In Whitehorse in February, five reels were shown as part of a program sponsored by the IODE, supplementing an evening that featured singing by both children and adults. Several compositions had been specially prepared for the event (people were regularly penning patriotic songs, whose lyrics were often published in the newspapers).44 The films included a two-reel Italian love story, the weekly Pathé newsreel, a reel with four comedies and the film titled High Tide. The program was followed by dancing, and the management charged admission for all the men who tried to slip into the dance after the films were shown.45
In April 1915, Martha Black received a package containing battlefield souvenirs from Walter Greenaway, a former Mountie who served in the Dawson detachment, now stationed overseas with the Coldstream Guards. The noses from a couple of German artillery shells and a spiked German helmet, which contained inside it the name of the soldier and the unit he belonged to, were placed on display in the front window of Charles Jeanneret’s jewelry store.46 Mrs. Black could be counted on to give a wholehearted contribution to any event she attended. In July, she gave a speech at the annual session of the Anglican Church women’s auxiliary. “There are but few of us in this most northerly bit of British territory possessing large means,” she said, “ but what we can afford we can give cheerfully and regularly.”47 One of these ladies, Marie Joussaye Fotheringham, published a book of poetry titled Anglo-Saxon Songs, and the proceeds were donated to various causes, including the local war veterans association.48
In the past year, Mrs. Black noted, they had raised more than $20,000 for various causes. And the fundraising would continue apace in Dawson City. A couple of days later, at the Discovery Day event at Minto Park beside the administration building, the IODE sold refreshments for the patriotic cause. Money from a fundraiser at the Auditorium Theatre on Labour Day was contributed to the machine gun fund. The ladies achieved their goal, and the money was sent off; Sam Hughes, the minister of militia and defence sent a letter of thanks to Commissioner Black, acknowledging their contribution.49 Another event sponsored by the IODE in late November at the DAAA included Pathé newsreels and other films. Everybody joined in with songs or recitals; Charlie MacPherson sang “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” and Mrs. Frank (Laura) Berton sang Kipling’s immortal “Recessional.” This event raised another $250.50
America may not yet have entered the war, but in Dawson City, the American Women’s Club threw themselves wholeheartedly into fundraising. The club held a Fourth of July picnic in 1916, and the White Pass Company provided them with the steamer Casca and a barge for the purpose. Lunch was served on the Casca, and ice cream on the barge. Lemonade and cigars were sold to the revellers. They also organized a patriotic fundraising ball at the Arctic Brotherhood Hall. The event was a grand affair attended by the acting commissioner George Williams and his wife, as well as Judge Macaulay. Their Fourth of July picnic alone brought in $1,100, and other events raising thousands more dollars followed over the course of the war.51
The most high-profile IODE event of 1916, Alexandra Rose Day, was sponsored by the George M. Dawson chapter at Government House on July 20. Charming matrons circulated on the grounds selling roses handmade by children with disabilities in England. No one could say no to them. People played bridge in the drawing rooms and circulated throughout the main floor rooms, smoking and talking. The rooms were filled with a profusion of cut flowers taken from the government greenhouse. Ice cream, cake, sandwiches and coffee were served on the lawn, while people played various games, the most popular being “Swat the Kaiser.” Likenesses of Kaiser Wilhelm II and the crown prince were placed on hinged boards in front of a canvas backstop, and three tennis balls could be thrown at them for twenty-five cents. Winners received a fancy cigar or other gift. Meanwhile, an orchestra played on the verandah, where there was also enough room for dancing the waltzes and one-steps.52
One of the most creative money-raising schemes for the patriotic fund came from the Duchess of Connaught. Mrs. Black got her to knit six pairs of socks on her knitting machine. When she received them, Mrs. Black raffled three pairs for $25 and sold the other three pairs for the same amount. The winner of the raffle returned the socks, and the IODE raffled them a second time, making $100 more.53
By the end of 1915, the total amount paid out to various funds and societies in the Yukon for war purposes was more than $53,000.54 By March 1916, that amount had risen to $62,000. An article in the Dawson Daily News estimated that Yukoners had donated often and generously at a rate of $12 per capita, compared with $1 per person in the rest of the country. “It is doubtful,” the article concluded, “if anywhere in the world a larger per capita contribution is given any war fund.”55 This was a recurring theme in newspaper articles and speeches until the end of the war.
Fifty Brave Men
The Yukon’s exceptional support for the war was not limited to fundraising. Yukon men volunteered to serve in numbers that dwarfed the rates of enlistment in other parts of Canada. Nearly one thousand men, from a population of four to five thousand, enlisted before the end of the war. Most notable among the first to step forward was a group of men who joined a machine gun unit sponsored by local mining millionaire Joe Boyle.
If anybody was to fit the mould of heroic figure, it was Joe Boyle, whose exploits were filled with the sort of bravery, leadership and adventure that inspire books and movies.
Boyle was born in Woodstock, Ontario, in 1867. Always an independent spirit, he went to sea as a deckhand while in his teens. By the time he left the seafaring life three years later at age twenty, he had been promoted to ship’s quartermaster. Next, he ran a lucrative feed- and grain-shipping business in the United States, but his dreams of expanding into a nationwide chain of grain elevators fell through, so he moved on. He went on an exhibition tour, promoting fights for Australian heavyweight boxing champion Frank Slavin, who was known as the “Sydney Cornstalk.”
In Seattle, in the early summer of 1897, Boyle and Slavin caught wind of the opportunities in the Klondike. They headed north before the full stampede began, and Boyle soon found himself working on claim number 13 on Eldorado Creek, where he became friends with its owner, the notorious “Swiftwater” Bill Gates.56 They forged a partnership of sorts and headed out of the Yukon just about the time the Yukon River was starting to freeze up in the fall. Fighting through ice floes and bitter arctic weather, they made their way up the Yukon River to Carmacks Post, where they joined forces with another party that was attempting to make their way out of the Yukon over the Dalton Trail.
Fighting snow, wind and bitter cold, they battled for weeks to reach their destination, Haines Mission, on the Alaskan panhandle, not far from Skagway. It was only through Boyle’s leadership and forceful determination that the party reached the coast safely. In gratitude, everyone chipped in to purchase a watch, which they presented to him once they reached Seattle.
Boyle was a force of nature. Stocky and barrel-chested, he had the chiselled features that would have made him a movie star in Hollywood. Contemptuous of bureaucrats and authority figures, Boyle was a take-charge man, attracted by adventure. He was a born storyteller who liked to be at the centre of things, but above all, he was a man who followed his own direction. He also had a vision of the future, and he could clearly see that mucking about in the frozen gravel was not for him. Instead, he saw massive machines chewing up the Klondike placers and collecting the gold trapped within. So he headed to Ottawa, where he was able to secure a concession for several kilometres of ground in the Klondike Valley upon which to build his dream. He was then able to secure financing from Rothschild interests in Detroit, and through a series of legal manoeuvres, took control of the Canadian Klondyke Mining Company.
Soon he had valuable waterfront property, a profitable sawmill business and a gold dredging company, which eventually built the three largest dredges in the Klondike. By 1912, he was a millionaire and had taken over the title of “King of the Klondike” from Big Alex McDonald, who had