COP TAKES A CHOMP OUT OF ‘ANTAGONIST’
Case of ‘cannibalism’ offers taste of colourful reporting
Lacrosse matches between Vancouver and New Westminster could be fairly rough in 1892. So it was probably no shock when a New Westminster policeman named Box claimed that he’d been jumped by some Vancouver lacrosse players at a dance.
But the Vancouver World took exception to his tale, with a story headlined Cannibalism Condoned.
“A great deal of wonder has been expressed at the fact that the Westminster Police Commissioners have made no investigation into the recent cannibalistic performance of Policeman Box, of the Westminster force, at a dance in this city,” said the May 5, 1892 story.
“It has been learned that Box led the Westminster people to believe that he had been attacked by a gang of Vancouver lacrosse men, who made it necessary for him to resort to any means, however brutal, in order to get out with his life.
“Now the fact of the matter is there was not a lacrosse man in the room . ... Box was fighting with one man only, and that he was more than his antagonist’s equal physically is evidenced by the fact that the poor fellow could not keep those terrible jams away from his face.”
Using a term like cannibalism instead of simply saying Box bit somebody was the way journalists wrote in the 1890s.
The slang of the time can be quite entertaining. On June 19, 1893, the World carried a small item about a woman named Reno Cottace, “a soiled dove from Westminster (who) arrived in this city after the lacrosse match boiling drunk.
“She was locked up till she got sober and was then released on $10 bail, which she forfeited by not appearing (in court) this morning.”
“Soiled dove” was 1890s slang for a prostitute.
Another great term the World used is “the green eyed monster,” which is a colourful way of describing jealousy.
On April 26, 1889, the paper carried a story about “a beautiful creature in petticoats” who had “caused an aching in the hearts of two every-day citizens of Vancouver, a carpenter and a plasterer.”
The carpenter “thought that he had ‘teetotally corralled’ the affections of the lovely damsel,” but came across her out at night with the plasterer.
“The green-eyed monster rose in his throat,” said the World.
“He made a break for the young man who had stolen the affections of the girl he loved — ah! — so well. The carpenter knocked straight from the shoulder, first with his right hand and then with his left, (and) drew his rival under an electric lamp-post to make sure of his aim.”
A passerby interjected, claiming to be a “peeler,” which was slang for a policeman. The carpenter ran off, and the plasterer “buttoned up what clothes had not been torn off his back, and walked away, the damsel seeing him safely started.”
Speaking of pugilism, boxing great Jim Corbett, was in Vancouver on May 7, 1892 for a performance at the Imperial Opera House.
“Lecture on Athletics, Illustrated by a Grand!! Athletic!! Entertainment,” said a World ad. “Boxing Bout, Tug of War, Battle Royal, Single Sticks.”
Today we know him as Gentleman Jim Corbett, but at the time the World dubbed him Handsome Jim Corbett.
“If excellent condition and steel muscles count for anything he could whip John L. Sullivan in two rounds,” said the World.
“He weighs 200 lbs. with his clothes on and is at the present time almost ready for a dead-inearnest fight.”
The fight they ’re referring to was with Sullivan in New Orleans that September 7. Corbett knocked Sullivan out in the 21st round to take the heavyweight championship.
The Imperial Opera House was an early theatre at Pender and Beatty that had a grand name but was probably pretty rudimentary — a photo in the Vancouver Archives shows a smallish wooden building that looks like a regular hall.
It opened on April 25, 1889, when 500 to 600 people showed up to see the Mendelssohn Quintette Club. The “elite” of Vancouver were in attendance, but so was a crew of “hoodlums” in the cheap seats who upset the World writer by “whistling and otherwise improper behaviour.”
“A policeman should be stationed in the gallery,” said the World, “and the unruly ejected bodily.”