The following is a re-print of a past column by former Advertiser columnist Stephen Thorning, who passed away on Feb. 23, 2015.
Some text has been updated to reflect changes since the original publication and any images used may not be the same as those that accompanied the original publication.
On the afternoon of June 19, 1908, a Guelph constable, on foot patrol in the downtown area of the Royal City, spotted a man picking the pocket of another pedestrian.
The officer moved quickly and arrested the suspect, who gave his name as Frank Jefferson.
Another man, obviously working with Jefferson, quickly realized that the police were onto them, and took flight, disappearing into a store. The constable held Jefferson firmly by the arm as he took him to the city lockup to wait for an appearance before a magistrate.
The story made the front page of both Guelph newspapers, the Herald and the Mercury, the following day and other newspapers picked it up from the wire service. In Toronto, a man named W.H. Welsh read the story.
He was no ordinary reader. Welsh was the head of a private agency, the Canadian Detective Bureau Limited.
From the description of Jefferson he was certain that the Guelph force had inadvertently captured one of the most notorious criminals in the United States.
Jefferson, it appeared, was only one of several monikers used by the arrested man. He was known to police elsewhere as Frank Smith, “Big Schmitty,” and Frank Wilson, among others.
Welsh immediately contacted the Guelph police chief, who sent him a photograph of the suspect by special delivery.
The photograph seemed to match one that Welsh had in his files, and which had also been published several times in The Detective, a magazine directed at police and private investigators. It was sufficiently convincing for Welsh that he hopped on the next train to Guelph, and headed immediately to the jail on his arrival.
When he left the Guelph jail, several reporters met Welsh on the sidewalk outside. He told them that he had no doubt as to the identity of the suspect. Welsh said that the man inside matched the detailed description and photograph of the American fugitive that had been widely circulated.
It appeared that “Jefferson,” as he called himself in Guelph, was in Canada to cool his heels for a time, and was travelling with some partners in crime. They, evidently, made themselves scarce after Jefferson’s arrest.
Although he was a private investigator, W.H. “Billy” Welsh also had a position as the chief detective of the North West Mounted Police, as the RCMP was then known. His name and exploits were known to most police officers in Ontario.
He had 25 years of experience investigating the most notorious criminals. Welsh was a very clever man, with a superb memory and a practical knowledge of psychology. He represented the new breed of police investigator, solving cases by logic and careful investigation rather than the “knuckles and know-how” that had previously characterized much police work.
His work had earned him some newspaper articles, making him something of a folk hero.
Welsh told the Guelph reporters that Jefferson was best known as “Big Smithy” in the United States, and had a record dating back more than a decade and covering many states in the Union.
Welsh said that he was one of the cleverest criminals he had seen in his career. He had escaped conviction many times, and he usually travelled in company with other clever criminals.
When he came to Guelph Welsh brought with him several back issues of The Detective that contained photographs of criminals known to be travelling with Jefferson, or who had been known to associate with him. Welsh hoped that he and the Guelph force might be able to snare more men on the “wanted” list.
After discussing the case with the arresting constable and other officers who had worked on the case, Welsh identified the companion that got away as “Big Ed” Taylor, a desperate character who frequently worked with Jefferson.
Apparently, while in the store Taylor had donned a disguise he carried with him, and then had walked out of the store nonchalantly a few minutes later.
Jefferson had admitted to Welsh that he had used other names over the years. He acted cool during the interview, denying nothing. Welsh, though, took no chances. He began lining up people in the United States who could identify Jefferson should he later need to bolster the case for the prosecution in court.
Welsh was happy to cooperate with reporters in revealing the record of the suspect.
That arrest record began eight years before, in Helena, Montana, where police picked him up for picking pockets. At that point he was already working as part of a gang. They numbered a half dozen, and most had nicknames that seem to have been copied from a cheap crime novel: “The Gorilla,” “The O.K. Kid,” “The Jonah,” among others.
All eventually built up lengthy police records. They had worked together at times, and also singly and in various combinations. None appeared to be violent. Their crimes were not major ones, but their clever methods, ability to evade the police, and open mockery of authority had gotten under the skin of police forces all over the continent.
Jefferson, as he was known in Guelph, was arrested in Kansas City in 1903, for picking pockets. To the dismay of police there, he received only a fine of $25. At that point he was working under the name of Frank Smith.
Two years later he found himself in the hoosegow at Wheeling, West Virginia. He had been known in that area as “Big Schmitty.” “Big Ed” Taylor, the suspect who had escaped capture in Guelph, was with him at that time, with James Daly, alias “Little Albany,” and Sam Sinclair, alias “Samuel of Posen.” Due to conflicting and confused testimony, the members of the gang escaped conviction in the Wheeling court.
Welsh urged editors to publish a photo of Jefferson, along with a detailed description. He suspected that his prisoner was implicated in many other crimes, and he wished to put together a convincing case in court.
Jefferson at the time was 36, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was also a stocky man, five-foot-nine-inches tall, and tipping the scales at 215 pounds. To the embarrassment of the Oddfellows order, he had I.O.O.F. and the order’s insignia tattooed on his arm.
It appears that the dragnet laid out by Billy Welsh caught no other fish, and no conclusive leads emerged to link the suspect with other crimes.
Jefferson, though, received no mercy from the Guelph jury and judge. They awarded him a three-year holiday in the Kingston penitentiary.
There is little doubt that the publicity attached to the case, and the involvement of Welsh, were prime factors in the sentencing.
The Guelph case was only one of many for Billy Welsh in 1908, and a minor one in his career.
After leaving Guelph he solved a $300,000 jewelry swindle and theft case in Dawson City. That earned him a feature story in the Chicago American, in which he was characterized as “The Dominion’s Leading Detective.”
Most of the other newspapers in the Hearst chain picked up the story, making him one of the best known Canadians in the fall of 1908.
*This column was originally published in the Wellington Advertiser on Dec. 16, 2011.
