"Damned If I'll Resign!"

"Damned If I'll Resign!"

Eight deceptive weeks of peace & quiet in Newfoundland fooled Governor and Commander-in-Chief Sir John Middleton into thinking he could safely leave the Dominion last week and sail home for London's smart spring "season." Sir John's valet had packed his things. His secretary had booked him the best cabin on a boat sailing shortly from St. John's.* Over the teacups at Buckingham Palace candid Sir John would answer King George's queries about the rioting of Newfoundland's jobless (TIME, Feb. 22). If His Majesty, who goes deeply into such things, should ask whether a picture of His Majesty was actually broken over the head of Premier Sir Richard Squires by the mob, Sir John would tell His Majesty the truth. Suddenly last week as Governor Sir John prepared to sail. St. John's came again under the sceptre of King Mob.

There was no mob to begin with, just a decent, orderly procession of substantial Newfoundland folk. Marshaled by a Catholic priest and two Protestant clerics they tramped through the streets of St. John's to the Colonial Building (Parliament House), begged leave to present a petition at the bar of Parliament humbly alleging that Premier Sir Richard Squires had been guilty of malfeasance and had falsified the Executive Council's minutes -- two charges made in the Assembly by former Finance Minister Peter Cashin when he resigned a week before the February riots. In 1925 and again in 1926 Sir Richard Squires was convicted and fined for making improper income tax returns. Nevertheless he became Premier a second time in 1928, has clung tightly to the job ever since. Last week, thinking to spare Sir Richard further trouble. Inspector General Hutchings of the Newfoundland constabulary ordered his men to disperse the humble petitioners--an order which turned them instantly into an ugly mob.

Paving stones whistled. Brickbats flew. As throwers improved their aim, window after window of the Colonial Building splintered into tinkling bits. Lady Squires, the Premier's wife and Newfoundland's only female Parliament member, was deeply gashed, was led bleeding from the hall. The mob burst in through the Strangers' Gallery, seized all entrances and set up shouts of "Squires! Squires! Hang him! Throw him in the harbor! Where's Squires?"

Squires was in his rooms--protected by the three clergymen whose parade, to their infinite distress, had become a riot. As the mob raged nearer & nearer to the Premier's rooms Father John Pippy took command, arranged a back-door escape for the Premier after whispering among mobsmen in that quarter. Out front, Newfoundlanders were dancing on the Government's piano, dancing it to smithereens and pocketing piano keys "as souvenirs." For an escape the instant seemed propitious to Father Pippy and to potent John Power, a burly fisherman who had agreed to help.

"Don't you worry, Father John!" cried John Power, but Premier Squires did worry. He took off his gold ring and pressed it upon John Power for keeps. Out the back door they stole, but Sir Richard was recognized and not even John Power could keep the mobsmen back. They knocked their Premier down. Father Pippy flung himself upon Sir Richard to protect him. John Power battled, snorted and swore dreadful sea oaths. The tide at last was turned by the two Protestant clerics. Rev. C. Johnson and Rev. W. Godfrey. Hopping up & down and shouting their loudest, they begged the mob to let Sir Richard up and let him pass, promised all manner of things in the heat of their fervent persuasion--which worked.

As the rioters fell back, up jumped Father Pippy. Premier Squires, rising badly bruised from the bottom of the heap, was rushed to a secret cellar, disappeared from the Newfoundland scene for 24 hours. The mob, though they had let their quarry escape, made a thorough job of smashing all the Colonial Building windows, battering doors and desks to splinters and scattering State papers by the armful in the street. Solemn, impassioned promises by highly respected citizens that Premier Sir Richard Squires would positively resign or call a Newfoundland election within 48 hours finally got the smashers out of the building. But they rushed directly to two of St. John's State liquor stores, burst them open, stole every bottle and spent a night of bemused swizzling during which nobody was injured.

Next night Premier Sir Richard Squires was back at his badly damaged desk. Said he: "Damned if I'll resign!" But up at Government House the valet of Governor and Commander-in-Chief Sir John Middleton had regretfully unpacked his things. The Governor's secretary had canceled his passage to England.

"I shall appoint a Royal Commission," announced Sir John, "to inquire into certain occurrences."

Patriotic Newfoundlanders flayed "foreign correspondents" for having cabled "exaggerated reports." But there had undoubtedly been "certain occurrences." In London the Tory Evening Standard, close to the British Admiralty, announced that a British warship had been ordered to St. John's. Newfoundland War veterans, who pitched in and helped the St. John's police restore order, were publicly thanked in the King's name.

When civic leaders called on the Governor to ask if he had really sent for a British warship, Sir John ripped out this reply (according to indignant members of the committee): "No, I have not ordered a warship, but it is my prerogative to order a squadron if necessary and order them to blow you all to hell."

*To differentiate, the Province of New Brunswick (Canada) has elected and emphasized that its chief town shall be styled Saint John.

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