The Great Canine Purge of 1987, Part 1

Havelock. June 1987. 3 German Shepards. 7 Elderly Ladies. 1 day. No survivors.

Few people know this about Havelock, Ontario, but it is the only[1] town in Ontario that dogs of any kind have been banned there for almost 20 years. You may think to yourself, “Wow, I didn’t realize that a town in Ontario could ban all dogs.” You would be wrong. The details of the events here are pieced together from the eye witness accounts of 4 Havelock residents.

For those of you who have never been to Havelock, there’s not much there to see. But if you live in Havelock, you are quite familiar with two things: The Hotel Havelock, and the Ball Diamond. Both of which were contributing factors in this debacle.

First off, The Hotel Havelock (or known locally as ‘The Hotel’) was the only place in Havelock to go and have drink and perhaps enjoy (term used loosely here) a band (likely ‘The Swamp Band’). Historically, it was the only stop between Toronto and Ottawa on the rail line where you could get hooch, so naturally it became the place of legend, spawning nightly bar fights, drunken snowmobiling, and later on it was the largest source of cougars in the area. In 2004, it was demolished because it would cost more to un-condemn[2] it than turn it into a parking lot.

Secondly, the ball diamond (or ‘the park’) was located in the middle of town adjacent to the old age home next to the rink. In the summer, every weekend there would be slow pitch tournaments, and during the week there would be regular league games. There was a little refreshment stand that sold pop and candy to all the kids that would come to the games. Pretty much everybody in town was involved with the park in some way, whether it was playing ball, coming to watch ball, or working at the rink. The important information to know about the park is that it is next to the old age home.

Now that you have a little information about the area, let’s get down to brass tacks. In June 1987, a trapper named Tom Wilkins from Northern Ontario came to town with his 3 German Shepards in his half-ton. Naturally, the first stop was the hotel. According to “Big” Tom (as he was known, not for his weight, but for the 6-pound benign tumor on his neck), his dogs were the alcoholics, not himself, and since they were good hunting dogs, he let them drink as much as they wanted.

Big Tom’s tumor was really hurting him. As was the solution for most of his problems, Big Tom drank to make the pain go away, but because it was a remarkably wet and cold June, it took more Cordova Toilet Booze than usual. And those who know Big Tom know that when Big Tom drinks, his dogs drink, so they got just as hammered as he did. But after Tom passed out in the ‘executive bathroom’ (the coat room), his dogs weren’t ready to call it an afternoon. They left the hotel looking for any unattended trash cans in which to rummage.

Eventually, the dogs made it down to the park (oddly enough, not on a ball day). The infield had just been graded, so they spent most of the afternoon rolling around in the dirt. Four ladies from the old age home were out playing bridge in the court yard when they saw the dogs playfully rolling around in the nicely groomed ball diamond. Their sense of town pride perked up and they didn’t want the dogs messing up the prize winning infield, so they went over to shoo the dogs away (their canes can be enticing).

Well, needless to say, alcoholic German Shepards don’t take nicely to being told what to do. They immediately stopped playing and turned to growl at the ladies. Before the bridge club could get out of the diamond, two of the dogs raced over to block the only exits: the dugouts. Scared, trapped, and a little gassy, the ladies panicked as the largest dog slowly approached them. One of the ladies tried to make a run for it by pushing over another lady and bolting for the right field fence. The dog ignored the ‘easy kill’ on the ground and chased her into the right field grass. He caught up with her 15 feet from the fence and made quick work of her. After all, he was a good hunting dog.

Stayed tuned for Part 2!!

[1] Technically, Marmora also instituted a complete canine ban in solidarity with the families torn apart (don’t mind the pun) by the June 1987 massacre. However, by January 1988, they realized that if they ban dogs, they can’t have the sled dog races anymore, so they quickly rescinded then ban.

[2] A friend of mine who’s dad was an electrician told me a story of the time he and his dad went into the basement of the Hotel to fix some wiring. On the way down the stairs, he looked to his right and saw sitting on the shelf a perfect rat skeleton in mid stride. It had apparently died there some time before and through the shear creepiness of the building, it was perfectly preserved for eternity.