Operation Wormwood
“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! With skilled, detective-like precision, Escott kept me at the edge of my seat throughout this well-told story of hurt and faith. Filled with a ton of well-researched facts and figures regarding Newfoundland and Labrador’s history, criminal investigative processes, and relevant political complications, this novel fills the reader’s need for action, suspense, and emotion. This book will make every Newfoundlander and Labradorian reflect on their complicated history and fully intrigue those who come from away. Operation Wormwood is wicked . . . simply wicked . . . in every definition of the word.” — E. B. Merrill, S/Sgt. (Rtd.), Royal Canadian Mounted Police
“At the heart of this gut-wrenching, savagely realistic novel is a deep theological struggle: why does evil against the most vulnerable go unpunished by a loving, all-powerful God? Escott combines first-hand police experience, superb storytelling, and deep faith in this Dan Brown–style epic.”
— Rev. Robert Cooke
“Operation Wormwood . . . gives us a sense of what first responders deal with in their daily lives. A well-written book. Great job, Mrs. Escott.” — Edwards Book Club
“Operation Wormwood is one heck of a thriller.”
— The Telegram
Operation Vanished
“Operation Vanished is a powerful page-turner that will resonate with any reader who enjoys a good murder mystery. Helen C. Escott doesn’t just seek justice and remembrance for female victims of crime but makes a brilliant attempt to emancipate them from the bonds of yesteryear.” — Fireside Collections
“Operation Vanished is a must-read Newfoundland mystery-thriller!” — The Miramichi Reader
70 Years of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Newfoundland and Labrador
Helen C. Escott
Foreword by Assistant Commissioner Ches W. Parsons, Commanding Officer of Newfoundland and Labrador
Flanker Press Limited
St. John’s
Title: In search of adventure : 70 years of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Newfoundland and
Labrador / Helen C. Escott.
Names: Escott, Helen C., author.
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200258648 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200258710 | ISBN 9781771178211
(softcover) | ISBN 9781771178228 (EPUB) | ISBN 9781771178235 (Kindle) | ISBN 9781771178242
(PDF)
Subjects: LCSH: Royal Canadian Mounted Police—History—20th century. | LCSH: Royal Canadian
Mounted Police—History—21st century. | LCSH: Police—Newfoundland and Labrador—History—
20th century. | LCSH: Police—Newfoundland and Labrador—History—21st century.
Classification: LCC HV8159.N5 E83 2020 | DDC 363.209718—dc23
————————————————————————————————————————————————————------——
© 2020 by Helen C. Escott
All Rights Reserved. No part of the work covered by the copyright hereon may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical—without the written permission of the publisher. Any request for photocopying, recording, taping, or information storage and retrieval systems of any part of this book shall be directed to Access Copyright, The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency, 1 Yonge Street, Suite 800, Toronto, ON M5E 1E5. This applies to classroom use as well.
Printed in Canada
Cover Design by Graham Blair
Flanker Press Ltd.
PO Box 2522, Station C
St. John’s, NL
Canada
Telephone: (709) 739-4477 Fax: (709) 739-4420 Toll-free: 1-866-739-4420
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We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (CBF) and the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador, Department of Tourism, Culture, Industry and Innovation for our publishing activities. We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $157 million to bring the arts to Canadians throughout the country. Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien. L’an dernier, le Conseil a investi 157 millions de dollars pour mettre de l’art dans la vie des Canadiennes et des Canadiens de tout le pays.
To my children: Sabrina, Daniel, and Colin, my daughter-in-law, Alanna, and grandchildren, Sophie and Maximus:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost
P.S. I always took the road not taken—that is how you find adventure!
by Ches W. Parsons
This truly remarkable book is the product of Helen Escott’s passion for the RCMP and her desire to memorialize its place in the rich history of Newfoundland and Labrador. It is not altogether often that the creative and colourful personality of the novelist, and Helen is all of that, becomes the sober chronicler of days gone by. Yet, she is both.
I finished the manuscript on a fine spring afternoon. Having finished it, I laid the stack of pages atop copies of Helen’s fictional works—police procedurals, all of which are autographed and on proud display in my office. This book left a profound impact on me. I learned things I had never known before about family, friends, and more importantly, the makers of men who directly shaped my own life. I struggled to get a purchase on my own reality sufficient to allow me the emotional reserve to properly pen this note.
Deeds, figures, and raw history spill out from the pages onto the present. The stories are artful and poignant and, in all too many cases, heartbreaking. They open the mind and succour the soul. The dedication displayed and the privations endured by these devoted servants to the people of this province cast the comfort of our own modern lives into very sharp relief. Indeed, it is high time that a work like this was put on offer to the public. It tells the stories of who we are, how our past explains the present, and how this present will shape our future. They touch the heart as only the heart is touched by the cherished memories of those, here and gone, who serve with us now only in our memories.
From the depths of my own reflections I will simply say that this historically significant work marks well for all those whose time is coming that their time will come only because of those who were there.
Ches W. Parsons
Assistant Commissioner
Commanding Officer
“B” Division
Newfoundland and Labrador
A Civilian Member’s Perspective: The Day That Changed the RCMP
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 a huge learning curve.
I considered it a great 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 Canada’s national police 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 of which Canadians are proud.
The day that history truly began to make sense to me was on March 3, 2005, when four Mounties were killed in Mayerthorpe, Alberta.
The next day, I flew to Regina, Saskatchewan, to attend a civilian members 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, Chief Superintendent Curt Tugnum, opened the course. That Monday was a hard day for him. It was the first Monday after the shooting, and that afternoon, he would watch his own son graduate.
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, I would give my own son that badge?” It said a lot to me.
I 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.
Although the parents were beaming with pride, as a mother, myself, it was easy to spot the worry in their eyes, and I knew what they were thinking. Just three weeks earlier, the loved ones of one of the slain Mounties, Brock Myrol, sat in these same seats watching him proudly accept his badge.
For almost a week I 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 displayed the red stripe on their shoulder flash while learning to walk in their new boots.
I 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 decision? 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 who walked a little taller as they realized they were now part of an organization of excellence. They were not training for a job—they were accepting a lifestyle and joining a family.
We tend to forget sometimes that we are all part of that family. Years later, when my mother passed away, I was seated in the front row of the church during her funeral. My husband, Robert, a retired police officer with the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary, was seated next to me, and we were surrounded by my five sisters.
During the service, my sister whispered to me, “Look at all the police officers seated in the back of the church. They must be here for Robert.”
I looked behind to see six full pews of RCMP co-workers. I choked back my tears when I told her, “No. They are here for me.”
This book has been a labour of love. It is extremely important to capture the history of each individual member who served in Newfoundland and Labrador.
Their story is our history.
Thank you to every veteran who allowed me to come into their home, search through their pictures, and interview them about their career. It is my honour to tell their story.
To all veterans, thank you for your service.
Helen C. Escott
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 St. John’s and opened a division headquarters on Kenna’s Hill. 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 C. K. 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 Newfoundland Constabulary serving outside of St. John’s. At that time, 55 Newfoundland Rangers and 35 Newfoundland 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. Due to the growth in the establishment of the RCMP, in 1954 the force opened a subdivision headquarters in Corner Brook and St. John’s. As the force continued to expand, subdivisions were added in Gander and Labrador.
Newfoundland Rangers Become Mounties
The Newfoundland Ranger Force came into existence in 1935 and was modelled after the RCMP with similar uniforms, rules, regulations, and orders. They were also given the right to use firearms, which had not been 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 1936–January 1939), as did another RCMP member, Staff Sergeant E. W. Greenley (August 1939–June 1940).
The Ranger Force functioned for a period of 15 years and had 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 and 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. The RCMP regimental numbers started at 16163.
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 Staff Sergeant 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, 11 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.
Six ranks were awarded to the commissioned rank and 33 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 was 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 those required to join the RCMP at that time.
In the early weeks of joining the RCMP, Parsons says, the Rangers were not issued either uniforms or police cars. “If we saw a fellow speeding and we stopped him, we’d have to do it in a taxi, and without uniforms we’d have to try to explain about our identity.
“The RCMP ‘B’ Division has been benevolent in recognizing our role in establishing the RCMP in Newfoundland and Labrador and has issued certificates to this effect. The recognition is sincerely appreciated,” Staff Sergeant Parsons says.
Mr. Parsons retired from the RCMP at the rank of staff sergeant in 1972. By that time he had 27 years’ combined experience with both forces.
The remaining Newfoundland Rangers in 2020 are as follows:
Ranger #204 (RCMP 16245) Louis A Stuckless: the last man to join the Rangers. He lives in Grand Falls–Windsor.
Ranger 158 (RCMP 16208) Cyril J Goodyear lives in Deer Lake.
Ranger #197 (RCMP) Keith Hall: Wolfville, Nova Scotia.
Ranger #149 Thomas Warfield, living in California. He did not join the RCMP.
A lasting tribute to the Newfoundland Rangers is a poem that appeared in the Ranger Bulletin (#6, 1943) entitled “Courtesy is the Best Policy.” It reads in part:
To be a real policeman
Be big and strong by heck
But let the strength be always found
Just above the neck.
Newfoundland officially joined Canada at midnight, March 31, 1949. The next day, April 1, the RCMP officially arrived in the country’s newest province. But the Mounties actually arrived in the province on March 21, 1949. On that date, eight Mounties arrived by RCMP aircraft to form the first permanent troop in the newly created “B” Division.
The first eight included: #11392 Inspector Tony D. A. McKinnon; #12035 Sergeant Bernard Peck; #10544 Sergeant Theodore Bolstad; #12373 Constable Alexander Gillespie; #11761 Constable Alexander Ewing; #11686 Constable Bernard Harvey; #12627 Corporal Lawrence Gilchrist; and #12642 Constable Archibald Watson. The next day, #14510 Constable Joseph A. Pinto arrived on the ferry, driving the first RCMP police car to be used on the island.
They had their work cut out for them. Their duties included setting up the new “B” Division headquarters on Kenna’s Hill and beginning the planned absorption of the Newfoundland Rangers.
The RCMP took over the duties of the Newfoundland Rangers the Newfoundland Constabulary serving outside St. John’s. The force was given a policing contract for all of Newfoundland and Labrador but the capital city. For the first year, RCMP members performed federal duties. Then on August 1, 1950, 55 members of the Newfoundland Rangers and 35 members of the Newfoundland Constabulary became members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. It was the beginning of the RCMP’s contract policing history in this province.
Several members of the Newfoundland Customs Service and the Marine Division of the Newfoundland Customs Service were engaged in the RCMP as special constables on April 16, 1949. Most were later employed by Canada Customs. A few remained in the force as special constables in Marine Division.
Eventually the growth in the establishment of the RCMP led to the force opening subdivision headquarters in Corner Brook and St. John’s in 1954. As the force continued to expand, subdivisions were added in Gander and Labrador.
The RCMP absorbed the Newfoundland Rangers and members of the Newfoundland Constabulary, but they were not the first Newfoundlanders to join the force. That honour goes to Regimental #2178 Constable Ernest Peyton, who joined the North West Mounted Police, the forerunner of the RCMP, in 1888. He was the son of a prominent family from Twillingate and was believed to be 21 at the time. Constable Peyton served for only three months. He succumbed to a sudden illness on September 25, 1888. A plaque honouring Constable Peyton is proudly displayed at the Twillingate Museum.
The file “The Glorious Ninety” is now in the archives at The Rooms in St. John’s. It was maintained by the late Sergeant Major E. J. Delaney. When he retired, the late Staff Sergeant E. J. Power took over the file. RCMP Chief Superintendent George Powell inherited the file from Staff Sergeant Ed Power.
Constable Terry Hoey and Constable Robert Amey
Two RCMP members have been killed while on duty in Newfoundland and Labrador.
Constable Terry Hoey
Constable Terry Hoey was 21 years old when he was serving in Botwood, November 6, 1958. He, along with two other RCMP members, responded to a domestic dispute between the owner of a local restaurant and his son.
After receiving 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.
There was no answer, and they 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 Constable 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 his wish had led to his death.
Constable Robert Amey
Constable Robert Amey was 24 years old when he was killed on 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 Constables 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 Constable 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 gunpoint, but the fugitive fired three shots, one of which hit Amey in the chest.
There are 243 names on the RCMP Honour Roll. All are members who have lost their lives in peace and in the line of duty. Included in those 243 names are four members who were born in Newfoundland and Labrador.
#14740 Constable Richard William Green,
aged 36, Marine Division, Honour Roll #98
Born, Rencontre West, NL. Died, August 6, 1958, along the east shore of Skaha Lake, BC, while performing his duty (spotter) when the RCMP aircraft he was in crashed. Constable Green is buried in Chemainus, BC.
Constable Green was originally from Rencontre West, Newfoundland. He was in the Canadian Navy from 1941 to 1945. At the time of his death he was posted at the Penticton Detachment, British Columbia. He died while performing his duty as a spotter when the RCMP aircraft he was in crashed along the east shore of Skaha Lake, British Columbia. There is a plaque in the RCMP chapel at Depot in memory of the members who perished in this accident. Constable Green was married to Shirley, and they had two children.
#25165 Constable Derek Thomas Ivany,
aged 25, Honour Roll #144
Born, Grand Falls–Windsor, NL. Died, June 24, 1971, at St. Arthur, NB, while performing his duties in a police vehicle accident. Constable Ivany is buried in Grand Falls–Windsor.
Constable Ivany was born in Grand Falls, Newfoundland. He loved sports, the outdoors, and spent much of his free time hunting, fishing, and playing hockey. His service was all in New Brunswick. On the night of his death, he was responding to a call of a shooting. He caught his outside wheels on the loose gravel of the shoulder, causing the car to go out of control. Constable Ivany was married to Elaine, who had just lost a child a week before his death.
#30791 Constable Lindbergh Bruce Davis,
aged 25, Honour Roll #158
Born, Gander, NL. Died, December 8, 1979, at Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, while performing his duties in a police/train accident. Constable Davis is buried in Gander, NL.
Constable Davis was from Gander, NL, and attended Memorial University for a year prior to joining the force. His service was in Manitoba. He died in a collision between his police car and a Canadian National freight train. At the time of his death, Constable Davis was married to Marie for six months.
#36327 Constable Douglas Ambrose Mark Butler,
aged 22, Honour Roll #170
Born, Upper Island Cove, NL. Died, October 16, 1982, near Oxbow, Saskatchewan, while performing his duties in a police vehicle accident. Constable Butler is buried in Upper Island Cove, NL.
Son of Harold and Margaret Butler, Constable Butler was born in Newfoundland. He attended Memorial University in St. John’s for a year and then went to the College of Trades and Technology at Carbonear, where he took a mechanic’s course. Constable Butler was posted to Milestone, SK, and later to Carnduff, SK. When he heard that his partner was pursuing a vehicle, he pulled his vehicle across the roadway in order to stop the fleeing vehicle. As a result, Constable Butler was broadsided and was killed upon impact. At the time of Constable Butler’s death, he was engaged to be married.
We will not forget them.
From Newfoundland Ranger to the RCMP
Richard Noel is 91 years old and lives by himself in a condo in St. John’s. He was born August 16, 1927. He has to lean in to hear what I am saying, and there is a slight tremor in his hands when he pulls the small black and white photos of himself out of his wallet. They are tattered on the edges and creased with age, but he displays them proudly. In the photos he is 20 years old, tall and strong. He towers over the others in the pictures. He is a Newfoundland Ranger and considered one of the cream of the crop of Newfoundland’s young men.
Noel, born in Woody Point, Bonne Bay, finished grade 11 and wanted adventure. His first plan was to join the army, but his mother would not permit it. His older brother had joined the army and his sister joined the air force, and she did not want to send another child to the military. Noel joined a survey party under the provincial Department of Natural Resources, where he worked for three years. The call for adventure still nagged at him, and Newfoundland was looking for educated young men to fill the ranks of the Newfoundland Rangers. In 1947, he went to the recruiting office and signed up.
In 1935, the Newfoundland government created the Newfoundland Rangers to police the outport areas. They were modelled after the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and were intended to supplement the mainly urban-based Newfoundland Constabulary.
As a Newfoundland Ranger, Noel was sent to Nain, and then in 1950 the Rangers were disbanded and absorbed by the RCMP. Noel says that when he transferred over, “I didn’t see a lot of difference. Just a change in uniform. They sent me back to Nain all by myself.”
While still a Ranger, Noel recalls, he dealt with a mentally ill man in Nain in 1950. “He was a member of the community. Each night I had to put him in a straitjacket. There wasn’t a cell in Nain then and nowhere to take mentally ill patients, so I had to bring him to my house and let him sleep in my bed while I slept on the floor in front of the door.” The coast at that time was iced-in. “For three months I did that. I had to cook for him and take care of him in every which way.” Noel was the only Ranger stationed in Nain. “A couple of times he ran away while I was working, and I’d have to find him again.”
When the ice cleared in July, Noel and the man boarded the SS Kyle to St. John’s. He brought the patient to the Waterford Hospital and reported to RCMP Headquarters, where he hoped to get a few days off in St. John’s after being in Nain alone for two years. The sergeant major at the time told him to get on the train immediately and go to Gander, where he had to get the flight to St. Anthony on the Northern Peninsula to complete his medical if he wanted to join the RCMP. He did as he was told and passed his medical with flying colours.
He left a Newfoundland Ranger and returned to Nain a Mountie. “No one noticed. A policeman was a policeman to them.”
He calls his three years in Nain the highlight of his career. “The people took care of me. Whatever they caught, whether it was fish or wild game, they gave me some.” As the only policeman in the community, he did not have time to fish and hunt. “I was too busy.”
Noel points to a picture of him paddling a canoe through a river. “They made that canoe and gave it to me. The people really took care of me. Best three years of my service.”
Eventually, he was sent to Ottawa for a four-week refresher course as an introduction to the RCMP. “Three Newfoundlanders were sent, and we had a grand time. There was a big parade and everything.”
There was one thing about the RCMP he didn’t like. “When I made an application to get married, at that time you had to have $1,200 in the bank and be free of debt. I was paying off a car, but I had money enough to pay off the car and still be free of debt. So, I put in my application.”
The superintendent at the time ruled the car loan meant he had debt and charged him with making a false statement. He would not give Noel permission to get married. The superintendent then waited for months before giving him permission to see if Noel’s fiancée was pregnant—that would have meant Noel would be fired.
She was not pregnant, and in August 1952, he finally married Violet Noseworthy and had two children, Marjorie and Paul. Violet passed away from cancer in 1995. In 1998, he remarried Jean Day, who was a long-time friend, and they are still married. Jean is at the Salvation Army Glenbrook Lodge, a few blocks away from his home at Tiffany Lane. He visits her every day.
After Nain, he was transferred to Customs and Excise in St. John’s, where he spent the next 10 years. He searched the Spanish trawlers on the waterfront for illegal liquor. “I felt bad about charging the Spaniards, though,” he adds. “They’d be charged $50, and in those days that was big money for a poor sailor.”
His job also included patrolling the “houses of ill repute.” “There was one old lady, and we had a job trying to catch her. We knew what she was doing but could not prove it. Then one Sunday morning we were watching her house. She came out to feed the chickens, and we took off in, and we caught them in the act.” He chuckles at the memory.
He was later promoted to corporal and transferred to Clarenville for the last six years of his career. In total, he served 20 years in the RCMP.
After retirement, he worked with Brinks for 10 years. Then, until he was 74, he was the chauffeur for C. A. Pippy, a member of a very wealthy local family. “She had a big Cadillac, and I used to drive her around in it.” The memory of Mrs. Pippy and her family makes him smile broadly.
He thinks back over the years. “I loved my career as a policeman. It was a good, respectable service. I think back over the three years I spent in Nain the most. They were sure friends to me, and I never forgot them for that.”
Corporal Noel smiles when he thinks back over his life. He gets excited when he talks about being a policeman. His wrinkled face is a road map that tells the incredible journey of his life. He still carries the tattered pictures neatly tucked in his wallet.
There were 204 enlisted men who served in the Newfoundland Rangers. As he shuffles along holding his walker, I wonder if the other residents realize he is a living legend.
One of the last Rangers.
Richard Noel passed away on November 21, 2019, at the age of 92.
A Newfoundlander by Choice
On a bitterly cold day in December 1955, Staff Sergeant Bob Healey and four of his troopmates boarded the train in Regina, Saskatchewan, having just completed nine months of recruit training at the RCMP Depot. The eager officers were bound for Newfoundland—a relatively new province of Canada.
Neither of them had been to this province before. “We looked forward with excitement and some trepidation to our new postings,” 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 spent a good many hours bent over the toilet bowl, sometimes colloquially referred to as the big white telephone.” If such were the case, Healey says, “I 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, Healey recalls he and his young comrades had a unique experience travelling on the Bullet.
“We travelled in our red serge at that time, and we mixed, I think, comfortably with loggers and others who were fellow travellers. 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 recruit, Staff Sergeant Healey was young and full of vigour but also green as grass.
“My landlady, knowing I was travelling 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, Healey and another member also from out of province were required to travel to both Lark Harbour and Woods Island. The communities were only accessible by boat, which proved challenging, he says. “We travelled 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 Woods Island, the only boat the officers could get was a schooner-type vessel that had two motors, but only one of which worked—and that one was not too reliable, 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, Healey also served in six other detachments and had occasion to serve temporarily at a seventh.
“Like all 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.
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 did not 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.”
Looking back at his career, 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, Staff Sergeant Healey says he cares deeply for Newfoundland.
“It’s by choice now I consider myself a Newfoundlander,” he says.
A Hero One Day, and the Next Day Still a Constable!
After joining the RCMP in 1965, Earl Roddick spent 15 months standing under the Peace Tower and running around the Governor General 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, 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. 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.”
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 would probably get involved in a game of cards that evening. It was like the world was okay.”
It was while stationed in Corner Brook that Roddick met his wife, Mary Rose Hickey.
“I always refer to my stint in Corner Brook in that I got shot twice there. Once by a guy with a .303 rifle. Then I got shot by Cupid.” The couple have 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, Roddick had served 36 years with the RCMP, 32 of those 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 proudly states.
On October 24, 1970, Constable Roddick was involved in a shooting incident. He subdued an assailant who shot and wounded Constable William Ross Black. Roddick was also injured by a ricochet bullet. He later received an award of bravery for his involvement.
Constable Roddick says he was stationed in Corner Brook and did not know about the pending award. He was on holidays, camping with his family near Port Saunders, when a police car arrived at the campsite, and the officer told him, “You have to go to St. John’s tomorrow to attend a parade for the commissioner.”
Roddick packed up and drove back to Corner Brook, where he received a ride with Inspector Ralph Williams and his wife to Torbay, where he and his wife stayed with her relatives. The next day he called a taxi to take him to St. John’s Detachment. He says, “I had no idea where the parade was taking place.”
He arrived at St. John’s Detachment in a downpour of rain and was told the parade was taking place in a building about a quarter-mile away, but they could not provide a ride to the site. “So, in red serge, we walked to the building. I was the only wet one on the parade.”
When he arrived at the parade site, he was told by Sergeant Major Lundrigan that he was late, and they were waiting for him to march up, meet the commissioner, and receive the award.
Roddick adds, “To that date I had never met the commissioner nor the commanding officer, Assistant Commissioner K. B. M. Fraser.”
While marching up to get his award, he had to pick one person in front of whom to stand. He took a chance and hoped that it was the commissioner and not the other. This did not work out too well for him. As he was smartly saluting who he thought was the commissioner, the gentleman whispered under his breath, “Not me!” and signalled to his right. “That’s the commissioner.”
Constable Roddick moved two steps to his left and saluted the commissioner, who, as it turned out, was in much better humour than the guy next to him.
Roddick notes, “Myself and my wife had a great conversation with the commissioner after, and he was a real gentleman. The other guy did not seem to be interested in having any conversation and moved on.”
The commissioner gave him a cheque for $100 to cover the cost of taking his wife out for dinner that evening. This was the only expense that he was able to claim for the entire trip. The next day, Constable Roddick and his wife met Inspector Williams and received a ride back to Corner Brook with him.
“So, I was a hero one day, and the next day still a constable.”