Recently, I had an email from the nice folks over at Media Profile, who have sent me a release saying that public documents from the histories of the Molson and Labatt families are now available online as part of a promotion for Ancestry.ca. This is no time to pause and consider whether what is clearly a PR grab for a typically non-beer related site is actually newsworthy, especially when I’ve been taken up by enthusiasm for researching my own family tree and comparing the historic arcs of the Molsons, Labatts and St.Johns.
While some of the documents released are not particularly interesting in and of themselves (John S. Labatt once managed to travel to Buffalo, which is a revelation on par with the fact that he once got a newspaper delivered) some of the documents are downright fascinating.
Just for reference, I should point out that the St.Johns have a long and storied past. You name a European country, and I can guarantee you that we were on our way out of it just steps ahead of the tax collectors. Over the years we were French (fled because we were Huguenots), Swiss (left after a particularly nasty confrontation with a clockmaker), German (persecuted because we never mastered the umlaut) and Irish. The earliest record of the St.Johns in Canada is from Uxbridge, Ontario before the Irish Potato Famine. It never even made the hit parade.
That early ancestor managed to personally clear 100 acres of virgin forest during his lifetime, stopping only to sharpen his axe, darn his socks and calculate his carbon footprint. It was a hard life. There were wolves everywhere; At the drop of a hat there were wolves in the hat. My great great great great Uncle “King” Philip St.John was called that because he had the largest wagon in the county (that’s what she said). During the rebellion in Upper Canada, he raised a troop of about a hundred militia to put down the rebels. I don’t know if they ever saw action, but you can bet that they got blisters walking from Uxbridge.
The Labatt family has similarly interesting history. Sophie Labatt perished tragically at the age of 55 from an accidental poisoning. This leaves us with a great deal of speculation as to the exact nature of the tragedy and a reminder not to confuse the sugar and arsenic canisters in your pantry.
John S. Labatt, grandson of the founder of the brewery was kidnapped in 1934 by an employee of his own brewery. It seems that the kidnapping was originally meant to be a hoax for a publicity stunt in order to call attention to the brewery. Unfortunately, the Labatt family wasn’t in on it and the kidnapper, Russell Knowles, subsequently received a fifteen year sentence for his troubles. Apparently it’s only a joke until you ask for five million dollars.
My great uncle Rufus T. St.John was kidnapped as a seven year old. They sent one of his fingers in the mail to prove that they were serious, but it was returned postage due. His father paid the kidnappers twenty dollars to keep him, but was disappointed when little Rufus showed up on his doorstep the next day without so much as a scratch.
Harry Markland Molson perished in the tragic sinking of the Titanic in 1912. According to legend, he was last seen removing his shoes to swim towards a boat he saw off in the distance. I’m sure there’s a joke in here somewhere about Molson’s being cold and watery, but I don’t have a lawyer on retainer. Ironically, my great aunt Floe once had a summer internship as an iceberg (which is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard).
Lastly, the documents published by Ancestry.ca list Percival Talbot Molson’s attestation papers and military record. There are a number of things that we can learn from this, not the least of which is that if you have enough money on hand no one will laugh at you if your name is Percival. Seeing as he perished in the first world war, I’m not sure that I feel comfortable taking too many cheap shots at him. After all, anyone who’s willing to risk death and trench foot in order to fight the Kaiser is OK with me. We owe him one for that business with the umlaut.