A Great Game (21 page)

As Kenora and Montreal haggled over the terms of their encounter—including controversial questions of player eligibility—Wanderer manager Tom Hodge came through Toronto to meet with Alex Miln. It was said that Hodge wanted his team to play at Mutual in order to prepare for the real possibility the Cup games could be held on the small Kenora rink. It was also rumoured that Miln had paid up to $900 for the honour. Whatever the reason, a date was set for March 11.

In the star-studded Wanderer lineup that night was “Hod” Stuart, widely considered the greatest player of the day. Stuart, who also played football, had left Ottawa and performed in the Western Pennsylvania and International leagues before ending up with the Wanderers. Stuart was the Bobby Orr of his era. Big, fast and rough, he dominated the game not just through superior skill, but by quarterbacking the offence from his own end forward. Playing that night with a broken finger, Stuart led the Redbands to an easy 4–1 lead before retiring early.

From there on, the game got tight. Though much smaller than their Montreal opponents, the Torontos, led by the determined Ridpath, threw themselves at the Wanderers with a fury. Riddy brought the crowd to its feet by decking the lanky Lester Patrick with a hard check. The game was quick, tough and intense throughout.

While generally clean as well, the contest also featured a notable fight. Wanderer Ernie “Moose” Johnson had given Hughie Lambe what his defence partner, Rolly Young, considered a cheap shot. Young went after Johnson, and several others joined in. During the excitement, one overwrought fan hurled his seat onto the ice surface. He was arrested, but, when later ascertained to be a Toronto supporter, he was promptly released.

The Torontos recovered from their early-game jitters to become increasingly confident. With eight minutes left, the Professionals had pulled ahead 9–8. However, having let the game completely open up, they could not keep pace with the Wanderers' offence and eventually fell
away by a count of 12–10. Charlie Liffiton, eager to show the Montrealers he still had it, was the best Toronto player, with five goals. But Ernie Russell, with an incredible nine for the Redbands, had sunk the local team.

There were differing opinions on what the game said about the Queen City club. Strengthened by Berlin forward Ezra Dumart, no one doubted that the Torontos had played well. Conversely, analysts pointed to Wanderer injuries, the soft ice, the small surface and an off night by Montreal goalie William Milton “Riley” Hern to suggest the visitors had perhaps done just enough to win. Subsequent events indicate that, in truth, the local pros were not that bad a team.

By the time the Wanderers arrived in Toronto, the OHA stomping grounds, amateur hockey's last bastion, had become home to no fewer than five professional hockey clubs. The latest was out of Belleville, still smarting from the Reddy McMillan fiasco. Guelph and Berlin were
clearly the strongest, so that is where the Montreal gang headed next on their road trip.

The other Ontario pro games bore a strong resemblance to the Toronto affair. In Guelph, the visitors from Montreal had to come from behind to beat the Royals 5–3. In Berlin, however, they could not pull off the same feat for a third time and were edged out 9–8 by the Dutchmen.

It all proved a good warmup for the Wanderers. They took the Stanley Cup back from the Thistles less than two weeks later.

These games had shown, in a nutshell, that the new Ontario professional teams could hold their own against the club that reigned as champions of the Dominion. The message they took from it was undeniable: they might themselves challenge for the Stanley Cup.

All things considered, the first professional hockey season in Toronto had been a fair success. The Professionals probably did not make money, and their record was only 2–5–1, but they had become the club of choice for a good chunk of local fans. As far as the city's dreams of a first Stanley Cup were concerned, the Torontos were also the only choice.

To make this go, however, Miln needed more than a handful of exhibition games at Mutual. Next year, his Toronto Professionals would have to be in a league, for which he already had a franchise. But, the best-laid plans notwithstanding, that league would not be the International Hockey League.

The Ontario Professional Hockey League Is Formed

All the hockey world is laughing at a so-called professional hockey league that can only get players that real professional leagues don't want. It's not a professional league at all. It's a disqualified amateurs' league.
¹

—
Toronto Telegram

As 1907 progressed, Alexander Miln was putting together the next phase of his plan: a shot at the Stanley Cup for his Toronto Professionals. We can only guess, however, as to what he was thinking about developments in the sports world around him. There can be no question that he was acutely aware of them. This was the era of the Athletic War, a vicious power struggle between elites in Montreal and Toronto over control of the country's amateur sports, not just hockey. Miln's team was operating in the epicentre of amateur purism, Toronto, and in the backyard of its most zealous advocate, John Ross Robertson's OHA.

It is hard to exaggerate the incongruities and absurdities that grew out of Canada's Athletic War. Historically, the promoters of professional sports had often been seen as suspect characters. But, by the fall of 1907, it was the governors of amateur athletics who were increasingly viewed as disreputable. Rival “national” sports bodies—the Toronto-based
Canadian Amateur Athletic Union and the Montreal-based Amateur Athletic Federation of Canada—were stuck in a quagmire of mutual disqualifications. So savage was the squabble that the very capacity of the Dominion for self-government—at least in sports—would soon be called into question.

There could be no doubt that the CAAU was gradually gaining the upper hand in the battle for sports supremacy. Already the larger and more established organization, it embarked on an aggressive campaign to organize Canadian athletics from coast to coast. Key to its efforts was the creation of a series of provincial wings that mirrored the federal nature of the country. Amid competing charges of hypocrisy, it seemed only fitting that the Union would be organized as a federation, while the Federation was a unitary body.

However, the CAAU, infused as it now was with John Ross Robertson's ideology, was also plagued with all the governance disputes that had racked the Ontario Hockey Association under his leadership. As in the OHA, lacrosse players were expelled from the Union en masse, with no exceptions. During the year, there were on-again, off-again ruptures with associations governing skating, canoeing, bowling and, most notably, rugby football. The last occurred after the CAAU thought it had scored a big coup in the country's rising summer game.

The new Interprovincial Rugby Football Union, also known as the “Big Four,” had been formed under the auspices of the CAAU. It would consist of the Montreal (AAA) Winged Wheelers and Ottawa Rough Riders in the east and the Toronto Argonauts and Hamilton Tigers in the west. Almost immediately, however, the CAAU and IRFU descended into an ugly scrap. The issue was the amateur status of Montrealer Ernie Russell, who also happened to be a member of the (professional) Stanley Cup champion Wanderers. The IRFU and the Argonauts—home club of the chair of the CAAU's registration committee, J. G. Merrick—promptly left the organization.

As a consequence, though, the CAAU began to manage such disputes more pragmatically. Knowing that an affiliation with the Federation was lurking round the corner, the Union started to resolve rule conflicts by agreeing to forgive past transgressions in exchange for future adherence. This was a significant deviation from its own strict amateur code, but
the CAAU was clearly prepared to do so if it would strengthen the organization. Such expediency would prove particularly troublesome in one high-profile case.

That would involve the sensational aboriginal runner Tom Longboat from the Six Nations reserve near Brantford, Ontario. The Onondaga runner had gained notoriety by winning area races while still a teenager. He was six weeks short of his twentieth birthday when he entered the Boston Marathon for the first (and only) time—and he went on to win in 2:24:24, shattering the previous record by a remarkable five minutes.

Longboat's win in Boston had been phenomenal. Running with a bad cold, in rain and chilly weather, the youngster quickly won over the crowd that braved the elements. As the Boston
Globe
reported, “they saw in Tom Longboat the most marvellous runner who has ever sped along our roads. With a smile for everyone, he raced along and at the finish he looked anything but like a youth who had covered more miles in a couple of hours than the average man walks in a week.”
²

There was a problem, though. Through the eyes of those who wish to see nothing but amateur purity, the kid the Canadian newspapers were calling “the noble red man”
³
sure looked like a professional athlete. Accused of irregular training, he had no evident occupation other than running. His manager, the flamboyant promoter Tom Flanagan, claimed he controlled all the cash and paid Longboat only expenses.

Based on accumulating evidence—and perhaps some jealousy—Longboat ran afoul of American authorities. James E. Sullivan, the powerful boss of the Amateur Athletic Union of the United States, wanted him declared a professional. The CAAU's nationalistic defence
of Longboat quickly became another factor in worsening relations with the American body. Finally, the AAU severed its link with the CAAU and affiliated with the AAFC instead. The already complex world of athletic sanction and censure now became doubly so for any Canadian contestant crossing the border.