There were two other theatres also offering the newest in silent film productions. The Dawson Amateur Athletic Association (DAAA), at the corner of Queen Street and Fifth Avenue, was presenting a drama (Two Daughters of Eve), two comedies (Two Gay Dogs and Chumps) and a weekly Pathé newsreel. The admission was twenty-five cents, and for the reserved seats, fifty. Professor Carpenter provided musical accompaniment on the piano. Meanwhile, the Orpheum Theatre on Front Street was presenting three dramas and two comedies.
When the visiting Shriners’ wives met for a garden party at the home of Mrs. Gus Johnson on August 4, 1914, they had little idea that Canada would be at war by the end of the day. yukon archives roy minter fonds 92/15 # 314
That evening, the Shriners were present at a special program of entertainment at the DAAA, which included, in addition to films, the singing of Miss Hazel Hartshorn, and a monologue and dancing by Danny Green. Just as the performance was ending at the DAAA, news reached the patrons that the British fleet had sunk six German ships. Mr. Walter Creamer, the manager of the theatre, projected a slide of the king on the screen, and Professor Carpenter struck the introductory chords to “Rule, Britannia!” The audience rose as one and sang “until the house shook.”3 That was followed by “God Save the King.” When a picture of Queen Mary was projected on the screen, the crowd sang “The Maple Leaf Forever.”
The same happened at the other theatres. The Auditorium Theatre was filled to capacity. During an interval, a telegram was passed to George Black, the commissioner of the Yukon Territory. Upon reading it, he went to the stage and, after a perceptible pause, eloquent with suppressed emotion, read the cable. The message was from the federal undersecretary of state, saying that England was at war with Germany.
In silence, men and women looked at each other aghast, trying to absorb the significance of the announcement. According to Martha Black, wife of the commissioner:
In the centre of the house about twenty scarlet-coated members of the Royal North West Mounted Police occupied seats. Two of the men, brothers, were former members of the Coldstream Guards, well over six feet in height, and both with fine voices. They looked at each other, whispered to other members of the force with them, rose to their feet and commenced singing “God Save the King.” The effect was electrical; with one move the audience was on its feet and never in the world… was the national anthem sung with greater fervour or more depth of feeling than that night in this tiny mining village on the edge of the Arctic.4
As they filed out of the theatres onto the twilit streets of Dawson, men and women, young and old were abuzz with earnest discussion. Although it was not yet officially stated, the community understood what this meant: that Canada, too, was at war alongside Britain. The Yukon was now at war.
The following evening, at the end of their stay in Dawson City, the visiting Shriners were feted at a grand ball in the Arctic Brotherhood (AB) Hall (today known as Diamond Tooth Gertie’s). The hall was colourfully decorated with Union Jacks and flags of other nationalities, Shriner emblems, pennants and bunting. Evergreens and a myriad of potted flowers and swinging baskets adorned the room. The festivities were interrupted when the Yukon’s member of parliament, Dr. Alfred Thompson, read out news bulletins just received by the Dawson Daily News. Mounting the rostrum, Thompson read out the first announcement, which called for parliament to convene on August 18. The announcement was greeted by cheers and the singing of the national anthem. The second message announced a major naval victory, after which the orchestra played “Rule, Britannia!” According to the account published in the Dawson Daily News of August 7, “from every throat welled the chorus till the house shook. Then followed ‘God Save the King,’ and three cheers and a tige[r]. Commissioner Black was present on the platform and joined heartily in the demonstration.”5
“We all had read skimpy reports of European troubles in the Dawson Daily News,” wrote Laura Berton, wife of the mining recorder, “but Europe, really, seemed a planet or so away.”6A month earlier, the Dawson Daily News of June 30 carried a brief article noting the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. It consisted of only sixty-seven words.
This was an inauspicious way to herald the coming of a global Armageddon. The headlines in the Dawson Daily News devoted more space to the events surrounding the Mexican Revolution, and upheaval in Ireland, but by the end of July, reports from Europe became increasingly ominous.
On July 25, the News stated that Austria-Hungary and Serbia were engaged in open hostilities. Russia was sympathetic with the Serbian cause. If it became involved, Germany would stand behind the Austro-Hungarian position. Britain, though not in a state of war with Germany over the “Pan-Servian question,” placed its fleet on a war basis on July 27.
By July 30, the headlines in the Dawson Daily News declared that Britain might not be able to remain apart from the conflict. Across the country, Canadians were abuzz with discussions about the latest developments. Crowds gathered outside of newspaper offices in small towns and large cities in the hope of seeing new reports as soon as they were posted. At that time, people thought that the conflict would be over by Christmas.
It is unclear how these events affected people in Dawson City. There was no commentary in the newspaper regarding public stirrings of concern, yet the News was well supplied with images of all the key players in the conflict by the end of July. “WAR EXTRA” declared the Dawson Daily News in a headline that filled one third of the front page of the August 1 edition: “Germany Declares War on the Russians.”7
The Volunteers
official notice from the Canadian government of Britain’s declaration of war against Germany reached Commissioner George Black on August 6. Subsequent declarations of war against the Austro-Hungarian Empire (August 13) and Bulgaria (October 15) would follow within weeks. Black immediately wired the secretary of state that a force of volunteers would be raised in the Yukon. The day after the official notification of war arrived, Black placed advertisements in the newspaper calling for volunteers.8 He and Dr. Alfred Thompson, Yukon’s member of parliament, were the first to sign their names in a ledger laid out in the lobby of the Territorial Administration Building, which stood in a prominent location on Fifth Avenue, on land set aside for government use. Sixty-seven others followed their example; by war’s end, most of them had signed up and shipped to Europe. Of the men who signed the ledger, only two identified themselves as Canadian—the rest, nearly half of whom were born in Canada, listed their nationality as British. Dr. Thompson said: “Our Empire and our Dominion now face the greatest crisis in their history, and I feel it is my duty to be in Ottawa when such momentous matters are to be discussed.”9 A large notice placed by the commissioner appeared in the Dawson Daily News on August 9 calling for volunteers. Veterans and servicemen, British subjects who were less than thirty-five years of age and capable of passing a rigid medical examination, were preferred.
Men immediately stepped forward to sign up. Most believed that the conflict would not last very long. Many of the first to volunteer in support of the empire were born in Britain. Howard Grestock, a Londoner and veteran of the Boer War, was the first. Within days of the declaration, he was aboard the steamer Dawson, heading Outside—out of the Yukon—to enlist. He signed his papers on September 22 at Valcartier, Quebec, and shipped out with his old regiment, the Lord Strathcona’s Horse. His letters from France would be published in the News for years to come. With him was Jack Maitland. During the Boer War, Maitland was with the Royal Scots Greys and was wounded twice. A large crowd