One of the joys of this newsletter over the years has been that we’ve tried to make our final issue for the year something fun and entertaining. The downside of having been doing this newsletter for so long, is that I find that I have told most of the great stories (Like Anna the Secret Santa, an all-time reader favourite, and the first chapter of Driven By Purpose) already.
Few stories, however, rival that of Charles Vance Millar, whose abrupt demise in 1926 led to one of the most interesting estate stories in Canadian History. Millar, a lawyer, was born in 1854, in what is now Aylmer, Ontario, just down the road from my home. Awkward sentence: suggestion (Millar, a lawyer born in 1894, hailed from what is now Aylmer, Ontario, located just down the road from my home) Reportedly an excellent student, he graduated with near perfect marks from the University of Toronto.
Millar would use his earnings from his law practice to develop an extensive business empire. In addition to owning the BC Express Company (which delivered mail for the BC government), he had investments in racehorses, racing tracks, and the O’Keefe brewing company.
Beyond his success in business and? in law, , he was known as a prankster and a man of quick wit. Money and fortune, however, were unable to help him on Halloween Day, 1926. He was discussing a case with one of his fellow lawyers when he suddenly collapsed of a stroke at his firm. Sadly, he passed away before a doctor could arrive on the scene. At the time of his passing, he was 72, unmarried, had no children, and was worth about $5 Million in today’s dollars.
Millar’s death would prove to be one of the most interesting deaths in Canadian history- it would infuriate the government, inspire a baby boom in Toronto, and ultimately, allow Vance the last laugh.
Infuriating the Government
At the time of his death, several of the accounting books for O’Keefe Brewing were missing. Evidence was presented that Millar had forwarded these books to his law office, but they were never recovered after his sudden death. The government took the position that the company owed the modern equivalent of $3.1M in taxes. As a result, O’Keefe’s was suspended from brewing “strong beer” unless the books were recovered. After a year, O’Keefe’s indicated to the courts that they had had no luck in retrieving the missing books.
I’ve not been able to find any historical records to indicate if they ever were located. Clearly, however, given that O’Keefe Brewery continued for many decades, the company was able to recover, and merged with Molson’s in 1989.
The Great Stork Lottery & The Last Laughs
Charles Millar’s will was a masterpiece of wit and whimsy. Relatively short by modern standards, it contained one of the more…interesting…. preambles to any will I have read:
This Will is necessarily uncommon and capricious because I have no dependents or near relations and no duty rests upon me to leave any property at my death and what I do leave is proof of my folly in gathering and retaining more than I required in my lifetime.
There were 10 clauses in his will – of which only a few were straightforward. The unusual clauses were particularly amusing in nature:
Clause 1: To A.L. Gourlay of the J.J. McLaughlin Company, Toronto, I give ten thousand dollars as he lost approximately that sum in a business transaction with me.
I don’t know what happened in that transaction, but clearly there is a story here. If any of our readers happens to know it, please fill us in!
Clause 5: At the death of Major Joseph Kilgour I give to the Head Bishop of the Roman Catholic Church at Toronto five hundred dollars for Masses for the soul of the said Major as he will be greatly in need of help at that time.
Jospeh Kilgour was a Toronto businessman who raised horses. His house and horse farm once stood on the grounds of what is now Sunnybrook Hospital. He had numerous business interests including a paper bag and cardboard manufacturing business, which had invented the flat-bottomed paper bag. He would die two years after Millar, and, one presumes, the Catholic Church would have worked hard to pray for Joseph in the afterlife.
Clause 6: I give to Honorable W.E. Raney, A.M. Orpen and Reverend Samuel D. Chown, each one share in the Ontario Jockey Club providing three years from my death each of them becomes enrolled as shareholders in the share register of the club and if they or any of them fail to do so the said three shares shall form part of my residuary estate.
Raney and Chown were ardent anti-horse racing advocates, and Orpen was a direct competitor who was known to despise the Jockey Club. All three men accepted their inheritance, with Raney and Chown immediately selling their shares and the proceeds given to charity.
Clause 7: To each duly ordained Minister of a Christian Church (except one Spracklin who shot an Hotelkeeper) resident at my death in Towns of Walkerville and Sandwich and the City of Windsor and earning an annual salary expounding the scripture to the sinners there, I give one share in the Kenilworth Jockey Club.
Presumably, most of the Ministers chose not to accept their share. Spracklin was famous for having shot and killed a man who was engaged in Illegal Liquor Sales. Spracklin was a liquor inspector for the province, and had been known for questionable methods to root out bootleggers from his community. His home had been shot at a few days before the death of the hotelkeeper, and a judge accepted his defense that the hotelkeeper was pulling a gun on him when he opened fire. Unsurprisingly, Minister Spracklin resigned from his church post shortly after being acquitted, as presumably murder, even in self-defense, was not appropriate for a man of the cloth.
Clause 8: To each Protestant Minister exercising his clerical function at an annual salary and resident in Toronto at the time of my death and to each Orange Lodge in Toronto I give one share of the O’Keefe Brewery Company of Toronto, Limited.
A tricky clause for Baptist ministers, to be sure – apparently 99 ministers and 103 Orange lodges accepted their gift. However, it turned out that Millar did not own his shares directly, but through a holding company. They made arrangements to split their portion equally upon the sale of the holding company in 1928, and as a group split well over $1 Million in today’s dollars. I’m sure they all raised a glass of beer to toast Millar in his honor when the transaction was done!
Clause 9: To T.P. Galt, K.C., J.D. Montgomery and James Haverson, K.C., I give for life my house on Jamaica Island known as Ivy Green on the Half Way Tree Road and upon the death of the last survivor of them I direct my Executors and Trustees to sell the same and give the proceeds to the Council of the City of Kingston, Jamaica, for distribution among the poor of that City deserving help.
The three men named were lawyer friends of Millar who utterly despised one and other. The three men apparently tried to put their differences aside in order to lay claim to the property – only to find out that Millar had already sold it prior to his death!
Clause 10: All the rest and residue of my property wheresoever situate I give, devise and bequeath unto my Executors and Trustees named below in Trust to convert into money as they deem advisable and invest all the money until the expiration of nine years from my death and then call in and convert it all into money and at the expiration of ten years from my death to give it and its accumulations to the Mother who has since my death given birth in Toronto to the greatest number of children as shown by the Registrations under the Vital Statistics Act. If one or more mothers have equal highest number of registrations under the said Act to divide the said moneys and accumulations equally between them.
Clause 10 would go on to make Millar famous, triggering what became known as the “Great Stork Derby”. After a supreme court challenge found the clause legally binding – albeit with some clarification that only children born in wedlock counted, 4 women claimed the prize a decade later. Three of the four, however, had to pay back relief money they had taken from the City of Toronto, which helped feed the many mouths. Two other women collected a smaller sum, who had laid claim to the prize, albeit with questionable proof of having had the requisite number of children. The estate chose to settle litigation rather than prolong what had already been a decade-long estate even further.
The contest would go on to become legendary, with a few books, and a movie starting Megan Follows retelling the entire affair.
Don’t fear the end – embrace it, and maybe even have some fun with your estate plans.
While I suspect few people would be as mischievous and impish as Charles Millar was, I think the lesson we can all learn from this is that rather than avoiding the thought of our own demise, embrace it, and, dare I say, even enjoy the process. At the end of the day, Millar’s will continues to bring a smile to faces as his quirky estate story is retold a century later, and without a doubt, his residual gift to the (very) large families he inspired was impactful – especially at the heart of the great recession. For a man with what was a clearly legendary sense of humour, his will reflected who he was. We may not all share his personal values – or approach to his estate, but he gave us all a good reminder that a will can be both memorable, meaningful, and reflect the personal values of the writer.
So, this holiday season, if your background allows, raise a glass to toast Charles Vance Millar, who embraced his demise with the same twinkle in his eye with which he was known in life.
Ryan