Communications and Public Affairs
P.O. Box 6042, Station
Montreal P.Q. H3C 3E4
|
Volume 22 Number 10
|
December 1992/January 1993
|
|
A Christmas
Story
By Dave
Jones
|
William C. Van Horne
Christmas at the railway just wouldn't be Christmas without somebody telling the
story about CPR President Sir William Van Horne and his fur-lined overcoat.
It seems Mr. Van Horne was quite pleased with himself as he strode toward the CPR station in Toronto one
Christmas Eve. He was heading for home and hearth in Montreal, all decked out in a new fur-lined
coat with a sable collar which had been a Christmas gift to himself.
Boarding the train and stopping only briefly to fling his coat over a chair in the day coach, Sir William, with
ever present cigar in hand, headed down the corridor to the smoking car.
LOST OVERCOAT
After the train made a quick stop in Brady Junction, where Van Horne visited with the station agent, he returned
to his seat, only to find that the coat had vanished. The only clue to its whereabouts was a sketchy description
of a man walking through the car at Burketon Falls. A now-fuming Van Horne sent a Morse message to
the police in Burketon and headed for the baggage car to retrieve his old overcoat.
Storming through the third-class coach, he spotted, out of the corner of his eye, a man who
appeared to have on a coat remarkable similar to his.
As he attempted to establish eye contact with the passenger, the man looked away and sank lower into his seat.
"Guilty", Van Horne concluded, and he hissed at the man to follow him to the baggage car if he wished
to avoid a fuss in front of the other passengers.
Together with the conductor, the men ducked into the baggage car where Van Horne pulled a handkerchief from the
top pocket of the overcoat with a deft tug.
"Do you know who this coat belongs to?" asked the railway president.
"No," came the reply from the now visibly shaken man. "Well I'll tell you whose it is, it's
mine," said Van Horne, waving the handkerchief in the man's face to back-up his claim.
"And I've a mind to turn you over to the police, as soon as we get to the next stop."
"Oh please, sir, don't do that," the man stammered. "I didn't mean to steal the coat"
"If that's the case, why didn't you hand it to the conductor", roared Van Horne. "What's your
name?"
"Kennedy," came the weak reply.
"And where are you from?" demanded Van Horne.
"Peterborough."
"Well Kennedy, there's too much thievin' going on around here, and I for one won't have it on this
railway. I'll have you in the hands of the police, if I have to deliver you myself."
"No please sir, don't do it," wailed the man. "My poor wife and children are waiting for me to
arrive for Christmas and I've been off working in the bush for the last six months."
"Stop your snivelling, you thievin' coward," Van Horne shot back, now shaking with anger. "You
thieves are all alike; as soon as you're caught at your games, you start to snivel about your wife and kids back
home. No, my mind's made up, it's off to jail with you."
As the train pulled in to Dranoel, Van Horne ordered the conductor to fetch the police and the man was cuffed
and led off into the night.
BABY CARRIAGE
Resting on a packing case, and now beginning to calm down, the president noticed a baby carriage in the corner
of the baggage car.
"Must have been a man who bought that," Van Horne muttered to the conductor. "A woman would have
had the good sense to have the thing outfitted with runners for the winter".
The conductor casually turned the baggage tag hanging from the handle of the buggy, and dropped it as if he had
seen a ghost.
"What is it, man?" Van Horne queried.
"The baggage tag, sir, it says Kennedy, Peterborough."
"Good God, that's the man I just had arrested," Van Horne said, the thoughts rushing through his mind
in rapid succession. He could picture a woman standing on the platform at Peterborough, children at her side,
anxiously awaiting her husband's return for Christmas.
Maybe the man had acted innocently enough. Maybe he thought the coat had been abandoned and would end up in
some railway lost and found somewhere.
Van Horne was off the train before it came to a full stop at the next station.
"Give me the key," he called out to the operator, as he strode into the agent's office, the president
being a skilled telegraph operator himself.
Quickly a message was fired off to the Dranoel agent: "Great mistake has been made. Get police to
release Kennedy immediately. Get engine and car and run special to Peterborough. Kennedy must get there tonight.
"By whose order," came back the reply.
"The president of the CPR," was the terse response.
Before long, the president's train was easing into Peterborough, as a light snow was falling. Sure enough, as
Van Horne's feet hit the platform, he could make out the silhouette of a woman with a baby in her arms and three
other children flocking around her.
"Excuse me, ma'am", said Sir William, "are you Mrs. Kennedy?"
"Yes, sir, I am," came the reply.
"Well, your husband will be along before too long; he has had a slight delay," the president said, as
he extended his arm in greeting. "May I wish you and your family a very Merry Christmas," he said,
pumping the woman's hand with great vigor.
As he turned and swung himself back up into the train, Mrs. Kennedy looked down into her hand, somewhat confused
by the rapid exchange. There in her open palm was $20.
|
This CP Rail News article is copyright
1992 by the Canadian Pacific Railway and is reprinted here with
their permission. All photographs, logos, and trademarks are the property of the Canadian Pacific Railway
Company.
|
