The Freemason's Little Red Pocket Book

by Kevan van Herd MPS

The reunion of the old British Colum-
bia Provincial Police in 1977 was a gold
mine of fascinating stories of early
British Columbia. A large proportion of
the crowd were members of the Craft
the senior man being Brother G. J.
Duncan, who, at age 93 possessed the
keenest memory of long-past events.
One yarn occurred while in charge of
the detachment of McDames Creek - a
particularly isolated post in the Cassiar.
What follows is but one of his tales of
the North.

Brother G J. Duncan speaks. . .

"It was in 1936, in those days you
were sent to a detachment, and if there
was no accommodation you made your
own. I was on the roof of the log cabin
under construction when a river boat
came from downstream - Lower Post, at
the junction of the Dease and Liard
Rivers. The river pilot waved excitedly,
so I dropped everything and strode
down to the shoreline. "Old Jim
Wheeler is dead! - He shot himself
through the head with his rifle!" Old
Wheeler lived all alone about 40 miles
downstream from McDames Creek. I'd
met him a couple of times, and during
our talks he'd revealed himself as a
member of the Craft. I made arrange-
ments to go down early next morning.
In the remote parts of British Columbia
a coroner's jury consisted of six men
good and true, plus the coroner and a
policeman.

"On the long trip down I first heard
about the complex web of adventure
and intrigue revolving around "the
little red pocketbook. " Brother
Wheeler had been searching for years
Up French Creek for the gold said to be
in a very rich pocket. There was sup-
posed to be a stone at the top of a hill or
mountain with a square and compasses
carved on it, which was the reference
point of the lode. But first we had a job
to do. Poor old Wheeler, like all good
prospectors, first shot his dogs before
turning the gun on himself. Alas! Many
prospectors and trappers in the early
days of the Province had little or noth-
ing to look forward to when they came
to the end of the trail. The jury found
the obvious verdict, then the coroner
ordered interment. While the details are
a bit vague after 40 years, I do remem-
ber giving the burial service before a
small group of trappers, a Hudson Bay
Company trader, and two or three Indi-
ans. I inserted a few Masonic phrases
but they passed unnoticed. "

"On returning to my detachment I
tried to find more about the story of the
red pocket book. During the following
several years I picked up a bit here and
a rnorsel there. A couple of letters were
put aside and just the other day I came
across them. One informant wrote:
"Old Wheeler had many sides to his
life. He was trying to get gold up
French Creek. He came in years ago on
that tale of the Red Pocket Book and
that sack of gold that Galbraith (of Tele-
graph Creek) saw and weighed, and
which went down in the fall and ap-
peared at Wrangell in another man's
possession. The original fellow - he was
a Freemason - died half way down to
Wrengell. Old Fred Lynch saw the
pocket book and weighted the gold
again, and then the fellow went to
Frisco. Since that time many men have
come into the yarn, including the
Freemason buried at Telegraph Creek
---about six men have died on that af-
fair. It's still alive. The gold came out
OK but somewhere from the top end of
Moose River."

"After the war I went back into the
North as Indian Agent. Part of my
Agency covered this area which
straddles the British Columbia/Yukon
border. From time to time the Old
Timers would bring out intriguing snip-
pets of information on the story. After
putting in a few winters in the bush
most men become good raconteurs, and
many rather ordinary events are embel-
lished into fascinating stories. But this
one didn't need gilding - it was the real
thing. "

"One man told me an Indian named
Jackson told him he saw the owner of
the red pocket book murdered on the
Stikine River. The murderer turned the
gold over to "Old Man Lynch in a
Wrangell Hotel". Oddly enough I can-
not remember ever hearing the name of
the Mason who discovered the gold and
who carved the square and compasses
on the nearby rock. Several men flew
from Teslin in the early 30's looking for
a granite boulder on top of a sheep
range somewhere near Wolf Lake. They
crashed and were either killed or died
later. Presumably the granite boulde is
one of the clues to the mother lode; all
probably referred to in the rcd pocket
book.

There were at least five dead men in-
volved in thd tale, not including Brother
Wheeler. One man, long since passed
away, went out from Telegraph Creek to
look for the Mason's gold three times.
This meant a complete summer each
trip."

" I have a note that says. "

"Old man Watson (after whom Watson
Lake is named) knew a lot about the affair,
but he's gone. He worked all those streams in
the Upper Liard - but it's on the plattau at the
top end of one of 'em. If only I could once
again find the carved Freemason Stone where
the fellow was buried."

"I am not sure who this fellow was.
Obviously not the one who went out
with the gold on the early '20's and dis-
appeared between Telegraph Creek and
Wrengell - or was murdered! Although I
knew him f fairly well, old Tommy
Cigar - or Tisiga- - never mentioned that
he once came across "the carved
granite rock and the sluce boxes  all
grown through with willows and cotton-
woods". Yet he told Harper Reed, the
Indian Agent at Telegraph Creek in the
20's and 30's."

'As young policeman with a zest for
adventure, the North was facinating.
Every day was an event. . .''

