Media Exhibits
William
Cousins, pioneer, businessman, entrepreneur, author and early mayor
of Medicine Hat came west with the advent of the railway.
Bent on establishing a store in Calgary he purchased his stock in
Winnipeg in the spring of 1882 and began to make his way west.
Although the railway was officially completed to Swift Current, it
took several days and multiple bribes to get his boxcar/ living
quarters to within twelve mile of Maple Creek where the line ended. He then walked into town and persuaded a group
of teamsters with an inducement of free local beer and cigars to
bring his outfit into Maple Creek. The teamsters took
only the cigars as they knew the beer was bad. Cousins
didn’t and regretted drinking it for many years after. Jules Quesnelle was then hired with his teams of covered wagons to make
the trek to Calgary. Several days and multiple adventures later
they reached the top of what is now Porters Hill to behold Medicine
Hat, “A Glorious sight- the trees on the
banks of the Ross and Seven Persons Creek were just coming out
in leaf and looked good to us after our long journey over the bald
prairie."
Later that day Quesnelle told Cousins that he didn’t trust the ferry crossing the river and if he wanted to go to Calgary he would have to find someone else. Cousins agreed as he was now broke and didn’t have the money to pay him anyway. That night after he set his store up in a tent, he received his “first and best customer” .
From “Old Timer Tells. . . .” by William Cousins Lethbridge Herald, February 8, 1938
He didn’t look like what I wanted at the moment. The revolver he had at his hip engaged my attention. I didn’t know if it was going to be a sale or a shot. If it was a sale of any size I could eat. If it was a shot I was up in the air as to where I could duck. However, he began the conversation that ensued.
He said, “This is quite a store you have kid. Is it by any chance a branch of John Wanamaker’s? (a big New York retailer). I said “No, it is not. I don’t know Wanamaker.” Then he said, “That’s a big pile of ready-to-wear suits you have. Do you suppose I could get a fit out of that lot?”
I had never sold a suit of clothes in my life. Didn’t know if a man should try on a perfect thirty-six or a fifty-six. I was a grocer, and knew nothing about suits or ladies unmentionables, hardly knew the difference between a buck-saw and a tack hammer. However I said, “Look them over and try one on.” We tore into the pile, and he got hold of a suit that he liked the looks of and said, “Where can I try this on?” I said, “Over there by that stock of flour.” He was quite a time it seemed to me before he said, “Throw me in a suit of heavy underwear and a pair of socks, I’m pretty crummy.”
I soon found out why the delay. He had to take off chaps, top-boots, his armour and other things. When he came into view again he was a different man. He was trying to see what the coat looked like from behind, and running his hands fondly over the sleeves. All of which took his attention off the pants. They came half way down over his boot tops. Finally he said, “That’s good cloth. How does it fit behind?” If I had been in my right mind I would have laughed for he was a sight. I just said “It’s all right”. Then he wanted a hat and some other things that I could not find if we had them. Up to this point there had never been any reference to price, he just said, “How much do I owe you?” I figured it at $39.50. He pulled out a roll that made me wonder how there come to be so much money in one place, gave me the exact amount – I couldn’t have made the change, and took a seat on the head of a barrel of sugar. He pulled his feet under him like all cowboys do when wanting a rest and I asked him to have a cigar.
When he got it lighted he said, “You didn’t
steal this plunder you have here in Ontario, did you?”
My indignant reply was, “No, I bought and paid for them in
Winnipeg.” “Well, don’t be a damn fool. You are
cutting your profit too close, I would have had to pay fifty dollars
for this layout in Macleod. Get wise or you’ll go broke.”
A few days after this we were putting things in store shape when we heard shouting and shots, ran out and saw a band of what we took to be cowboys on horseback firing their revolvers in the air. At the head of the bunch was my first customer. After they got by we ran over to the Cosmopolitan hotel where Casey, the proprietor was standing. He told us they were the horse thieves and whisky smugglers from Montana. They had a camp on Seven Persons Creek where you could buy “Montana rot gut” for five dollars a quart, and if you took an over-dose it was almost certain death. The name of the leader was Bill Perdue, otherwise Cracker Box Bill, a notorious killer from the United States.
Cracker box came into our tent the next day followed by four others. The first words he used were, “Boys this store-keeper stole this layout in Ontario and is selling cheaper than the other stores. He isn’t a bad guy to deal with just a little tender in the feet at present”.
We didn’t see him again for nearly a week, when he walked in alone and taking a big roll of bills out of his pocket said, “Here put this in your safe I want you to be my banker”. Not liking the idea I said, “We have no safe, why don’t you keep it yourself.” His reply was, “I got to get some sleep don’t I? If I go to sleep with those robbers all around me I might get short changed. Don’t be a fool, dig a hole under that barrel of sugar and put this roll in it. No one but you and me will know it’s there.” I still disliked the proposition and said, “I have to sleep myself sometimes too, and I won’t be responsible for your money if someone comes and wants it.” “That’s all right. I’ll see that you get your sleep. You will be as well taken care of as if you were my own child.”
I took his money, but did not hide it under that barrel. I had what I thought was a better place where I kept our own money, which was growing from the sale of the goods we had. Cracker Box use to come in and ask me to let him have a few dollars as he had got the short end of the poker game the night before. He kept drawing out and depositing. I never counted Bill’s roll, never knew how much there was in it. I was just as free and easy about my system of banking as they tell us the big shots are today. I had no charter from either government provincial or dominion didn’t need such to run my bank in those good old days.
One day Cracker Box came in and said, “Give me what is left of that roll. I am going to Calgary to set up a tent poolroom where the boys can play and get all the Montana whiskey they can pay for at reasonable prices. He did do as he said he would until the North West Mounted Police got his record from Montana. He left one dark night for parts unknown. The police who always get their man found him in Prince Albert and were taking him to Regina for trial. I never saw him again. He was my first and best customer, not only buying for himself but telling the world what a good place he had found, where they are having an every day bargain sale.
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