For the next stand-off, wherever it is

In the late 1800s, Joe Beef's Canteen, on Montreal's waterfront, was a place for sailors, wharf rats, petty thieves and the like. It's become a working-class legend, and the name of the fictional Joe Beef is even better-known than that of the actual owner, Charles McKiernan.

Some of his pet bears became drunks, the human regulars played piano, and McKiernan held court in rhyming couplets. The two skeletons behind the bar were portrayed as the owner's first wife, his Irish relatives, or the remains of the last temperance lecturer to annoy patrons.

Joe Beef provided wooden sofas as beds for ten cents (you got a blanket, and a bath if you were filthy). For another dime, you were fed for the day -- a good chunk of the patrons were boys of 12 to 14 who earned their living selling newspapers. And if you had no cash, the cost was simply waived.

In December 1877 some 1,000 labourers working on enlarging the Lachine Canal had their salaries cut, and went on strike. They demanded one dollar a day, a daily maximum of nine hours of work, regular pay every two weeks, and actual money, rather than "truck" like a chicken and a pint of scotch in lieu of wages.

Following a riot, the strike leader was shot, and the army was called in to restore the peace and protect those who remained on the job.

According to "Joe Beef of Montreal" (by Peter DeLottinville in Labour/Le Travailleur, Autumn-Spring 81-82): "Practical in all things, McKiernan realized that strikers, like the army, travel on their stomachs. On the morning of 20 December, he sent 300 loaves of bread, 36 gallons of tea, and a similar quantity of soup. These supplies required two wagons to be delivered. In addition to feeding the strikers, McKiernan took in as many as the Canteen could hold. One night 300 people found shelter under his roof.

"Throughout the strike McKiernan was observed 'carting loaves and making good, rich soup in mammoth boilers, as if he were a commissary-general with the resources of an army at his back.' No doubt his military training was put to the test in maintaining order in his kitchen. That background also made the tavern keep aware of the awkward position of the Prince of Wales Rifles who had been hastily summoned to guard the canal.

"To ensure that the soldier ate as well as a striker, McKiernan despatched a wagon of bread to the men on duty. The soldiers saw the humour in Joe Beef's assistance and gave most of the bread away to the crowd. Some of the tension between striker and soldier was successfully released."