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 Booze, Glorious Booze! Bill Wolchock and Prohibition in Manitoba

Ed. introduction: This story was originally published to our website in October, 2023, but it resonated so much with readers – who have continually told me they enjoyed it so much, I’ve decided to bring it back to our Home page every once in a while. It has received an astounding number of views since it was first published – over 10,000making it the most popular story ever published on this website.

To explain, last September, I began what turned into an unexpectedly amusing dive into a part of our Jewish community’s history that is endlessly fascinating to me when I wrote about a book that was published in October titled “Jukebox Empire: The Mob and the Dark Side of the Amerian Dream.”
That book is about someone by the name of Wilf Rabin, who was originally Wilf Rabinovitch. Rabin was born in Morden, but moved to Chicago as a young man. Eventually he became involved in the juke box business – a business which was ripe from the outset for exploitation by criminals, especially the Mafia, as juke boxes spun out huge amounts of cash that were never reported to tax authorities.
In the course of writi­ng my article about that book, I mentioned several other Jewish characters who preferred to make their money illegally. I also referred to someone whose name was spelled “Bill Wolchuk” in a book about Winnipeg’s North End, but I made the mistake of saying “Wolchuk” wasn’t Jewish.
Boy, did that unleash a torrent of corrections from readers. It was made quite clear to me that Bill “Wolchock” was very much Jewish – and that he was practically a legend in this town.
Then I received a phone call from reader Arnold Rice, who told me that he had in his possession an article from a December 2, 2002 Winnipeg Free Press about Bill Wolchock. Arnold offered to loan me the article, but I declined, saying I could probably find the article on the Winnipeg Pubic Library digital archives.
That I did – and when I scanned the article, which was written by a former Free Press writer by the name of Bill Redekop, I thought to myself: Here’s the perfect article for our Rosh Hashanah issue: It’s much too long to ever fit into any other issue – and the theme will likely resonate with many of our readers who might consider atoning for their sins on Yom Kippur.
In any event, I was able to get in touch with Bill Redekop and I obtained his permission to reprint the article in full (for a fee, of course). It turns out the article forms a chapter in a book written by Redekop in 2002, titled “Crimes of the Century – Manitoba’s Most Notorious True Crimes.”
I told Redekop that I was actually able to find the book on Amazon – much to his amazement, but that it was also available at several branches of the Winnipeg Public Library. Now, it wasn’t easy transcribing that chapter of Redekop’s book, but I thought it might prove delightful reading for many of our readers.
So, here goes: The story of Manitoba’s greatest bootlegger – Bill Wolchock – someone whose success was on a par with that other great Jewish bootlegging family: the Bronfmans. (Wolchock, however, liked bootlegging so much that he turned down the opportunity to go straight, unlike the Bronfmans. Can you just imagine how much the Combined Jewish Appeal could have benefited from a “straight” Bill Wolchock? And what of all the buildings that would have been named after him – and honours he would have received from our Jewish community, if he had only decided to emulate the Bronfmans?)

A pair of employees talking on the floor of the CNR shops in Transcona sounds like an unlikely launch to the biggest bootleg operation in Manitoba history.

It was the early 1920s under Prohibition. Leonard Wolchock, 74 son of bootlegger, Bill Wolchock, tells the story.
“Sonny (nickname), a CNR boilermaker one day came up to my dad, who was a machinist with the railway and asked if he could make a part for him. “What’s it for?” my dad asked. “It’s for a still,” Sonny said. Sonny was making stills for farmers out in the country. My dad said, “Sonny, you want to make a still? I’ll make you a still and we’re not going to fool around!”

What began as a still to make a little booze for themselves and friends during Canada’s Prohibition certain soon turned into something much bigger. The two CNR workers realized there was an insatiable thirst for their product. “I don’t think dad planned to be in the business for a long time. It was just going good,” said Leonard.
“Before you know it, my dad was making big booze. He could knock out almost 1000 gallons a day. He wasn’t one of these Mickey Mouse guys making 10 gallons like in the country, like in Libau and all these places. And as time went by, he became very big.”
Sonny and Wolchock parted ways when Wolchock quit the railway to work full-time at alcohol production, but other partners came on side. Every one of them was the same: blue collar men like Wolchock who made a living with their hands.
During Prohibition in the 1920s, Bill Wolchock ran the biggest bootlegging business in Manitoba. He was producing tens of thousands of gallons of 65% overproof alcohol – 94% pure alcohol.
Later, after his business took off, Wolchock shipped almost exclusively to the United States and mostly to gangsters. He stored illegal in farmers’ barns from the village of Reston in southwestern Manitoba to the village of Tolstoi in southeastern Manitoba. He stored illegal booze in a coal yard that used to be on Osborne Street in Winnipeg; in a large automobile service station in St. Boniface;. and in a St. Boniface lumberyard. He stored booze in a Pritchard Avenue horse barn. Those are just some of the known locations.
At the height of the Great Depression, Leonard estimates his father employed as many as 50 people who would not have been able to put food on the table otherwise. “They all had families, they all had houses, they all could put groceries on the table, thanks to the illegal business,” said Leonard.

Crooks or entrepreneurs?
Wolchock’s story has euded historians all these years. When Wolchock was finally caught and sentenced to five years in prison for income tax evasion, the Second World War was on, and his case didn’t get the publicity it might have otherwise. Besides, the Prohibition era had been over for more than a decade and was old news. Wolchock hadn’t gone straight like the whiskey-making Bronfman family, but had continued to bootleg long after Prohibition had ended.
Leonard Wolchock told the story of his father and a gang of North End bootleggers for the first time for this book. The story was checked against news clippings from the period.
Wolchock owned at least two large stills in Winnipeg. A huge four-story still operation in a building that was in the 1000 block on Logan Avenue, just east of McPhillips Street, that produced up to 400 gallons a day; and a huge still in a building that used to be on Tache Avenue, about 300 meters west of the Provencher Bridge on the river side. He also had smaller stills, often in rural locations and owned portable stills. He moved around from barn to barn outside Winnipeg to elude police.
Wolchock never considered what he was doing wrong, said his son. He thought the governments were wrong. People were going to find a way to drink one way or another.
“My father was a manufacturer. He was filling a niche market. I’m not ashamed of anything he did,” said Leonard.
Even the police chief who lived just five doors down from the Wolchock home at 409 Boyd Avenue would drop in regularly for a friendly drink. The fire commissioner, who lived one street over on College Avenue and three houses down, was another thirsty visitor. Granted, Wolchock ran a little import liquor businesses as a front, which was legal at the time, but Leonard has little doubt the authorities knew what his father’s main source of income was.
“The chief of police knew what my father was doing, and the fire chief was over at our place all the time!” said Leonard.

When the RCMP finally moved in on his father for income tax evasion, it was a measure of the respect for Wolchock that he was never arrested. Police called his dad with the news, said Leonard. “The police chief phoned up and said, ‘Bill, I want you to come down.’ They never sent anyone to get him.”
Booze, glorious booze! Was it more glamorous in Prohibition when it was illegal, or was the illegal liquor trade more harmful by turning otherwise law abiding men into criminals? Was illegal liquor more dangerous to your health (alcohol poisoning), and did concealed drink drinking lead to more serious drinking problems?
While both Canada and the United States brought in Prohibition, there was a great gulf in how Prohibition played out in the two countries. Like a typical Canadian TV drama, Prohibition was more shouting than shooting in Canada. In the United States, it was more shooting. Much more.
Corpses in the gangster booze wars in the US were rarely found with just one or two bullets in them, but four, five, eight. Gangsters adopted the submachine gun invented by John Thompson in the 1920s, variously dubbed the Tommy Gun, Chopper Gat, and Chicago Typewriter. Frank Gusenberg took 22 bullets in the famous St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Chicago, when Al Capone’s men disguised as police officers lined up seven of George “Bugs” Moran’s men against a warehouse wall and opened fire. One creative reporter at the time wrote the machine guns “belched death.”
These two news stories from a single September day in 1930 on the front page of the Manitoba Free Press are typical:
Detroit, Michigan: “An unidentified man was killed tonight by two assassins, armed with sawed-off shotguns who stepped out of an automobile, fired four charges into the body of their victim and escaped in the auto. It was the third gang killing of the week here.
Elizabeth, New Jersey: “Twelve gunmen waited in ambush within Sunrise Brewery here today, disarming a raiding party of seven dry agents and shot and killed one of the invaders.” One federal agent was found shot eight times. “The gangsters, who apparently had been forewarned of the raid, than escaped.”
There are likely several reasons why Canada didn’t go the gangster route. One, there were more loopholes in Canadian law to get liquor if you wanted. For example, you could get a prescription for “medical” brandy. Two, we have never been as gun-happy as the Americans. And three, our Prohibition didn’t last as long. Prohibition in the U.S. ran from 1920-1933. In Manitoba, Prohibition started in 1916 and ended in 1923.
While Canada didn’t have the gang wars like down south, it did become the feeder system, the exporter, the good neighbour and free trader to the U.S. for liquor. Our Prohibition was winding down just as American Prohibition was getting started in 1920. How fortuitous for an enterprising bootlegger! Manitobans could legally buy liquor from the government and run it across the border into the hands of thirsty Americans.
And being neighbourly, we did. One of the major gateways was the Turtle Mountains in southwestern Manitoba. Booze poured through the hills, said James Ritchie, archivist with the Boissevain and Morton Regional Library.
“A longstanding tradition of smuggling through the Turtle Mountains already existed before Prohibition. People had already been smuggling things across for 50 years or more, so alcohol was just more item of trade,” Richie said.
Minot, North Dakota, of all places, was a gangster haven and was dubbed “Little Chicago” back then. A railway town, it served it as a distribution hub for liquor coming in from Manitoba and Saskatchewan.
The 65-kilometer border of Turtle Mountain Hills is carved with trails every few kilometers so there was no way a border patrol could close down the rum running, said Richie. Many of the trails were simply road allowances where a road hadn’t got built. “If you tried to cross anywhere near Emerson, where it’s so flat, the custom guard could see your car coming from 10 miles away. You can’t do that in the Turtles. The custom guard can’t see you from 500 feet away,” said Ritchie.
Many a poor southwestern Manitoba farm family augmented their income with a little rumrunning. They could buy a dozen bottles every two weeks, the government-set allotment for personal use, and sell it for profit just a few miles away. “Prohibition created an economic opportunity for a lot of families,” said Ritchie.
But it was small trade compared to what the Bronfmans would do. Ezekiel and Mindel Bronfman arrived in Brandon in the late 1800s. The 1901 Canada Census lists them as residents of Brandon, along with their children, including Harry and Sam. It was after the Bronfmans had moved to Saskatchewan that they began selling whiskey to the United States in the 1920s. They exported whiskey by the boxcar-load. They later moved to Brandon briefly, where they continued the rumrunning before finally setting up in Montreal.

Meanwhile, Winnipeg was the bacchanalia of the West prior to Prohibition, as the late popular history writer James H Gray, liked to say. By 1882, Winnipeg had 86 hotels, most of which had had saloons. It also had five breweries, 24 wine and liquor stores (15 of which were on Main Street), and 64 grocery stores selling whiskey. The population was just 16,000.
When government turned off the tap, Manitobans went underground. Private stills sprang up everywhere. Ukrainian farmers were famous for their stills and acted as engineering consultants for the rest of the community. The Ukrainians seemed to have an inborn talent for erecting the contraptions, and some stills made the old country potato whiskey. In Ukrainian settlements like Vida, Sundown, and Tolstoi someone’s child was always assigned the task of changing the pail from under the spigot that caught the slow dripping distilled whiskey.

Even Winnipeg Mayor Ralph Webb, who had an artificial leg and was manager of the Marlborough Hotel, campaigned for more liberal liquor laws. Webb wanted to attract tourism by promoting Winnipeg as “the city of snowballs and highballs.”
The United States was interested in the Canadian experiment with Prohibition and summoned Francis William Russell, president of the Moderation League of Manitoba, a group that opposed Prohibition, to a U.S. Senate committee in Washington in 1926. Russell said Prohibition simply resulted in the proliferation of stills in Manitoba.
Arrests for illegal stills rose from 40 in 1918, two years into Prohibition in Manitoba, to 300 by 1923. “We found that the province of Manitoba was covered with stills,” he said. He claimed Prohibition hadn’t stopped drinking, it had just kicked it out of the public bar and into the home where it wreaked havoc on families.
One of the strangest still stories took place in the RM of Springfield, just east of Winnipeg, when an RCMP officer and a Customs inspector came across a “mystery” shack. Sure enough, they found a still inside and went in and began dismantling the evidence. Unknown to them, the owners arrived, saw what was going on, and set fire to the shack with them in it. The agents escaped the flames in time, but so did the arsonists, and no charges were laid.
Yet historical accounts only mentioned small stills in Manitoba. Some historians concluded there was no major bootlegging out of Winnipeg, just small neighbourhood and homestead stills. The story of Bill Wolchock shows that not to be true.

Winnipeg had two large thirsty markets in its vicinity: the Twin Cities, St. Paul and Minneapolis in Minnesota, and to a lesser extent, Chicago, Illinois.
St. Paul was a nest of gangsters. John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, Machine Gun Kelly, and Ma Barker and her sons, all took refuge in the city at one time or another. The person who ran the underworld in St. Paul was gangster Isadore “Kid Cann” Blumenfeld.
Chicago, of course, was the gangster capital of North America, controlled by Al Capone.
Capone was just 25 years old when he controlled Chicago. It does seem that Prohibition brought many young people into crime. Another Chicago bootlegger, Hymie Weiss, was gunned down by Capone’s men at the tender age of 28. “Hymie Weiss was not Jewish as his name suggests, but Catholic. His real name was Wajciechowski, and Hymie was a nickname.)
Wolchock and his partners were in their early twenties when they started selling booze. Wolchock shipped pure alcohol to both the Twin Cities and Chicago, but more so to Minnesota. When his son Leonard attended a convention in Minneapolis years later, he was feted by a gangster-looking character who recognized Leonard’s resemblance to his father. The gangster offered to foot his bill.
Wolchock Sr. Also sold to Duluth, Minnesota, and to Alberta distilleries. It’s also likely he was also shipping to Minot, since he was storing alcohol in barns in southwestern Manitoba. His business was selling to other manufacturers who brewed the pure alcohol into liquor. He would get rich from it.

Archibald William Wolchock was born in Minsk, Russia, which is now in Ukraine, in 1898, and came to Winnipeg in 1906 with his parents. He grew up and married and lived at 409 Boyd Avenue, at the corner of Boyd and Salter Street. Wolchock wasn’t a gangster, but he sold to them. Leonard believes his father likely dealt with Kid Cann in the Twin Cities, who ran the illegal liquor business there. “My dad did a lot of business in St. Paul,” said Leonard.
Most of what Leonard knows about his dad’s business was told to him by friends and associates of his dad. His father followed the code of the day and kept his business and home separate. Wolchock had a simple rule for his son if people should ask about his work: he would press his index finger to his lips.
While at Assiniboia Downs a man once approached Leonard and said he knew his dad. This sort of thing happened a lot in Leonard’s life because he resembled his dad.
“The guy was a railroader,” Leonard related. “He said, ‘I knew your dad. We stole a train for him once. I said, ‘Get out of here.’ He said, ‘Listen, your dad said he had a big shipment going to Chicago that he couldn’t deliver by car. I told him, ‘Don’t worry, Bill.’ The man said a crew of four, including a brakeman, pulled an engine and three box cars over at Bergen cut-off and loaded them with alcohol. The alcohol, when it went by rail, was shipped in 45 gallon drums. Somewhere along the track, the railway men switched the cars over to the Soo Line track that went to Chicago. When the payoff came, Wolchock showed up at a secret location and dished out $100 bills like playing cards to the railroaders.
The Bronfman family knew about Wolchock and Wolchock, of course, knew about them. Wolchock was friendly with the Bronfman brother-in-law, Paul Matoff, who ran Bronfman stores in Carduff, Gainsborough, and Bienfait, Saskatchewan where he sold whiskey to American rumrunners. On October 4th, 1922, Matoff took payment from a North Dakota bootlegger. Shortly after a 12-gauge shotgun blast killed him instantly in the railway station. The murder was never solved.
“Matoff told my dad, ‘Bill, your market is in the States,’” said Leonard.

Another time a friend of Wolchock Sr., nicknamed Tubby, took Leonard aside. They bumped into each other at the hospital, where Wolchock was dying. “Tubby said he and his brother had a truck, and one day my dad called and asked if they had a tarp for the truck. They said, yeah, so dad said, “Go to such and such place, back up your truck, don’t get out, don’t look in the mirror, don’t do nothing. Someone will put something in your truck. Then go to this address and do the same. Don’t get out, don’t look in your rearview mirror, don’t do nothing.’ That’s how business was done.”
Wolchock was always a sharp dresser and wore suits and long overcoats. His shirts were specially made by Maurice Rothschild’s in Minneapolis and monogrammed AWW across the pocket. His suits were made in the Abe Palay tailor shop that used to be on Garry Street across from the old Garrick Theater. “My dad wore a fedora because he was bald,” said Leonard. One of Wolchock‘s favourite hangouts was the Russian Steam Baths on Dufferin Avenue, where he went Wednesdays and Saturdays.
When that closed, he and his bootleg pals went to Obee’s Steam Baths on McGregor near Pritchard.
Wolchock had a chain of people with various trades and skills on the payroll and always paid well. For example, he had agreements with several tinsmiths to make him the gallon cans to put the alcohol in when it was being smuggled by car.
One tinsmith told Leonard he used to make $200-$400 per week moonlighting for his father. He earned $30 a week on his day job as a tinsmith.
The gallon cans would be put in jute bags and tossed in the back of a car. The drivers would go across the border at small town points like Tolstoi and Gretna.
Border security back then wasn’t like it is today.
Wolchock couldn’t buy anything in bulk, like the sugar to make the alcohol or the cans to put the liquor into, because it would attract too much attention. So he had deals all over the place. He had a deal with a major local bakery, which used to have a central bakery and stores around Winnipeg, to supply him the sugar. He also had a deal with a bakery out on the West Coast.
Wolchock even had deals with hog farmers to get rid of the mash from alcohol production, which makes an excellent feedstuff for livestock. He had drivers and sales agents. He had a chemist on the payroll.
Wolchock also had two or three henchmen. They carried guns in shoulder holsters and hung around the family, but they were the only business associates that ever came to the house. “My dad lived a normal life. We sat and listened to hockey games, but he had strong-armed men around if there was any trouble,” Leonard recalled.
“My dad wasn’t a run-around,” said Leonard. “He was a family man. He was home for lunch and dinner all the time.”
Wolchock also had a friend highly placed with the federal excise office in Winnipeg. His name cannot be revealed here. He also had a highranking local bank official who helped him, but Leonard also doesn’t know in what way. Wolchock once gave his sister $30,000 to deposit in a bank, but that’s all Leonard knows about the transaction. Later in life, Leonard once asked the banker, a big gruff man who always smoked a cigar, what his arrangement was with his father. “None of your f-ing business,” the banker snapped.
One of the problems for Wolchock was where to put the money. He made piles of money, but he couldn’t deposit it in the bank like everyone else because he couldn’t explain to authorities how he made it. Leonard thinks he stashed it, but doesn’t know where. While the family didn’t live ostentatiously, perhaps because that would have attracted attention, they always had money at a time when most people didn’t. “People were dirt poor. There was no money around,” said Leonard. All four of Wolchock ‘s sons received vehicles when they were old enough to drive and all would later get houses when they left home.
One of Wolchock’s hobbies was collecting racehorses with names like Dark Wonder, Sun Trysts, Let’s Pretend. “My dad had a stable of horses in the early days to just get rid of the money,” said Leonard. Leonard’s mother Rose used to travel to watch the horses race at major racetracks in California and Hastings Park in Vancouver. Other enterprises Wolchock invested in included buying a ladies’ garment factory and the Sylvia Hotel in Vancouver. Leonard believes his father may have been a millionaire by the time he married Rose in 1927. Leonard was born the next year. “My mother’s family was poor. Dad gave them lots of money. He paid for everything. Money was of no consequence.”
His parents regularly took vacations in Hot Springs, Arkansas, which was sort of a racketeer tourist destination at the time, with legal gambling introduced thanks to gangster Meyer Lansky. It also had bath houses with natural hot springs. For some reason, racketeers had a thing for steam baths and hot springs.

Leonard claims – and insists it’s true – that his father would carry around $15,000 on him all the time. He once walked into a car dealership on Portage Avenue where McNaught Motors is now and bought a Cadillac on the spot with cash. “I never saw my dad with a wallet. All he had was a roll of bills with an elastic around it.”

Everything was in cash. For his bootlegging business Wolchock would buy six to eight cars at a time for his rumrunners to transport booze. He bought the cars at two Winnipeg dealerships where he had business relations. The first thing he always did with the new cars was tear out the backseat so he could fit in more alcohol. The stable of cars was parked inside a St. Boniface service garage. The runners had access day and night, mostly night. They sometimes went all the way to destinations like St. Paul, but usually they would just cross the border and unload into a shuttle car driven by an American rumrunner.
Wolchock and his merry men were a crosssection of Manitoba nationalities and religious origins in the 1920s. Wolchock was Jewish, and his cohorts were a mix of Poles, Frenchmen, Scotsmen, Ukrainians, Jews, Mennonite farmers near Steinbach, and Belgians – “a lot of Belgians,” Leonard said.
Leonard doesn’t know exactly how many people it took to run a still, maybe eight for the larger ones. When RCMP busted Wolchock‘s large still on Logan Avenue in 1936, it was the largest still ever found in Manitoba. Its operations extended to all four floors and into the basement, according to the Manitoba Free Press. The building also had an office, two vehicles and living quarters on the third floor. Employees gained entrance to the living quarters through a crawl space. In the living quarters were bunk beds and cooking equipment and books. The building was empty when police raided it. No charges were laid. The building was owned by the city from a tax sale.
Even after Prohibition ended and liquor was legal, it was government-controlled in Canada, so good money could still be made in bootlegging. The Bronfmans had managed the tricky business from illegal bootlegger to legal distiller, but not Wolchock. Like most law breakers, he didn’t quit while he was ahead.

RCMP finally charged Wolchock after customer Howard Gimble of Minneapolis got caught and ratted on him. Gimble was the key witness against Wolchock. The Manitoba Free Press reported that RCMP had tried been trying to nail Wolchock for years before Gimble gave them their break.
The charge was conspiring to defraud the federal government out of income tax moneys on liquor sales. The RCMP claimed he defrauded the government of $125,000, but that that was just a figure plucked out of the air, based on the scale of operation from a single portable still. The jury was locked up for the 10-day trial because of previous suspicions of jury tampering. Gimble told the court Wolchock had a portable still he moved from farm to farm near Winnipeg. RCMP found the still on Paul Demark’s farm in Prairie Grove, now a bedroom community at the end of Ste. Anne’s Road, just past the Winnipeg perimeter. But Gimble told the court Wolchock also used the still on the farm of Abraham Toews near Ste. Anne on Dave Letkeman’s farm just southeast of Steinbach, and in Jay Kehler’s barn one mile west of Steinbach. Court was also shown pictures of warehouses and buildings around Winnipeg, including St. Boniface, used in Wolchock ‘s illegal liquor business. Gimble also alleged Wolchock operated another still on a farm near Stonewall. He said it produced five thousands of gallons of alcohol that summer of 1940.
Wolchock and seven of his partners were convicted, but it took three trials. The first trial was declared a mistrial due to suspicion of jury tampering. In the second trial proceedings were halted when Wolchock required a hernia operation. Finally, he was sent to jail.
He got five years in Stony Mountain Penitentiary, and that was before there was such a thing as parole. It is the most severe sentence ever laid in Manitoba history for a liquor offense. Up to that point in March of 1940, no one had received more than an eight-month sentence for liquor offenses in Manitoba. Also convicted and sentenced were Ned Balakowski, three years; Ben Balakowski, eight months; Frank McGirl, eight months; Jules Mourant, one year. Sam Arborg, Eugene Mourant, and Cass Morant each received suspended sentences.
After serving his time, Wolchock remembered the people who helped him in prison. A prison guard at Stony Mountain named Mr. Anderson was always kind to Wolchock. When Wolchock finished his prison term, Leonard was sent out every Christmas over to the Anderson household to deliver food and presents.

Wolchock Sr. also gave generously to the Salvation Army. “He was a great guy to the Salvation Army because the Sally Ann was very good to him in jail,” said Leonard. His father also saw to it that Leonard took Jewish dishes to the Jewish prisoners in Stony Mountain on the high holidays.
He had money left when he got out of jail but the cost of lawyers for three trials drained a lot of it. Wolchock paid everybody’s legal fees. His wife Rose managed their family of four young boys while he was in prison for five years, and Wolchock, when he got out, bought the home then called Bardal Estate, formerly owned by Winnipeg Funeral Director Neil Bardal. It’s a large clapboard house at the end of Hawthorne Avenue in North Kildonan, along the river on what is now named Kildonan Drive. “There was a fireplace in every bedroom,” Leonard recalled. Wolchock also had money to buy a little company, Canadian Wreckage and Salvage.
But the money wasn’t anything like he was used to and, after a couple years, Wolchock called his old mates together for a meeting. He wanted to make one last batch. Who was in? So the men walled off a portion of the Bardal’s home basement. Two of Wolchock’s close friends were bricklayers – and they constructed a still behind the wall. There were no neighbors on Kildonan Drive at the time, so there was no one to detect the smell from alcohol production. The men made the alcohol, distributed to people they could trust, and dismantled the operation. Then they rode off into the sunset.
“The old man had a bundle of money and he dished out to everyone. Louis went to Sudbury and got a 7-Up franchise; Charlie went to California and bought a liquor store; Benny G bought a trucking company; Benny B moved to Vancouver; Ned went back to work.” There were others involved, but Leonard doesn’t know what became of them. Other partners had already taken their money and invested before the RCMP arrest: Johnny B moved to Vancouver and bought a furniture store; Fred S bought a retail fish store in Winnipeg that still exists today under different owners; another partner went into the hotel business.
And Wolchock? “My dad started Capital Lumber at 92 Higgins Avenue with a partner,” said Leonard. “He didn’t make money like in the past, but he still called the shots and had a successful little business.”
That was Prohibition.
“There was honour among men. Back then, your word was your bond. Nothing was written down. Everything was a handshake,” said Leonard.
“My dad came to this country and he always called it the land of milk and honey. He always said that. He said it after he got out of prison, too. He was never bitter.”
Archibald William Wolchock died in 1976 at age 78.

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Features

“Two Weeks in Toronto” is a sweet romantic novel, but with some major shortcomings

book cover/author Amelia Doyle

Review by BERNIE BELLAN As the former publisher of The Jewish Post & News, but still publisher of a popular website – jewishpostandnews.ca, I’ve long been inundated with requests to review books.

I tend to ignore almost all those requests – simply because I don’t have other reviewers available who are willing to review books – unlike years past when there were a few different individuals who would be willing to review books for the paper, so it falls on me to do all the reviewing.

Something else that’s happened more and more often in recent years is that authors become their own publicists and can be quite good at drawing attention to their books.

So it was that when I was contacted a month ago by a writer by the name of Amelia Doyle, who asked me whether I’d be interested in reading a book she’d written titled “Two Weeks in Toronto,” the name of that book was familiar to me as Amelia had contacted me last year to ask me whether I’d like to review her book back then.

I did take her up on her offer at that time – and began to read “Two Weeks in Toronto” but, if truth, be told, I lost interest in it. The book had some major flaws – and as romantic fiction I thought it lacked any real spark.

But, when Amelia contacted me again, this time her email noted that the book was a finalist in something called the Canadian Book Club Awards.

Really? I thought. Maybe I was too quick to put that book down – or to turn off my Kindle – as the case may be.

So, I began to read “Two Weeks in Toronto” all over again – with a promise to myself to finish it this time.

I should also add that of the many emails I’ve been receiving in recent years, many have been either from publicists for books or from the authors themselves, and many of the books I’ve been asked to review have been self-published.

It’s not all that difficult to publish a book nowadays and, in fact, many self-published books that I have read have been quite good.

In the case of “Two Weeks in Toronto,” after opening the book again many months after I had first taken a look at it though, I saw that it was published by something called “BRINKLEY Verlag.” I did some research on BRINKLEY Verlag and saw that it’s an Austrian publishing house, but with no information on its website whether it simply publishes books for a fee or whether it actually accepts manuscripts and publishes them without charging the author.

Also, on the title page of “Two Weeks in Toronto,” it says that the book was edited by someone by the name of Kelly McErlean.

Okay – the book had been published by some sort of publishing house and apparently, it had also been edited. I regarded both those things as pluses.

One more thing: I did do some research on Amelia Doyle and saw that she has authored at least a couple of other books: “A Dublin Love Story” and “The Rabbi’s Wife,” so she must have had at least some practice writing novels, I thought. By the way, if you Google Amelia Doyle and see what books she’s written, you can see they’re all described as “sweet romance.”

What does this have to do with my reviewing the book? you must be wondering.

Well, I’ve been in correspondence with Amelia Doyle and she seems such a nice person that I told myself I have to find something good to say about “Two Weeks in Toronto.”

But honestly, I tend to look at the novels my wife likes to read for guidance as to what women like when it comes to romance and many of the titles I see have a mystery element to them – or some rip roaring sex!

Here’s what AI says when you ask it what kind of romance novels women like to read: “Most women enjoy diverse romance novels, from steamy contemporary/spicy reads and funny rom-coms (like Emily Henry) to emotional historical sagas (like Outlander) or ‘romantasy,’ but popular choices often feature strong emotional connection, relatable characters, satisfying happily ever afters’ (HEA), and tropes like enemies-to-lovers or billionaire romance, with recent trends favoring diverse voices and escapism.”

So where does “Two Weeks in Toronto” fit into any of those descriptions, if any?

Well, it does have a romance at the centre of it, but the romance is so predictable that it hardly whets the appetite.

What it does have though, and which might make it of particular interest to Jewish readers, is a female Jewish protagonist by the name of Ciara Walsh. (Ciara, I had to look up, is an Irish name, and is pronounced Kee-ara. What a nice name!)

The person with whom you just know from the outset Ciara is going to fall in love is her dreamy Irish dentist, Ethan O’Leary, tall and blue-eyed – and strange as it may seem: unattached.

At a certain point we find out that Ciara is Jewish – when Ethan comments on the mezuzah on her door, but as to how Jewish she is – well, that was something I began to wonder about as the book went on.

Now, it’s important to note that the book is set right around Christmas – and Chanukah, and the juxtaposition of those two holidays enters into the plot time and time again. There seemed to be so little distinction between the atmosphere pervading both holidays – wintertime, gift giving, family get-togethers, that I wondered whether Amelia Doyle might not be Jewish, but was trying to attract a Jewish audience by injecting some Jewish notes into her book – so I asked her this question: “Are you Jewish in any way, e.g., have some Jewish family?”

Amelia answered: I’m halachically Jewish. “Both my parents come from observant Jewish families and I grew up in a Conservative home. 

“Generally speaking, you can find anything from ultra-orthodox to atheist Jews in my family. As you can imagine, living in Europe is not easy as a Jewish person.  (I should note that, after further researching Amelia, I discovered that she lives in Dublin.)

“The characters in ‘Two Weeks in Toronto’ were written on purpose in a matter that is more on the liberal side as many of my friends are Reform or in interfaith marriages. This is where the inspiration for this specific book came from.”

In the same email in which I asked Amelia whether she was indeed Jewish, I also noted that I thought the way she intermingled Christmas and Chanukah was deliberately intended to “resonate” with non-Jewish readers.

Amelia responded: “I’m Jewish and there are many ways of practicing Judaism. In this book I decided to write about a non-orthodox Jewish family.”

A “non-orthodox Jewish family?” There’s not much Jewish about them, other than the fact that Ciara’s father, Ian, decided to convert to Judaism when he was younger – for reasons that are totally unexplained. Ciara’s mother, Giuliana (which, apparently, is the Italian spelling for Juliana), is definitely not Jewish, although she doesn’t seem to have much religious orientation either way.

But, let’s not get lost in what is, in essence, a discussion totally irrelevant to this book.

My qualms with “Two Weeks in Toronto” have to do with the writing style – which could have used some good editing. I mentioned that in an email to the author when I was just getting into the book. I suggested that the dialogue could have been much improved had the characters used contractions when speaking, so that for instance, instead of a character saying “I am just stepping out” they could have said, “I’m just stepping out” – which sounds so much more authentic.

Another aspect of this book that drove me crazy is there no explanation for the behaviour of Ciara’s mother, Giuliana, or her sister, Gabriella. Cinderella’s stepmother comes across as kindly compared to Giuliana and, as for Gabriella, who is occasionally referred to as “Bridezilla” by others, well – to use the Cinderella comparison again, she is beyond detestable.

But why? What on earth could sweet, loving Ciara ever have done to provoke such unbridled hatred from her mother and sister? I kept waiting to read an answer – you know, like Ciara was so beautiful that her sister despised her or Giuliana was her stepmother – but no, it’s never explained.

And then there’s Ciara’s relationship with Ethan. Yes, it’s cute how they end up going to Toronto together – to attend Gabriella’s wedding, and they end up sleeping in the same bed together – but without having sex!

So, again, I had to ask Amelia why that was? Here’s what she answered: “In my opinion, most romance books these days are far too explicit. ‘Sweet Romances’ (also known as ‘Clean Romance’) are on the rise again at the moment and this is what my publisher asked me to write.

“Personally, I prefer to have the focus on the relationship and not any sexual relations.

“Not sure about how it is in Canada, but many publishers in Europe as well as the US started publishing ‘clean’ versions of steamier books, not to alienate readers who don’t want to read sexually explicit scenes.”

I’m shattered! “Clean romances” are “on the rise again?” (There’s almost a phallic pun in there, but we won’t go there.)

But hey, it’s almost Chanukah – and Christmas. “Two Weeks in Toronto” is set right around this time of year, so maybe this review is timely. As it’s referred to in the book, this is a book that might make a good read for “Chrismuakkah.”

“Two Weeks in Toronto”

By Amelia Doyle

Published by BRINKLY Vertag, 2024

179 pages

Available on Amazon

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Today’s “Anti-Zionist” Propaganda was Nurtured in the Soviet Union

cartoon from a 1972 Soviet Union publication

By HENRY SREBRNIK For centuries, Jews have been portrayed, by both religious and secular movements, as obstacles to universal order. Christian theology turned Judaism into the emblem of stubborn particularity. Modern ideologies secularized the script, making Jews stand for capitalism, communism, cosmopolitanism, or cultural decay. In the twentieth century, this logic reached its most lethal form in the fantasy of human renewal through the erasure of Jews, culminating in the Holocaust. 
The twenty-first-century iteration recycles the same template in overlapping ways. Islamist movements merge “Jew,” “Zionist,” and “Israeli” into a demonic category whose elimination is a sacred duty. Parts of the Western left have reduced Israel to the very symbol of colonial domination.
What North American Jews are experiencing today, as the ideology of anti-Zionism spreads in left-of-centre spaces, looks eerily familiar to anyone who came of age in the 1970s Soviet Union. Just like antisemites battle against a fantasy of “the Jews” that exists in their own heads, the new anti-Zionists battle a “Zionism” that is conjured up by their own fevered imaginations.
Following the June 1967 war, with Israel’s victory over its Arab neighbours, who were intent on destroying the small Jewish state, anti-Zionism became a central tenet of Soviet propaganda, where “Zionism” was usually equated with self-conscious expressions of Jewishness. It was then that the antisemitic notion of Israel as an heir to Nazism and Fascism was popularized in the Soviet media. 
It depicted Israel as the outpost of colonial oppression, Jews as betrayers of socialist internationalism. Soviet propagandists distorted the history of Zionism to underscore its supposedly inherent evil nature, ripping its founders and theorists out of historical context and, absurdly, presenting Zionists as the Jewish people’s greatest enemy. These “rootless cosmopolitans” were accused of corrupting socialism from within. By redefining Jews as racists, Zionism as colonialism, the Soviets handed progressives a vocabulary of virtue through which to disguise an old hatred. 
In political cartoons and Soviet propaganda art, swastikas were routinely intertwined with Stars of David, and the Israeli military portrayed as resembling Nazi — and specifically SS — troops. If there is a Soviet propaganda subtext that highlights its ideological and propagandistic roots, it would be “Fascism Under a Blue Star,” the 1971 book by Evgeny Evseev, who had served as an Arabic interpreter for both Soviet leaders Nikita Khrushchev and Leonid Brezhnev. By the late 1970s, he had became one of the principal brains of the ultranationalist antisemitic movement in the USSR, know as the “Russian Party.” 
Evseev’s book carried a subtitle redolent of Marxist clichés: “Truth about contemporary Zionism: Its ideology, practice, and the organizational system of major Jewish bourgeoisie.” On the illustration printed next to the title page, there was a black spider with both a swastika and a Star of David on top of its body; the spider’s web was spread over the West, from the United States to Britain, France and Italy. 
Perhaps the vilest of all these tracts was “Caution: Zionism! Essays on the Ideology, Organisation and Practice of Zionism,” a 1970 attack by Yuri Ivanov. (By the way, it was republished by a left-wing group, The November 8th Publishing House, in Toronto in 2024.) The book’s singular achievement was to fit classic antisemitic conspiracy theory into the only philosophical framework permitted in the USSR — the Marxist-Leninist one — and rewrite it as anti-Zionist critique. 
“Ivanov managed to supply a strong theoretical foundation for openly criticizing Zionism with the help of Marx’s and Lenin’s works, which no one could argue against,” Vladimir Bolshakov, another prominent “Zionologist,” recalled in his memoirs. I remember coming across it in the late 1970s while writing my PhD dissertation on Jews and Communists, and was shocked by its vituperative language and tone, not to mention falsehoods, worthy of the worst Nazi propaganda. 
All of this bore terrible political fruit. On November 10, 1975, the United Nations passed General Assembly Resolution 3379, equating Zionism with racism. It remains the foundation stone of antisemitic anti-Zionism. It cast Israel, the collective Jew, as committing today’s ultimate crime. Despite being mass-murdered by Nazi racists, Jews became racists. And despite enduring history’s largest genocide, Jews are now accused of “genocide.”
Communist propagandists enjoyed manipulating words to trigger “Pavlovian” responses, the Princeton Kremlinologist Robert Tucker observed; their “ultimate weapon of political control would be the dictionary.”
Much has been written of late about the deep Soviet roots of today’s virulent anti-Zionism in the West. Some thirty-five years after the fall of the Soviet empire, the Soviet corpse continues to emit its infectious gases and poisons people’s minds and imaginations. After 7 October, parts of the Western Left responded not with horror but with slogans lifted from Soviet propaganda: Israel as colonial, Zionism as apartheid, Jews as global oppressors.
Today’s anti-Zionism is not actually concerned with the relationship Jews have with Israel. It is a project centered on producing villains. In this, it follows its predecessors: antisemitism and anti-Judaism. Antisemites were never concerned with the authenticity of Jewish identity, practice, or behaviour; they sought to construct “the Jew” as a monster. 
Anti-Zionism repeats this mechanism, simply substituting “the Zionist” for “the Jew,” while inheriting the same foundational hatred. Failing to recognize that anti-Zionism, whose Soviet and Nazi genealogy reveals that it has nothing to do with Jews and their right to self-determination, is fundamentally a project of constructing fiends. 
Antisemitism functions not merely as a prejudice but as a moral language, a grammar that shapes how societies explain disorder and assign blame. It provides simplicity where reality is complex and coherence where the world feels incoherent. For such people, it becomes a battle against a uniquely devious and implacable foe – something that cannot be resolved by elections or arguments, but only by confrontation. The logic points beyond persuasion to elimination.
The only way to be anti-Zionist without being an antisemite is to reject the legitimacy of all nation-states equally. The loudest supporters of Palestinian statehood are not doing that. No one should mistake it, or be taken in by those espousing it, for what it is. We should call it, along with antisemitism and anti-Judaism, as “Jew-hatred.” It is nothing more – or less.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.

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“Kaplan’s Plot” – newly released novel set in Chicago is both historical fiction and psychological drama

Jason Diamond/cover of "Kaplan's Plot"

Reviewed by BERNIE BELLAN I had been searching for a new book this summer that would be of particular interest to Jewish Post readers when I came across the title of a new book that had yet to be released, called “Kaplan’s Plot.” It had received quite a bit of buzz on a number of websites that spotlight books that have – at least in part – a Jewish theme, although it still had not been reviewed when I first read about it.

The plot of the book, as it was described in those initial previews, certainly appealed to me, as it was said to combine a story about a Jewish gangster in Chicago in the early part of the 20th century with a modern day story about a man whose life had come completely unravelled and who was forced to return to Chicago to live with his dying mother.

I’ve been a fan of Jewish gangster stories for years, especially ones written by our own Allan Levine – and I’d often published stories about real life Jewish gangsters – or Jewish gangster fighters – as the case may be, in the pages of The Jewish Post & News (also on jewishpostandnews.ca).
Last year, for instance, I wrote a review of a book called “The Incorruptibles,” about efforts by law-abiding Jews in New York City in the early part of the 20th century to fight corruption. You can read my review here: “The Incorruptibles.”

Also, in the past I’ve run stories about Jewish underworld figures who either lived in Winnipeg or had a strong Winnipeg connection. One of the most popular stories ever to appear on our website, for instance (and which is still being widely viewed), is one that was written by Bill Redekopp – a former writer for the Free Press, who had profiled a fascinating Winnipeg bootlegger by the name of Bill Wolchock in his book, “Crimes of the Century – Manitoba’s Most Notorious True Crimes.” You can read Redekopp’s story about Wolchock at “Bill Wolchock.”

Another story that garnered quite a bit of attention when it was first published was Martin Zeilig’s story about Winnipeg-born Al Smiley, which appeared in the March 29, 2017 issue of The Jewish Post & News. The most interesting tidibt in Martin’s story was that Smiley was was sitting beside the notorious Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel when Siegel was murdered in 1947. That story doesn’t appear as a stand-alone story on our website, but you can find it by downloading the entire March 29, 2017 issue by entering a search through our “Search archive” link for Al Smiley.

One more story that dealt with Manitoba Jewish gangsters (and which also referenced the Bill Wolchock story) was one I wrote in 2023 titled “A deep dive into the lives of some shadier members of our community.” In that story I wrote about a book that was about to be published titled “Jukebox Empire: The Mob and the Dark Side of the American Dream.” It was the story of Wolf Rabin (born William “Wolfe” Rabinovitch), written by his nephew, David Rabinovitch.

All this serves as a very long winded preamble to a review of “Kaplan’s Plot.” I was somewhat disappointed to learn that the characters in the book are all fictitious, since the mobsters are so vividly drawn – although there are very brief references to real-life mobsters, including Al Capone, Meyer Lansky and Charles “Lucky” Luciano, that make you wonder whether some of the other mobsters might also have been real people.
According to information available about the author, Jason Diamond, this is his very first novel – a very impressive debut. He certainly brings to life a very nasty Chicago in the early part of the 20th century.
What makes what Diamond has written an even more admirable achievement is that the plot works both as a riveting mystery and as a thoughtful examination of a mother and son relationship.

The story alternates between a story set in modern day Chicago (in 2023) and another story that begins in Odesa in Ukraine in 1909, but soon moves to Chicago shortly thereafter.
At first, we read about a character by the name of Elijah Mendes, who has just returned to Chicago from the Bay area, where a business venture in which he was involved has collapsed. Elijah’s mother, Eve, is dying from cancer, but she certainly retains enough strength to carry on with quite a few activities – enabled by her constant puffing on a vape pen. Eve, it turns out, has been a very accomplished poetess during her life and, although she and her late husband Peter were financially quite comfortable, she scoffs at what she regards as Elijah’s obsession with material pursuits.

Eve doesn’t pay much attention to mundane day to day matters, including opening the mail, but when Elijah discovers a series of letters from something called the Hebrew Benevolent Society, his curiosity is piqued and he sets out do discover what those letters are all about.
The chapters alternate between modern and older Chicago, as we are introduced to the Kaplan brothers – Yitzhak and Solomon or, as they come to be known in America – Itz and Sol. The brothers have narrowly escaped a pogrom in Odesa when their parents were able to secure passage for them on a boat destined for Hamburg. Eventually they find themselves on a ship sailing to America, where they make the acquaintance of a character by the name of Hershey.
Hershey tells the boys that he can help them find a place to live in Chicago, where he introduces them to Avi who, it turns out, is a major figure in the Jewish underworld there.
Diamond provides a rich description of what life was like in Chicago back in the day when the city was divided among different ethnic groups who held sway over their own respective territories and when it was dangerous to cross over into the wrong part of town.

As the story develops, we learn that Elijah is actually the grandson of Itz Kaplan, but knows nothing about his grandfather’s very shady past – beyond having been told that he was a “businessman.” When he goes to the building housing the Hebrew Benevolent Society, however, he finds out that there is an entirely new aspect to his family’s past – which leads to his wanting to probe deeply into his family’s history.
Elijah’s own demons – including past drug addiction, a failed marriage, and a deep insecurity about his own ability to succeed in business, come to the fore, but his mother’s refusal to discuss her family’s history haunts him even further.
As the book moves in parallel tracks between two time periods we find out more about Itz Kaplan – and just how malevolent a character he was. And, at the same time as Elijah learns more about Itz, he begins to better understand why his relationship with his mother had gone off the rails.
The mystery of what happened to Itz’s brother, Sol, about whom Elijah had not even known had existed, figures into both stories – the one set in early 20th century Chicago, and the one set in modern Chicago, as Elijah tries to get his mother to open up about her family.

Jason Diamond provides wonderful descriptions of some of the minutiae of Jewish life back in the day when keeping kosher was an essential element of Jewish life. Sol, for instance, is a butcher (something that his father was as well back in Odesa) and maintains a rigid observance of all Jewish laws. He is fastidious about adhering to the quite complex details of butchering meat according to the laws of kashrut, for instance.

Itz, in contrast, who has been deeply emotionally scarred by what he saw happen during the pogrom in Odesa, is totally indifferent to Jewish laws. At the same time though, the reader might develop a grudging admiration for just how cleverly Itz is able to navigate the jungle of the Chicago underworld. That’s why I began this review by referring to other Jewish crime figures – all of whom existed. While we might be repelled by their behaviour, we are often fascinated by the cleverness they exhibited in maneuvering through the almost constant danger that manifested their lives. And – it was knowing that they were living on a knife’s edge that often seemed to motivate them as they stared danger in the face.

Ultimately, Diamond brings it all home. The mystery behind Eve’s family is solved and there is some closure to the relationship between Elijah and Eve.
A truly absorbing story – although just released in September, “Kaplan’s Plot” has already garnered many positive reviews. One review on Goodreads, I note however, says that the reviewer is sick of “mob stories.” I suppose it’s quite evident that I’m a big fan of mob stories that have a Jewish element and, if you are a fan of that genre then “Kaplan’s Plot” is sure to capture your fancy. I’m not sure I’d recommend it as a Chanukah gift for the grandchildren, however – unless one of your grandchildren has aspirations of becoming a mobster.

“Kaplan’s Plot”
by Jason Diamond
Flatiron Books
320 pages
Published September, 2025

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