With
the inquest over, it would seem that discussion on the Mackay-Gaw matter,
and on morality in 1914 would die away.
However, the
Spectator managed to extend things after receiving a letter from a girl who had
attended some of the notorious parties at 196 Hughson Street South.
Her letter to the
Spectator follow:
“To the Editor :
I trust you will find
space in your columns to print the following letter in defense of James Gow,
the gentleman who, alone and friendless in his hour of need, took his life
yesterday.
To begin with, I am a
girl of twenty years of age – a stenographer – visiting at present, friends in
your city.
This is my third
visit to Hamilton, and on such occasions, I have met and been entertained by
Mr. Gow. I was introduced to him by a girl friend, and he asked us if we cared
to ‘come up’ that evening. My friend said she thought it could be arranged –
and, as I was a stranger, knowing nothing whatever about him, I agreed to
accompany her.
When we arrived at
his home that evening, we found a number of girls already there, and had scarcely
divested ourselves our wraps came in – they were very young – and Mr. Gow, who
was talking to us, asked them how they managed to get up so soon again, to
which one replied, ‘Oh, I’m supposed to be down at A—‘s place, helping her make
a hat, and she is supposed to be at my place.’ He said, in reply, ‘You must
leave early, then, or your parents will wonder what has kept you.’ To this the
same girl replied, ‘Oh, you know A—lives east of of Sherman avenue, and I can
miss the last car, and have to walk all the way home, and she can say the same
to her people.’ With that, we joined the others, and general introductions
followed. Stranger though I was, most of those men’s names were familiar to me
as prominent business men; but the two girls of whom I speak were the only
young ones – the others’ ages would range from twenty-two or three to thirty
years. Music, singing, dancing and supper were indulged in. Wine was served,
but none forced to partake of it. Mr. Gow, who seated himself by me, remarked
on my abstinence, and when I said I never drank, he said, ‘You’re wise not to –
do not start.’ This was the commencement of a long talk between us, the gist of
which was that most of the men present were jaded business men, whose wives
were too busy with their social duies, too tired from an afternoon of auction
bridge to try to amuse their husbands in the evening, with the result that they
sought it elsewhere. ‘And,’ he concluded, ‘these girls whom you see here tonight,
know that the majority of these men are married, and that they are playing with
fire, but they come of their own free will, just as you did. The consequences
must be borne by themselves.’ When the party broke up at a late hour, we were
driven home in a car, and that was the last I saw of Mr. Gow, until my next
visit, a short time later.
Again we met him and
again we went to his home, where practically the same people were again, and on
my last visit, but a short time ago, we again visited him.
Now, in all my three
visits, everything which took place was perfectly proper, unconventional – yes
– but the same form of entertainment takes place every night in the cabarets
and cafes in the city in which my home is, and, as Mr. Gow said at one time
when I asked why he did this sort of thing. ‘I am only a lonesome old man,
seeking forgetfulness.’ That’s what anyone in trouble does, but some have
different and far worse methods.
In conventional
social circles here, I have met some of your gilded society youths who showed
me far less respect than the dead man – even though I met them through their
equals – and I would say to Deputy Chief Whatley and his morality squad, that
if he and they would patrol the Dundas and Ancaster roads occasionally, many a
young girl might be saved from ruin by these same young men, whose fathers,
owners of cars, let their sons have use of them at night. Then, with liquor
usually stored in the tonneau, they take some innocent little girl along with
them for a spin, and is she refuses to listen and accede to their insulting
proposals, and is she can fight them off in defense of her honor, she is left
to walk back to her home – a sadder and wiser little girl. You can see these
fellows every night in the week on your principal streets, picking up girls of
sixteen and seventeen years, and the sequel is already told.
In conclusion, I have
only to say that I know that Mr. Gow has befriended more than one girl – and I
know also that more than one will miss his jovial smile.
For my part, I can
only ask that God will have mercy on the soul of one of the most perfect
gentlemen I have ever met.
Thanking you, Mr.
Editor, I am yours sincerely,
MANHATTAN.”1
1 Victim’s
Girl Friend Tells Inside Story : Lonesome Old Man Opened Heart to Her : Left
Everything to His Wife and Daughter”
Hamilton Spectator.
March 23, 1914.
Unsurprisingly, Manhattan’s’
letter to the Spectator provoked much reaction :
“Already the Spectator is in receipt of a
number of letters which take exception to the girl’s attitude in excusing Gow
because he was ‘just a lonely old man, seeking forgetfulness,’ as he described
it himself.”1
1 “Woman
Writes in Defense of Deputy Chief : Commends Him For Activity in Interest of
Morals : Takes Exception to Attitude of Gow’s Defender : No Sympathy for Girls
Who Entertain Married Men.”
Hamilton Spectator.
March 25, 1914.
One of the letter’s
was published in full :
“To the Editor, -
Would you kindly allow me a space in your valuable paper to answer a letter I
noticed in your columns by one Manhattan, who wrote in defense of one who had
been a friend to her. Of course, it is right and proper for us to speak of
people as we find them, but it seems to my way of thinking, going a little too
far, when we speak of man as ‘the most perfect gentleman,’ as of a man who had
faults like the rest of us.
“I do not think any
perfect gentleman would allow such a thing to happen in his own home as your
Manhattan admits to taking part in. And I do not think it is any credit to her
to admit being one of such a party on different occasions.
“One who takes her standard of
gentlemen from men who participate in such things is, to my way of thinking,
hardly a competent judge of such matters.
“A man who is a gentleman would
protect his fellow men from all harm to the best of his ability. I do not
sympathize with girls who help entertain married men when they knew they were
married, and fathers perhaps.
“She also speaks of
men being neglected by their society-loving wives. I wonder in how many cases
that is true. But even so, does a man, a husband and father himself, need to go
out and court forgetfulness in that way? Is he so selfish as to profit from
some other man’s daughter’s ruin, or allow her to risk her good name?
“She speaks of two
very young girls and of the falsehoods they told to their parents to get there.
Does she think it right of any man or woman to harbor children in their homes
like that? She says the girls were all supposed to know they went on their own
responsibility. Does she not think it more fitting for a father to keep temptation
out of children’s way?
“I really do think,
Manhattan, you show very bad taste for a stranger to visit our city, and then
cast slurs on Deputy Chief Whatley and his men. He is just a man trying to
clean up a bit, where he sees it it is so badly needed. He sees where his duty
lies and is man enough to do it.
“About the Ancaster
and Dundas roads, quite true, no doubt, but all in good time. No doubt, when a
few of them are caught, they will write to him and tell him ‘he is on the wrong
track and that it would pay him better to look after a few houses where married
men are allowed to entertain young girls and leave the single fellows alone.’
“I am a young girl
myself, about your age, but happily married now. And it seems very pitiful to me
to go uptown and see girls I knew at school with good parents, ordinary working
people some of them, dressed very fashionable, oh so different to their mothers
and to what they themselves used to be, although they never seem to work, and I
really think some of them need a shock of some sort to wake them up to the
perilous path they seem to be pursuing. A good time seems to sum up everything
for them.
“Thanking you for
your space, I remain,
A BOOSTER FOR THE DEPUTY.1