Gothic-Horror.com

Preamble

Having grown up in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, a pristine city surrounded by water on all but its eastern boundary, my first memories stem from walks along Napier Street in that city’s eastside. Two roads in that particular part of town do not follow the strict north/south lines of most main thoroughfares running in these directions within Vancouver. Knight Street turns into Clark Drive, and Victoria Drive becomes Commercial Drive at a curious, almost similar, northerly location. As with most topical lines which do not follow an exact course, one is always curious as to the reason for such a deviation from the ‘norm’. In this same general area, once well served by Vancouver’s early 20^th Century streetcar system, there is also a point in this city where the names of the roads in both the north/south and the east/west alignments change their names. I am certain that actual facts exist which one can excerpt from various historical references, documents which would render an accurate and factual reason behind these geographical oddities. Yet, as a young child, it was the wilder tales which impressed one the most; and, although not necessarily true in nature, these tall tales add to the lively folklore of which Vancouver’s earliest history is amply comprised. As with most good fables, this one did start off with: "Once upon a time," and it became an explanation I kindled as an interesting theory as the years passed.

Thus, making little or no effort in excusing myself from writing a gothic ghost story which arrived quite naturally, of its own account, within the confines of my mind one night, I may only vaguely attach some merit from a factual part of Vancouver’s history with the penning of this tale. From the ‘gossip’ I heard as a youth, the reason those two aforementioned roads vary in direction stems from a crime which was once orchestrated in a distant part of the fair city of my youth. It was the tale of a young nanny who was found dead in an old mansion in what was indubitably a separate, and most notable, part of affluent Vancouver, British Columbia at that time--Shaughnessy.

I shall also make no attempt to verify as fact or fiction the part of that ‘historical’ story which spoke of a certain ‘reputable’ individual, a person from a rather prominent family, being accused of the aforementioned crime. Through the work of a most diligent detective, it was said that the suspect was declared ‘innocent’, and that another relative of this particular gentleman wished to thank those who supposedly bought about this amicable declaration.

I am aware that Vancouver did originally have boundaries which greatly differed from those we presently see on our maps. I know equally well that Canada’s authoritarian rule upon this land out West came into effect as we went from a Crown Colony to an actual Province within our great land. Yet, the regulations for alcohol were a provincial matter and developed gradually. Although new laws were eventually enacted, the application and acceptance of these new regulations by the local population was not immediate. Throughout this transitory time of our city’s early history, liquor was dispensed, often without licence or thought, and that the laws on the books were at first rarely followed.

In the story I recall hearing as a boy, the finite eastern edge of Vancouver, a newly founded city which had the power to grant an establishment the privilege to legally dispense alcohol, was originally located along the line which followed Victoria Drive from the northern shore of Vancouver’s harbour south. West of this ‘frontier’ road lay the newly formed city of Vancouver which was then serviced by light rail. This electrified streetcar system’s northern tracks ran eastward along Powell Street and then turned south on Victoria Drive to form the ‘outermost’ part of the rapid transit system of that time. East of this line of demarcation set by Victoria Drive, dirt trails embarked into what was then provincial territory, and no liquor licences were available in this ‘remote’ region.

In the tale I had been told as a child, a particular hotel existed, and still exists, on the northeast corner of the two previously mentioned streets just outside the city’s eastern boundary. Its owner was said to have been somehow related to those who had been instrumental in freeing the distinguished and innocent person originally accused in the Shaughnessy murder. The newly incorporated ‘village’ of Vancouver, which encompassed an area from what had been Gastown (the name of the original European settlement) to the west, Victoria Drive to the east, with the water’s edge to the north, and included land just south of Hastings Street, did not yet have many roads further to the south.

As the story goes, surveyors, who had been sent out to mark the future expansion of the city into that ‘fringe’ territory, were working just about fifteen blocks south of the city line at what had become First Avenue. Vast forests lay in this southern direction; and, at that time, there was little interest in anyone actually ‘thinking’ of ever settling that far from the shores of the Pacific Ocean to the north. The value of the timber and a route toward the Fraser River to the south was the likely reason someone had called for those surveyors. It was said that in an effort to appease the gratitude of one of the families involved in the accused being set free, or perhaps simply due to human error and not actually of their own deliberate account, these workers apparently turned their instruments slightly to the southwest. This deviation in accuracy set both those ‘S’ curves we now have within the city on both Victoria and Clark Drives to the south of that location in that opaque process. At the same time, if one were able to look directly one hundred and eighty degrees to the north of the point the land surveying crew were reputedly at, the boundary of Vancouver had veered one block further east of Victoria Drive at Powell Street. This adjustment was sufficient to encompass that specific hotel, now know as the Princeton Hotel, within Vancouver’s territory, and a liquor licence was applied for.

No written account remains from which I can draw a conclusion as to what the consequences were that the surveyors suffered due to this minor diversion to both of these major thoroughfares. It is also not clear if the said erroneous crew ever found their way back north into this reputable and now most lucrative establishment, but one can only hope that civilization and history were kind to them. To this day, Powell Street becomes Dundas Street and Semlin Drive turns into Wall Street one block east of Victoria Drive. The city has grown over that expanse of time and continues miles to the east and to the south of this then ‘remote’ location.

What is indubitable fact is that the Princeton Hotel is still a most friendly establishment in what is now known as East Vancouver; and, unequivocally, it serves great beer, at reasonable prices, to the local community, to this very day. However, I am not certain if any of the rest of the above fable is true. I am able to say, most emphatically, that my own, fictional, ghost story, "Number 80 Harrow Street", does not dwell on any of the ‘facts’ mentioned in this preamble. It does, however, take place in some fair city wherein fog is known to linger so thickly that one can easily lose one’s way. It also speaks of a murder which takes place within a palatial home, one in which servants from far-off Europe are employed. Yet, nothing in this lonely tale actually relates to the ‘factual’ history of Vancouver, British Columbia or that age-old crime in Shaughnessy. It is but a gothic story which came from within my nefarious and conspiratorial mind one dark and stormy night. Enjoy!

Anton Von Stefan,

June 10, 2014

Go to:  First Page

Go to : Forwards to the Stories

Go to : Home Page

Learn about the Author: A Personal Glimpse

Go to: A Twisted Biography