`Whiskey bummers' disrupt brilliant cultural entertainment
On Sept. 18, 1889, The Vancouver World reported on “what promised to be one of the most brilliant entertainments ever held in (Vancouver's) rural precincts.”
The venue was the “Opera House on the South Arm,” in today's Steveston. The entertainment started with a speech by Rev. S.J. Thompson and a “school dialogue” called “Spare The Rod and Spoil The Child.”
Mrs. W.H. Steves “personated Vashti, the wife of King Ahasuerus” in a recital, and also did a “fine vocal duet” with a Mr. Wescot.
But the “motley crowd” in the audience didn't want anything to do with the cultural stuff.
“It was quite evident that several of the whiskey bummers had come with the intention of breaking up the entertainment, and they partially succeeded,” said the World.
“It was indeed a disgusting sight to see men with whiskers on their faces and gray hairs on their heads stamping and shouting, and setting up young boys to do the same, in order to bring dishonour upon the cause which has for its object their welfare and the amelioration of the human race. Shame upon such apologies for men!”
Mrs. W.H. Steves was Clara May Steves, the wife of Steveston's founder William Herbert Steves. A Miss Steves also performed, who was probably Ida Bertha Steves, William Herbert's sister and future wife of another Richmond pioneer, Walter Herbert Steeves.
Yes a Steves married a Steeves, and there were two W.H. Steves, one who spelled their name with one e, one with two. And they're all relatives of longtime Richmond councillor Harold Steves.
The Pacific Northwest was a rough and tumble place in 1889.
The following day the World carried a story headlined “Murder Most Foul.”
The murder was in Seattle, but was related by Capt. John O'brien of the Canadian Pacific steamship the Premier, which sailed between Vancouver and Puget Sound.
“Shortly before the SS Premier left Seattle, Capt. O'brien heard shouts of murder coming from a boat which was pulling towards his steamer whilst at her dock,” it related.
“He next observed a man jump overboard. The boat landed, and the parties in it were observed carrying a man to shore.”
This is where it gets interesting. “The Captain followed them to a beer saloon nearby, where the wounded man was laid on a couple of beer barrels whilst his comrades were having a drink.
“The Captain approached the man, turned him over and found that he was dead. There were some 40 men in the saloon drinking beer and other beverages.”
The police eventually showed up and found the dead man had been stabbed in the heart “and the pit of the left breast.” A search was made for the murderer in the cabin of the boat, where he had changed his clothes and left a knife “covered in the poor man's gore.”
The Sept. 18, 1889 Seattle Post-intelligencer filled in the details: “Benedict Sare, an Austrian fisherman, was stabbed to death at 8:45 o'clock last night by his partner, Nicholas Suttino, a labourer,” said the P-I. “The men quarrelled in a sloop anchored off the Myers cannery wharf. A dispute arose over the division of the proceeds in which all were interested, when Suttino, growing suddenly enraged, drew a common pocket knife from his pocket and plunged it into Sare's heart.”
Sare, Suttino and Eugene Biban had come to Seattle from Astoria,
Ore., and purchased the sloop. Suttino worked as a labourer while his partners fished, with the idea they 'd split the money they earned.
When Sare told Suttino he didn't think he was entitled to a full share, “strong language was used …(and) Suttino grew very abusive and finally flew into a terrible passion.”
Suttino stabbed Sare and jumped into the water.
Sare walked toward Morse's bar, “staggering just a trifle as he crossed the threshold.
“Once inside, he stopped, stood erect, and threw open his shirt front, revealing to the eyes of a dozen occupants in the room a small but ugly-looking cut under the left nipple.
“`Look here boys, see how I'm cut,' he cried. Several men started towards him, but before they could reach him he fell to the floor dead.”
Suttino vanished into the night, never to be caught.