"Buying In" the Straubenzee - an Old Bit of Waterfront Wit: Schooner Days CCCXVII (317)

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TORONTO BAY WAS FULL OF ICE BOATS WHEN THE STRAUBENZEE WAS BOUGHT - AND WHEN SHE SAILED ON GAFFTOPSAILS OR COMPASS.

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"Did I ever tell you how I came to get into Straubenzee?" The questioner was Capt. John Williams, master of many ships, from stonehooker scows to 500-foot steel freighters.

"Peter Arnot, of Medlar and Arnot's shipyard at the foot of Berkeley street, came to me one day at the end of the winter of '92, and said: 'Johnny, the Sir C. T. Van Straubenzee is going to be put up for sale, and we want you to buy her for us and for yourself.

"Why?"

"Well, so-and-so did us out of $1,200 in the Guelph, and we don't think he ought to get a chance at picking the Straubenzee up cheap."

"I've more than I can look after now," said I, "what with pieces of the W. Y. Emery and the Speedwell, and just getting out of the Greenwood. Sailing and managing one vessel is enough for one man."

"But you're worth two men, and you know it."

"I'll talk to Mrs. Williams."

" 'You'll do no such thing. You promise me now that you'll turn up to-morrow morning" at Henderson's and buy her for us.'

"Peter had done me many a good turn and I could not hold out. The Straubenzee was a full canal sized schooner, built at Shickluna's yard at St. Catharines eighteen years before. She had had lots of grief, getting ashore in Lake Superior during the C.P.R. construction, and lying one winter in a corner ever since known as Straubenzee bay. After that she was used in towing, and her outfit was pretty well run down, and there she was, heavily in debt, with wages against her long overdue, and that was why she was being sold. She was really a fine strong vessel, just in need of kind treatment.

"Next morning after a talk with my brother, Davey, I looked into the Leader saloon, in the way of business, you understand. There were a lot of waterfront folk there, captains and vessel owners, all on the same errand as myself, and all trying to look unconscious of it.

"Capt. Dolph Corson was there, and old Capt. Coutts of Oakville and Capt. Bob Heeney of Port Hope. He had a big wad and he lined eighteen of the boys up and treated them. I wasn't having any.

"I hear," says one of them over the frothy top of his glass, "I hear the Straubenzee is going to be put up at auction."

"Is that so?" says I.

"It is that," says he. "Would you be bidding on her now if she was?" "I might," says I. "Why not?"

"Well see here, Capt. Johnny Williams," says he, showing a roll of bills as thick as a handspike. "We've decided to buy her in and let Capt. Ben Tripp have her to sail, after being in her all these years. Let me tell you, you'll never get her."

"Maybe not," says I, and drifted out and up to Henderson's auction rooms on Adelaide street east. M. T. Brown, manager of he Western Ontario Coal Co., was there. I asked him if he wanted to buy her for Tripp to sail, and he said no. "Any objections to anybody else buying her?" I asked, and he said "no" again.

Auctioneer Charley Henderson cleared his throat and read the terms and the bidding started. Not brisk at all, for the schooner had a hard-luck name and my friends with the roll weren't unwrapping it so long as I kept out of the picture. Bob Heeney started the bidding and J. T. Mathews raised him $10. J. T. almost controlled the Toronto coal carrying trade at that time. It was hinted that the man who got the Straubenzee against his will would never get a pound of coal to carry.

After the first bidding hung fire a voice from the back piped up a moderate raise. I hadn't opened my mouth, but I did at what I saw, though no words came. The bid was from my own brother Davey but I didn't know him. He had on an old fur coat and earlapped cap like the farmers used to wear, and he had a leather whip under his arm. He had brushed up against a load of hay at the market, and was chewing a straw. There were a few more bids, but the boys with the big roll weren't interested as long as I made no offer. Perhaps they figured this farmer chap would have to have a captain to sail the schooner anyway, and their pal would be left in her as before, with someone else to pay her bills. I heard afterwards the man they had got to do their bidding was afraid of the price or of Mathews' bid. Davey's raise bluffed him and he couldn't get a chance to consult with his crowd.

I had arranged with Davey to cease bidding if I got up to go out, in case the price ran beyond what I had fixed in my own mind, but "going, going, GONE" at $3,960 came quickly and the auctioneer said: "I don't think I know the name of this gentleman."

"A. D. Williams," said Davey in a meek voice.

"Who's the rube?" asked my friends with the roll.

"Looks to me like one of those grainbuyers from the east shore of Lake Huron," said one.

"You'll know the name a great deal better shortly," said old Jim Mathews.

We had the Straubenzee on our hands, and $3,960 to make up. M. T. Brown said he'd take a third, and when could I start for a load of coal from Charlotte? I said right away, only make it five loads. The freights on five or six loads would pretty well cover another third of the price —the share I'd decided to take for myself. And Medlar and Arnot took the other third.

And so the Straubenzee became ours, and I sailed her for myself and the shipyard people and Mr. Brown. Davey went in the Speedwell, and I sold my other shares. The first trip I made with the Straubenzee the ice was still in Toronto Bay when I left, and she had no compass, no gafftopsails, and no flying jib. It was a big risk to take a vessel out like that, but I got down to Charlotte, loaded coal, and came up on an east blow without mishap. We had to lie under the lee of the island till the ice cleared enough to let us into the dock."