the country which gave him so much prestige and confidence.

Following the departure of Sir Edward Morris some time in 1917, a Coalition or National Government was formed. It was composed of men of the Coaker Fishermen’s Union, which had come into public prominence in the election of 1913. Sir William Lloyd, who had been prominently identified with the Coaker movement and had been elected under the Coaker banner, was made Prime Minister. Father, Crosbie, and Bennett were members of the new Cabinet from the old Morris party. Coaker, Halfyard, and John Stone came from the Fishermen’s Union. This Government carried on until the spring of 1919—shortly after I had returned to Newfoundland.

It had been the idea of the National or Coalition Government to call a General Election in the spring of 1919.⁴ This political move by the Coalition Government was halted, principally because a public meeting of St. John’s citizens had been held protesting the calling of a General Election at this particular time, on the grounds that, in calling such a snap election, the Government would be taking advantage of its position to hinder any substantial opposition party being able to organize its forces. Following the abandonment of the idea of a General Election in the spring, the legislature was opened for business. The first day, or shortly after the opening ceremonies, my father, Sir Michael Cashin, the Finance Minister, moved a vote of want of confidence in the Government as it then stood. The motion was seconded by Sir William Lloyd, the Prime Minister. My father then was called upon by the Governor to form a new Government,⁵ which was comprised of Sir Michael Cashin, Prime Minister and Minister of Finance; Alfred B. Morine, Attorney General; Sir John C. Crosbie, Minister of Shipping; Sir John Bennett, Colonial Secretary; John Stone, Minister of Fisheries; William J. Walsh, Minister of Agriculture and Mines; Albert E. Hickman, Minister of Militia; and William J. Woodford, Minister of Public Works. Sir William Lloyd was appointed to the vacancy in the Supreme Court.⁶

One may wonder how A. B. Morine came to become a member of this re-organized Government and Party. In the first part of these memoirs, I stated that when Sir Edward Morris had broken from the Bond Government in 1907 and organized the People’s Party Morine had been Leader of the Opposition. I related how Morris did not desire to have Morine included in his new Party—that the Reids, under the Presidency of Sir William Reid,⁷ had arranged for Morine to leave Newfoundland for a period of around ten years at a salary of $10,000 annually. However, Morine did return sometime during the middle of the First World War. A vacancy had been created in the Legislature by the resignation of Sir Robert Bond, who was Leader of the Opposition, and then Morine was elected in one of the Northern Districts and became a Member of the Opposition.⁸ Bond is supposed to have resigned because he could not tolerate the actions and tactics of the Coaker Party. In his own words, he was disgusted with their every policy and action. So, when the breakup of the National or Coalition Government came about, my father asked Morine to take the office of Attorney General. I believe my father felt at that time that Morine could defeat Coaker personally in the District of Bonavista Bay. More about this later.

Immediately after the swearing-in of the new Government, the Legislature met again to discuss the budget and estimates for the fiscal year, which would close on 30 June 1919, and to present proposed estimates of revenue and expenditure for the fiscal year 1919-20. Well do I remember that opening day, when Morine took his place in the House as Attorney General, seated next to my father, the Prime Minister. Coaker and his party of some ten or eleven members took their seats on the Opposition side with Coaker as Leader of the Opposition. Coaker began his address to the House shortly after the reading of the minutes, when strangers were admitted. Coaker spoke until around 6 p.m. His entire speech was devoted to the denunciation of Morine with all the vigour and bitterness which Coaker could command. Not once did Morine interrupt, although there were many occasions when Morine could have risen to a point of order. Morine merely took notes and appeared unconcerned. Finally, when Coaker finished, he adjourned the debate and suggested that the House would adjourn until the following day. Morine rose in his seat and seconded the motion for adjournment, but only until 8 p.m. This Coaker objected to, but the Speaker, William J. Higgins, adjourned the House until after supper.

I have said in these wandering remarks that I consider Morine was probably the most fluent and strongest debater the Newfoundland Legislature ever experienced. I went back after supper to hear Morine. He literally tore Coaker to pieces. He drove him to desperation and had Coaker jumping off his seat calling to the Prime Minister, my father, and the Speaker, Mr. Higgins, to stop Morine. They merely laughed at him. Morine said, You sit down now and take your medicine. At one juncture, Coaker took the inkwell from his desk to throw at Morine and spilled the ink all over himself.⁹ The Coaker supporters had men in the galleries for the purpose of heckling Morine—the more Morine was heckled, the more fluent he became. He told these hecklers in no uncertain language that he, Morine, was trying to free them from the slavery which he felt Coaker was trying to inflict on them. After Morine’s speech, which took about two and a half hours, the House adjourned until the following day, when routine business was carried on. There was no further attempt by Coaker, or for that matter any member of the Opposition, to cross swords with Morine.

This Morine-Coaker battle took place in early May 1919. Shortly after this a wooden steamer carrying around 1 million feet of B. C. fir timber went ashore near King’s Cove in Bonavista Bay. Father, who had always been interested in the salvaging of wrecked ships and their cargoes, engaged the tug Ingraham and, together with Thomas Kennedy of the Furness Withy Company, sent me to King’s Cove to salvage the ship and cargo. We took along some twenty St. John’s longshoremen to do the work. The name of the ship was SS Ferm¹⁰ in command of a Norwegian captain. Before I left for King’s Cove, Father had given me instructions as to the way I was to enter into an agreement with the captain of the ship to salve the vessel and cargo on a no cure no pay basis.

On arrival at King’s Cove, having arranged the necessary accommodations for our party, we steamed to the place outside the harbour where the ship lay stranded. She was completely ashore with her bows stove in and the holds were filled with water. I immediately contacted the captain and made the necessary agreement with him to salve the ship and cargo. We began by throwing the heavy timber off the deck to lighten the ship and putting pumps aboard from the tug to pump her out. After a few days at work, we attempted to pull her off the rocks. Her two anchors were down and we had to let out all the chain. On our first attempt we failed to move the vessel. However, I felt that with the help of another tug we could float the ship and bring her in to King’s Cove. We then hired, or rather I hired, the whaler Cachelot from Mr. D. A. Ryan¹¹ at Trinity to come around and give us a couple of pulls. I agreed to pay the Cachelot $1,000 for the work. After considerable effort we succeeded in floating the ship and towing her in to King’s Cove, where we tied her up to the public wharf. I telegraphed Father that we had her off and suggested he send another boat to help the Ingraham to tow her to St. John’s. Two days later Father and Tasker Cook arrived in the steamer Wren, with old Captain Bill Carroll as pilot. We towed the Ferm to St. John’s and tied her up on the South Side at the wharf now owned by the Newfoundland Coal Company. We had already thrown a great quantity of the deck cargo in the water and towed it in to King’s Cove. The people living in some of these little coves outside King’s Cove had stolen some of the timber, and we had great difficulty getting it later on in the season.

Prior to going to King’s Cove I had witnessed the start of the Hawker-Grieve¹² attempt to fly the Atlantic. This flight failed, but, fortunately, the plane came down near a Danish tramp ship, which rescued the two fliers after being a week missing. In the meantime, while I was working at King’s Cove salvaging the Ferm, Alcock and Brown¹³ took off from Lester’s Field and landed in Ireland some sixteen hours later. This Alcock-Brown flight was the first direct cross-Atlantic flight, and these two airmen were awarded the £5,000 award given by The Daily Mail. In addition, both the fliers were knighted by the King for their daring accomplishment.

When I returned from King’s Cove, Mother had returned from the Southern States with my brother Larry, who had been a patient in a sanatorium for TB. He had been sent home by the doctors as incurable, with a prediction that he would not live another year. He died in the 1960s some four years after suffering a paralytic stroke.

My father, who was now kept extremely busy with his governmental duties and preparing to lead his party in a General Election in the autumn of 1919, had very little time to devote to other commercial activities. He had sold our Cape Broyle property that previous winter to a French firm, which had planned to carry on an extensive fishing business from that place. However, he had left some 1,000 quintals of dried codfish in store there, which he now sold to A. E. Hickman and Company, so he sent me up to our old homestead to see that the fish was loaded in a vessel and shipped to St. John’s. I believe the price he obtained for that shipment was somewhere in the vicinity of $18 per quintal. This concluded his business association with Cape Broyle, for the time being at any rate.

It was now getting up to the middle of June 1919. Prior to my leaving France to return to Newfoundland, I had figured I might be able to carry on the business at Cape Broyle, as my brother Larry was in declining health, and, when I ascertained that the Cape Broyle business was disposed of, I became somewhat concerned as to my future. My sister, Mary, who had been in training as a nurse at the General Hospital in St. John’s, became ill, and prior to Larry and Mother returning from the Southern States, Father had been informed of her illness, so he took the bull by the horns and went to the hospital himself and took her to our house on King’s Bridge Road. I wondered what I would do. As already stated, I knew that business was declining in Newfoundland. I also recognized that matters at home were anything but congenial and felt that I had to make some move to rehabilitate myself back in civilian life. I, therefore, without telling either my father or mother, communicated with the Superintendent of the Canadian Pacific Railway¹⁴ at Fort William, with whom I had worked for upwards of four years, and asked him to send me the necessary railway transportation to return to my old job. Promptly Mr. Hawkins replied, sending me the necessary railway transportation. I felt somewhat disappointed at having to return to Fort William. I knew that my father had made substantial money during the War, and I expected that he would give me a start at some kind of business at home. I felt dismayed and more nervous than I ever felt during any scrap we had in France. The situation at home was intolerable, to me at any rate, and I felt I had to get out of that environment. So, without speaking to anyone at home except my sister, Mary, I gathered together what civilian clothes I had recently purchased and arranged to leave St. John’s by railway around the end of July 1919. I never told my father or mother until the morning I was leaving. I know they both felt somewhat disappointed in my actions, but I felt that there was nothing else left for me to do. There was no indication of anything to do at home—so off I went, arriving in Fort William four or five days later. I knew I was secure for a few months at any rate, as I was receiving $150 per month from the Newfoundland Government for a period of six months as a sort of gratuity.

I began work immediately after my arrival at Fort William. Mr. Hawkins, my old boss, gave me an outside job as foreman over the switching of grain trains, which were now coming in from the west, and the grain was being stored in the huge elevators for shipment down the Lakes by ships as well as railway. Unfortunately, I became afflicted with sciatica after a month or so and could barely walk. I evidently had contracted some kind of chill in France, which was just showing itself nearly a year later. I became so affected that I was forced to lay off from work for a month, and had a repetition of the pains when I returned to work around the middle of November. I worked somehow for another month, and was forced to lay off again as the pain had become worse instead of better. I took some electric treatment, such treatment was just in its infancy, and it did me very little good. I was told by the doctor attending me at that time that I would have to lay off a couple of months. That meant money to pay expenses of living as well as treatment. Under such circumstances and after considering such a situation from a personal standpoint, I decided to return to Newfoundland. So, around the middle of January 1920, I left for home, arriving there around the end of the month. I had a railway pass right back to St. John’s, for which I thanked Mr. Hawkins, the Superintendent of the CPR at Fort William, and an assurance from him that if I recovered from this unfortunate affliction, my job with the CPR would be open to me. This Mr. Hawkins was the best friend I ever had in any part of Canada. It took us almost two weeks to get to St. John’s. The ice in the Gulf had us stuck for several days between North Sydney and St. John’s—eleven days of this journey were spent on the old Kyle¹⁵ stuck in ice off Low Point just outside Sydney Harbour.

I had met Sir Patrick McGrath at North Sydney, and he told me that both Father and Mother had left St. John’s by one of the Red Cross boats for New York. So, when I arrived home, I found Larry the only member of the family living on King’s Bridge Road. Mary had returned to the General Hospital to continue her nursing training. I gathered from talking with Larry and Mary that both Father and Mother were annoyed with me. They felt that there was nothing wrong with me, physically. Eventually, in early February, Father and Mother returned by steamer from New York. Larry and I met the boat on arrival. Shortly after arriving home, Father called me into the living room and abused me for having gone away at all. To be honest, I had never heard my father swear before. It was no use me trying to tell him that I was suffering with a bad attack of sciatica, that even though I was gradually recovering from this painful affliction, and had been told by several doctors that I would eventually recover, and that the pain would leave me the same way, suddenly, as it had first attacked me. In other words, I had to suffer it out. God forgive me, there were times during the following months I wished that Father had the damned sciatica! I did not know at that time that he was suffering from diabetes.

By this time I had ascertained that Father had purchased the Ferm, the old wooden ship that we had taken off the rocks near King’s Cove six months previously. Father told me that all the money made from the salvage of the vessel and cargo of timber was sunk in the purchase of the old tub. He had arranged for the docking of the ship, and some twenty or more ship’s carpenters under the supervision of Mr. H. J. Taylor began the work of repairing and replacing of planking practically from the waterline down. An entire new bottom had to be constructed with new material. Jim Cook, the son of Sir Tasker Cook, was Chief Engineer, and he had to inspect and repair the entire engine and boilers, etc. It was a long and tedious job and took nearly two months to complete. Father had me looking after the job and wanted to know where practically every nail or spike was driven. He wanted to know the number of men working on the job as well as the time each man worked. Mr. Taylor did not like this checking business, as he felt it was an indication of a lack of confidence in his honesty. It was only natural for Mr. Taylor to feel that way. Anyhow, the job was finished in due course.

We tied the ship up at the pier adjoining the dock and completed some odd jobs around the deck and engine room. The captain of the ship was Captain Wells, who had been recommended to Father by Sir Tasker Cook. Finally the ship was ready to sail. I remember the morning well. It was the latter part of June 1920. Myself, Father, and Sir Tasker were talking about the ship just before I went aboard. As she stood before sailing, she had cost altogether around $120,000. Sir Tasker Cook and Harvey’s¹⁶ had invested $15,000 each in the venture and Mr. Taylor, who had supervised the repairing of the ship, held $7,500. The balance of around $80,000 was held by myself and Father. That particular morning, as I was boarding the vessel, Tasker Cook remarked to myself and Father that we had a gold mine. Certainly the late Sir Tasker was no different than anyone else; he also had to live and learn. We had the old tub insured at Lloyd’s for around $50,000 and with certain French underwriters for a similar amount. We had to pay15 per cent at Lloyd’s and only 5 per cent at Paris. We also had to live and learn.

We hauled off from the dock wharf and steamed slowly down St. John’s harbour. It took us an hour to get to Cape Spear. We straightened out on our course for Cape Race as we rounded Cape Spear. She was now opened out to full speed. It was an ideal day—the water was smooth and there was just a breath of westerly wind. Jim Cook, the Chief Engineer, did everything he could to speed her up—but try as he might we could just make a speed of 6 knots an hour. We were just beginning to learn that this old tub, as I called her, was a hopeless proposition—in fact, from a business angle, she was a real flop. On arrival at Sydney, we had to anchor off the coal pier—we could not get in to the loading dock as there were several ships ahead of us. We had to just wait. I telegraphed Father and he came to Sydney. We had an interview with Mr. Gillis, one of the head officers of the company, and even though Gillis was a great friend of my father and would do anything he could for us, again we were stuck. An interview with the general manager brought the same result. So we had to wait for another week, laying idle in the harbour. Father returned to St. John’s. I lived aboard the ship and went ashore every day to see if there would be a break in the situation. We just had to wait and pray. Then suddenly one morning the order came from the company that we could dock at the loading pier. Whilst that was a great relief, we were to learn some more about this old tub. The ship was equipped with turbine winches as well as a turbine windlass for raising the anchors. It took us two or three hours to get the two anchors lifted—a job which should ordinarily take not more than ten minutes. Finally we had her two anchors lifted and docked. We took on some 1,800 tons of coal for Harvey’s and about 150 tons in her bunkers. The ship was burning around 15 tons daily and we never made any more than 6 knots an hour, that is, provided there was very little wind and the water was smooth. It took us more than three and a half days to get to St. John’s. We finally docked at Harvey’s pier and started discharging our cargo, which occupied another four days. We had more trouble with the winches. We had already cleared customs and as soon as the last tub of coal was hoisted out of the ship we hauled off, and as there was a gale of wind down from the southwest, we had to anchor in the stream. The next day the weather cleared and the wind had moderated. We did everything to get the anchors up, without success. We had men aboard from the dock, and they failed to do anything with her. Eventually, after spending a full day at this damned old windlass, Father was infuriated and told me to pay off the crew and put a watchman on the vessel to look after the ship in a general way. Jim Cook, the Chief Engineer, blew down the boilers and adjusted everything in the engine room for a permanent lay up. Jerry Power from Tors Cove was the watchman and we paid him $25 per week and he lived on board. Father said later that Jerry was the only one that made any money out of the Ferm. So ended this venture, which resulted in a salted mine, not the gold mine which Sir Tasker Cook had depicted a few months previously. And so the curtain dropped on this most dramatic venture. This left me to search out another gold mine and some other job. Eventually that autumn another individual’s misfortune became my meal ticket. And now for another episode in what I would call a necessary and important branch of the shipping business at that time.

Sometime in 1917 Father, Sir John Crosbie, and Sir Tasker Cook had purchased the Newfoundland Tug Company¹⁷ for a price of around $40,000. Cashin and Crosbie held stock or shares of some $17,000 each, and Cook held some $6,000. This tug company was comprised of three very small tug boats: the Ingraham,¹⁸ the John Green,¹⁹ and a little boat called the Daisy.²⁰ For a couple of years, say up to 1919, the company made fabulous money. Suddenly, out of the blue, it was discovered that the tug company was in financial difficulties. It was pure accident that Sir John Crosbie, who I must say was thorough in all his financial dealings, was made aware of the situation. The management of the tug company was under the supervision of Sir Tasker Cook, and he had a man acting as manager, not alone of the tugs, but also of another company which owned the Susu,²¹ a small coastal boat under contract with the government to carry mails and freight on the Fogo route. This company, also owned by Father, Sir John Crosbie, and Sir Tasker Cook, was also found to be in financial difficulties. The office of the two companies was located in Sir Tasker Cook’s store on Water Street. Sir Tasker, who trusted the manager, was interested only in dividends and the signing of cheques covering the expenses of operation. He didn’t worry about how the operations of the two companies were progressing. He never had any practical interest as to what the earnings were like. When Sir John discovered the manner in which the companies were being managed and operated, he immediately called a meeting of Father, Cook, himself, and the manager. The manager, whose name I do not care to mention, had been interested in other vessels and had been using monies earned by the tug companies, as well as the Susu Company, to pay the losses now being incurred by several sailing vessels under his management. At this meeting called by Sir John Crosbie, both Father and Crosbie put the manager through the third degree. They wanted to know how he had spent the money which he had diverted from both the tug company and the Susu Company. He told them he had spent the money in keeping two or three other shipping companies he was managing afloat and, amongst other things, he had purchased an expensive beaver coat for his girl. That ended the meeting for that time. The manager was fired and was lucky to escape prison. Crosbie instructed the manager to be at his (Crosbie’s) office the following morning. He was there, and so was I, when Sir John came in and told Mr. Woolgar,²² his bookkeeper, to send over to the post office and collect $4,000, this being the monthly subsidy for the Susu. It was the end of the month and the crew had to be paid. The former manager told Sir John that he had collected that money a couple of weeks before. That was the finishing touch. Poor old Sir John became almost violent, saying that he had been a member of the government for ten or fifteen years, and he had never been able to get money out of the government before it was actually due. There was no money in the bank for the Susu Company and butcher bills, grocery bills, and loads of other accounts were unpaid. When we finally had all the Susu accounts together, as well as the monthly wages for the crew, it amounted to around $10,000 or $15,000. Sir John then told me to get Father and Cook on the telephone and find out if they could attend a meeting around noon. I did just that and the meeting took place. They then floated a demand note which the Bank of Nova Scotia approved, with their three names as endorsers. I think the amount of the note was around $10,000. Sir John told the meeting that he was flabbergasted when the manager told him that he had collected the $4,000 for the monthly subsidy of the Susu a couple of weeks before it was due. Crosbie then was so mad that he wanted to have Sir Tasker sued for all the money that the manager had misappropriated. Father refused to be a party to this, but I must admit that there was a lot of sense in Crosbie’s intentions. If such an action had taken place, it would have created a very serious situation for Sir Tasker Cook. From a business point of view I must say that Sir John was right.

Then the question of a new manager for both the Susu and the tug companies arose. I spoke to Father about getting the job. He told me to see Sir John. The same day I went and saw Sir John at his Water Street office. He told me that they would be having a meeting the following afternoon and for me to be there also. When the meeting started, I was there, and Sir John brought me into his office with both Father and Sir Tasker Cook. After a few matters were discussed and finalized, Sir John proposed and Sir Tasker seconded that I would be appointed manager of the tug company, as well as looking after the operations of the Susu, at a salary of $200 per month. This was agreed. My office was next door to Sir John’s. During the year 1921-22 the tug company made a profit of 15 per cent and the Susu Company earned enough money to be able to pay all its unpaid debts, which had been created under the former management. The three shareholders were all happy and quite satisfied with my management of the affairs of the two companies. Mr. Woolgar kept the books of both companies up to date, and we always knew how revenues and expenditures stood. The first few days after I had taken over the job as manager of the tug company, I spent some time going over the records and suddenly discovered that the former manager had misapplied an amount of another $1,500. It appeared that, about a year previously, a large South African sailing vessel had developed some trouble off Cape Race and asked for assistance. Our former manager sent the Ingraham, and the South African ship was towed to St. John’s for the necessary repairs, etc. For this job, which occupied less than two days, the manager collected $1,500. This money was never credited to the tug company, but our former manager had credited it to one of the other shipping companies of which he was manager. When I told Sir John about this incident, he literally hit the ceiling. He said to me, I (Crosbie) told your father what we should do—we should clean them out. He meant the manager and Cook. For God’s sake, let us try and forget the entire affair and try and get our money back. Then he said to me, Listen to this one. Yes, I said, what is it? Do you know what I heard this morning on my way to the office—I heard from a reliable source that this wonderful manager of ours is canvassing the street trying to raise money to purchase another tug on the mainland to compete with us. Tell the old man (Father) that one, and see what he says. During the course of this conversation, Crosbie was walking around the office, smoking his usual cigar, expectorating all over the place, repeating what he would like to do with the manager, etc. Honestly, I had to laugh at this great man, who had worked his way up from the bottom. Finally he said to me, How are you getting along with that old tub you have tied up in the stream? He meant my old friend, the Ferm. When I told him about the situation, he had a great laugh for himself. He says to me then, What are you going to do with her? I told him then the idea I had, about which I intended to talk to Father after he had recovered from the shock of the tugs and Susu. I will be meeting your father as usual tonight, anyhow, on the political situation. The Squires Government was in office, and Sir John had some ideas of busting the government he wanted to talk about. He told me that he had a couple of members of the Squires party on the hook. Later I will be relating other incidents of political interest around