Caught in the Act – Almost!

It’s a little known fact that Blyth once harboured a gang of gun-slinging desperadoes. Daily gun battles took place in the back streets, the church sheds, sometimes even on main street. Many households in the village were guilty of harbouring these unconvicted mobsters. Why, they even provided funds to support their wicked ways.

I have never publicly admitted this before, but now that I am getting close to 75 years of age, it’s time to lift this terrible burden from - well, maybe not from my chest, but from my trigger finger. Yes, I was one of them. I was almost caught, but through my natural ability to think on my feet, I managed to avoid arrest.

This took place in the early 1940s. The weapon of choice among these gangsters was the cap gun. The ammunition was rolls of red caps that fit into the cap gun. Each time you pulled the trigger, the hammer would hit a little black circle of explosive, producing a bang remotely similar to that coming from a small hand gun, but not nearly as loud. These cap guns could be purchased at the “five and dime” in Wingham, and the caps could be purchased locally in a couple of stores.

Then the cap guns were banned.

I’m not sure how or why the ban took place, but word got out that the firing of cap guns was not to be tolerated in Blyth. There was no public announcement of this, as far as I know, and no by-law passed by the village council. It was a word of mouth intimation which was a tried and true small town broadcast technique for spreading rumours, good and bad news, as well as rules of behaviour and decorum.

The boys of the village took the message with a grain of salt. The lure of the crackle of cap gunfire was too strong to make them want to lay down their arms. What they did was conceal their weapons whenever the police constable was close by, and go elsewhere to wage their battles.

As with the gunslingers in the western movies, I became vulnerable when I ran out of ammunition. I headed for the store which sold the ammo. I was about to ask for a roll of caps, when I happened to notice, sitting on a low chair behind the counter to my left, Constable John Cowan. I could see only the top half of his face and his eyes were looking straight at me. I felt the blood rushing to my face. The storekeeper was also staring at me, waiting for me to say what I wanted. I was mulling over my options. What I really wanted to do was disappear both physically and from the memory of the people staring at me. No, disappearance was not an option.

I spoke.

“An eraser,” I said. “I want a Pink Pearl Eraser.” I added the last phrase, cleverly giving the impression that this purchase had been carefully thought through hours ago , and the decision was made that not just any eraser would meet my needs. It had to be a Pink Pearl.

I got the eraser, I gave my dime, I got the nickel change and I got out of there, taking only a moment to glance in the direction of the Policeman. I could tell by the hint of a smile on his face that he had no idea of what my real intentions were.