Inspector Romain cracked down hard on county booze in 1872

The following is a re-print of a past column by former Advertiser  columnist Stephen Thorning, who passed away on Feb. 23, 2015. Some text  has been updated to reflect changes since the original publication and  any images used may not be the same as those that accompanied the  original publication.

(Last week’s column featured a  brief biography of Charles Romain, District Inspector for the Department  of Inland Revenue in the 1870s. This week looks at some of his  activities in north Wellington, closing down illicit stills.)

When  the Department of Inland Revenue was created after Confederation,  Charles Romain was the first (and only) official appointment in  Wellington County.

As the department began to function, Romain  quickly received a promotion to the position of District Inspector. This  covered responsibilities not only in Wellington County, but over a  large area of southwestern Ontario.

Romain’s duties, according to  his job description, were largely administrative. He issued licences for  the operation of distilleries, collected data on their activities, and  made frequent unannounced visits to licenced distilleries. The actual  collection of the tax fell to the Collector of Inland Revenue, James  Gow.

In practice, one duty assumed a disproportionate amount of Romain’s time: investigating illegal distilleries.

Shortly  after his appointment, Romain rented office space in Guelph, in rooms  above a store on Carden Street, across from city hall. His absences  became frequent, especially after 1871, when he decided to move  decisively against the moonshiners. With an ear to the ground, and by  gradually developing an extensive network of reliable informants, Romain  began to realize the full dimensions of the illegal whiskey business,  which appeared to be concentrated in Maryborough, Minto, Arthur and  Luther Townships, plus adjoining townships in Grey and Bruce Counties.

Romain  made some scattered investigations of these operations in 1869, 1870  and 1871. All he accomplished was to become well known in the bailiwick  of the moonshiners. News of his presence in the area preceded his  movements there. The still operators had the sympathy of the vast  majority of their neighbours, who would go to great lengths to protect  them and to mislead Romain. He seized pieces of distilling equipment,  but could never catch anyone in the act of operating them. Charles  Romain loved a challenge like this. He had never liked the dull routine  of desk work. With his other duties well in hand, he decided to make  north Wellington his priority for 1872.

Moonshiners liked the  northern townships because a large proportion of the land was as yet  uncleared. The distillers could set up in an inconspicuous site, make  their whiskey, then haul it out to ready markets in the south of  Wellington and as far as Hamilton. In many cases, the owner of the farm  was not aware of the presence of trespassers. Those who were aware, with  few exceptions, remained tight lipped.

Early in January of 1872,  an informant tipped off Romain about a distilling operation some four  miles west of Arthur village on the Arthur-Maryborough boundary. He  managed to slip into Arthur undetected. Once there, he hired four local  men as special constables. All had been involved in law enforcement  activities on a part-time basis.

With his four assistants, Romain  proceeded to the site. The equipment was warm, and there was a small  quantity of whiskey on the site. This pleased Romain. Had he been  expected, the operators would have removed their whiskey. He removed the  condensing coil from the apparatus for use as evidence.

Within  hours, Romain realized that his next move was a mistake. He left the  four men in charge of the site while he went on to interview the owner  of the farm and to follow some leads about the identity of the operator.  The four had instructions to destroy the equipment completely. Instead,  they removed a few pieces from it.

When Romain was out of sight,  they told the farmer that they would return the following day to haul  the boiler away. Chief Inspector Romain never saw any of this equipment  again. It was a hard lesson, but it increased his respect for his foe.  They were not all unsophisticated hayseeds. Indeed, they were almost as  good at this game as he was.

A major decision was to minimize his  use of temporary local assistants. After this point, Romain normally  arrived on the scene with his colleague James Gow, the Collector of  Inland Revenue. The two worked very well together. Gow became a sidekick  to Romain, accompanying him on most of his raids beginning in the  spring of 1872.

A fresh opportunity appeared in late April 1872:  reliable information about a good-sized operation on the Grand River,  just east of Grand Valley. Moving cautiously, Romain and Gow went to  Orangeville on May 6, planning to approach the site from the east, where  they were much less known.

They planned to catch the westbound  train bound for Arthur and Mount Forest, slip off at Grand Valley, and  proceed to the still before news of their presence could get there.

Eating  some lunch at the station restaurant at Orangeville, Romain’s eyes  scanned the room. He feared losing the element of surprise. He noted  something that looked like trouble. A couple of men were chatting with  the crew of the Mount Forest train, and were nodding their heads in his  direction from time to time.

Gow and Romain boarded the train with  the rest of the passengers. When the train passed Waldemar station,  Romain announced that he wanted some fresh air, and went out on the open  platform of the car. In fact, he wanted to get a better view of  anything that might happen.

He knew he was right when the train  slowed to a crawl. A man slipped off the train, and took off into the  swamp. Romain took off after him into the swamp. He fell a little behind  because he did not know the terrain, but caught up with him at the site  of the distillery.

The man turned out to be Reeve Dawson of  Luther Township. He had helped a man and his wife lower the equipment  out of site into the Grand River. They were in the process of rolling a  50 gallon barrel of whiskey into the river when Romain caught up with  them. Romain pulled out his revolver and ordered the people to freeze.  After a few moments James Gow arrived on the scene, out of breath and  scratched by the underbrush. Gow made an inventory of the equipment  while Romain covered the three with his gun and began asking questions.

The  proprietor gave his name as W.J. Johnson. The site was near a tavern  and ashery owned by the partnership of Hicks and Evans. After a while,  “Johnson” admitted that he was Hicks, and that the woman was his wife.  There was no sign of Evans. Hicks and his wife claimed to have no idea  where Evans was at that time.

This was the first time that Romain had caught the operators of a still so red handed.

After  a preliminary hearing, the case did not reach trial until October 1874,  and when it did, it was heard in Toronto. This is an extraordinary  length of time for the 1870s, when most cases, even very serious  criminal ones, were dealt with in a couple of months at most.

Why did this one take so long to get to trial? I have found nothing to explain it, but have some suspicions.

Romain  maintained social contacts with the upper society in Toronto, including  senior government and court officials. He had attended Upper Canada  College, and some of his classmates now held positions of authority. I  strongly suspect that Romain wanted to make an example of Hicks, and  took his time to set the trial up beforehand.

The charges were  against both Evans and Hicks, but there was no real evidence against  Evans. Hicks must have realized that his situation was hopeless. He did  not even bother engaging a lawyer, and sat through the trial with no  defence counsel. Romain and Gow were the only witnesses against Hicks.  Romain did not want to risk bringing in any secondary witnesses who  might cloud the evidence. Romain punctuated his evidence with sarcastic  asides and comments. He ridiculed the quality of Hicks’ whiskey, which  he claimed tested at only 33 proof. In taste and quality, he told the  court, it was “ordinary swamp whiskey.” Though he pleaded not guilty,  Hicks offered no evidence in his defence. He faced six separate charges,  all of which overlapped to some extent.

In his address to the  jury, the judge noted there was no real evidence against Evans. He went  through the list of charges against Hicks, saying “they could scarcely  doubt” that he had committed the offences.  His Lordship then instructed  the jury to bring in guilty verdicts on all the charges. The penalties  might be harsh, he admitted, but that was the intent of the law.

The jury returned in less than 20 minutes, with guilty verdicts on all charges. The judge then listed the penalties:

- distilling illegally $200;

- rectifying illegally (a stage in the process designed to remove impurities) $200;

- failure to secure a licence, $600, plus unpaid tax on whiskey found $63;

- possession of distilling equipment $100;

- failure to make a return describing the equipment $500;

- failure to provide other information $100.

The fines totalled $1,663.

Romain had made an example of Hicks.

This  was an era when a reasonable annual salary was in the range of $600.  The equivalent in today’s money would be well in excess of $100,000 in  fines.

Hicks, as the proprietor of a small tavern, could not  possibly have been able to pay such a fine. It is also doubtful that he  ever made much money with his still. Swamp whiskey sold at very low  prices. It had to, considering the abysmal quality of it. The Hicks case  is notable because it was the first major blow struck by Charles Romain  in his battle with the moonshiners. There would be others as Romain cut  a swath through the illegal distilling business in Wellington.

(Next week: The continuing adventures of Chief Inspector Romain. Part three: fun and games in Fergus.)

*This column was originally published in the Wellington Advertiser on Aug. 2, 1999.