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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 10,000 – making 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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- Regular tournaments with cash prizes and trophies
- The annual GTCC (GameZone Tongits Championship Cup), a prestigious event drawing top players from around the world
- Daily and weekly challenges with in-game rewards
- Leaderboards to track your progress and compare skills with other players
These competitive elements add an extra layer of excitement to the Tongits experience, giving players goals to strive for beyond individual matches.
5. Vibrant Community Features
GameZone isn’t just a platform for playing cards; it’s a social hub for Tongits enthusiasts. The platform includes:
- In-game chat features for friendly banter during matches
- Forums for discussing strategies, sharing tips, and organizing games
- Regular community events and challenges
- A friend system to connect with fellow players
These social features recreate the camaraderie of playing Tongits in person, fostering a sense of community among players from diverse backgrounds.
Mastering Tongits on GameZone: Strategy Tips
Whether you’re new to Tongits or looking to refine your skills, these tips will help you excel on GameZone:
1. Perfect Your Timing for Knocking
Knowing when to “knock” (end the game early) is crucial. It’s a delicate balance between minimizing your points and not giving opponents the chance to go out. Pay attention to the flow of the game and the cards being discarded to make informed decisions.
2. Master Card Counting
Keep track of discarded cards to deduce what your opponents might be holding. This information is invaluable for making strategic decisions about which cards to keep or discard.
3. Build Flexible Sets
Aim for sets and runs that can be easily modified. For example, if you have 5-6-7, look for 4 or 8 to extend your options. This flexibility increases your chances of going out quickly.
4. Manage Your High Cards
High-value cards (K, Q, J) can be a liability if an opponent knocks. If these cards don’t fit into your strategy, consider discarding them early to minimize potential point loss.
5. Adapt to Different Game Modes
Each GameZone variant requires slightly different strategies. In Tongits Joker, for instance, save your jokers for critical moments rather than using them early. In Tongits Quick, be more aggressive in forming sets due to the reduced card count.
6. Practice Regularly
Like any skill, proficiency in Tongits comes with practice. Take advantage of GameZone’s 24/7 availability to play regularly and experiment with different strategies.
Conclusion: Join the Tongits Revolution
Tongits on GameZone represents the perfect fusion of traditional card gaming and modern technology. With its diverse game modes, fair play guarantees, exciting tournaments, and vibrant community, it offers an unparalleled gaming experience for Tongits lovers of all levels.
Whether you’re looking to relive childhood memories, challenge yourself against top players, or simply enjoy a fun card game with friends, GameZone’s Tongits platform has something for everyone. The nonstop action, combined with the strategic depth of Tongits, creates an addictive and rewarding experience that keeps players coming back for more.
So why wait? Join the millions of players already enjoying Tongits on GameZone. Download the app or visit the website today, and immerse yourself in the world of nonstop Tongits action. Who knows? You might just become the next Tongits champion!
Remember, in the world of online Tongits, every hand is an opportunity, every match a new adventure. See you at the virtual card table!
Features
Ottawa police detective Akiva Geller and the case of the famed purloined Yousef Karsh photograph

By MYRON LOVE It had all the elements of a novel, heist movie or televison episode – a brazen art thief and forger, an iconic work of art, secret storage lockers, DNA and an international trail of crumbs to follow ..and Ottawa police service detective (also a former Winnipegger) Akiva Geller was right in the middle of the action.
The case revolved around the theft from the Fairmont Chateau Laurier Hotel of an iconic photograph of Winston Churchill, taken in 1941, \by the world famous photographer Yousef Karsh. Karsh and his wife, Estrellita, lived at the classy hotel for 18 years. Toward the end of his life, the photographer donated that print – “The Roaring Lion” – along with several others to the hotel. The print, valued at $20,000, was hung in the hotel’s reading room. It was reported stolen – and replaced with a forgery – in the summer of 2022.
Geller joined the Ottawa police force in 2012 following a 14-year career in the Canadian military.
He recalls that he initially considered becoming a pharmacist. He was inspired to change his plans by the yeoman work of the Canadian soldiers who helped stem the tide during the great flood here in 1997.
“That kind of community service resonated with me,’ he says. “I appreciated the hands-on aspect of it all.”
He enlisted the next year.
While serving in the military largely in a series of administrative and teaching capacities, Geller began taking classes at Algonquin College in security management that led to his taking a criminology program – and degree – at Carleton University.
He left the military in 2012 to join the Ottawa police force. He began his policing career as a patrol officer. He was promoted to the investigative branch in 2020.
Now, unlike what we may see on television, being a police detective is not a case of investigating the murder of the week. Geller notes that much of his time is spent looking into suspicious deaths – including overdoses. A high profile case such as the Karsh photo heist comes along once in a lifetime for most police detectives.
This articular story begins, according to Geller, somewhere between late December 2021, and mid-January 2023, when an individual who has since been identified as Jeffrey Wood,walked into the hotel, removed the framed portrait print from the wall, and replaced it with a copy on which Wood had forged Karsh’s signature. At the time, the hotel was largely shut down due to the Covid lockdowns; thus few people were around.
The switch wasn’t discovered, Geller reports, until the following August, when hotel engineer Bruno Lair noticed that the framed print was a little off kilter. When he went to straighten it, he saw that the portrait was hung by a wire – with holes in the wall where screws had held the portrait in place.
“Wood was identified as the seller after we obtained the response to a ‘Mutual Legal Assistance Request’ sent o the United Kingdom,” Geller recalls. “In the response, Sotheby’s London gave us his information, including scanned copies of his passport and IDs.”
The Hotel GM and staff contacted the Yousuf Karsh estate and spoke to the director, Jerry Fielder, who, it was assumed, could verify whether the fraudulent portrait signature was forged, Geller continues. He was sent a picture of the signature and fake portrait, confirmed it was forged and that the portrait was a fake. The hotel reported the theft of the authentic Roaring Lion to Ottawa Police, at which time
Geller began his investigation. Geller goes on to say: “In searching for the authentic portrait I sourced two photos of the authentic portrait on the wall before it was stolen, one from Trip Advisor and the other from Twitter. Both had the portrait signature clearly visible so I could compare them to other signatures I found.
“I came across the Sotheby’s London Auction from May 2022 in which a portrait with a very similar size and signature was sold,” Geller says. “I compared the signature to the ones I sourced from online and determined they were the same. I asked Library and Archives Canada to assist in examining the fake print and also in comparing the signatures. While signature analysis is not in their expertise, they were able to advise that it was highly probable that they were the same. With this I was able to complete a Mutual Legal Assistance Request to the United Kingdom for assistance in obtaining the details of the Sotheby’s Auction. London Metropolitan Police assisted in obtaining the information on the auction and sent it back to me here in Canada. This took almost a year to obtain because of the levels of approvals, editing and paperwork involved.”
Sotheby’s London’s documents identified the seller of the Roaring Lion portrait as well as details about him, communications they had with him and photographs of the portrait before it was obtained by Sotheby’s. Wood was identified as the seller.
“I wrote numerous production orders to all of Wood’s known bank accounts, phone numbers, and credit cards,” Geller recalls. “Once I received the return from his phone company I had to go line by line through his phone bills. There I found a phone call to a storage unit here in Ottawa.”
I wrote a search warrant for the storage locker and a production order for the information on the locker and owner. I executed the search warrant and, in the locker, we found a second fake Churchill print,” he reports. “We also found a toothbrush which we believed would have Wood’s DNA on it. We sent the toothbrush directly to the Centre for Forensic Sciences in Ontario. They compared the DNA from the toothbrush to DNA obtained from inside the fake portrait which was put up in the real one’s place.”
The next piece of the puzzle was to reclaim the portrait to return it to the Chateau Laurier. The drawback here that the buyer of the portrait was an Italian lawyer – one Nicola Castinelli. In Italy, Geller notes, if you buy stolen items in good faith – in other words, if you didn’t know the item was stolen – you have a legal claim to the property, which would mean that you would have to be taken to court to have you relinquish it.
Geller reports that the Italian carabinieri in Rome sent officers to visit the buyer in Genoa and persuaded him to return the portrait in return for what he paid.
Wood was arrested last April. At his hearing on March 14, he pleaded guilty.
Geller reports that, although the maximum sentence is 14 years in prison, the prosecution is requesting of the court a two year sentence while his lawyer is asking for a suspended sentence.
As for the portrait, it was reframed and remounted at the chateau Laurier in the former reading room, which has been converted into a lounge. He adds that the hotel now has a lot more security in place.
“It was a nice reinstallation ceremony,” Geller says.
Mrs. Karsh (who is in her 90s) even wrote a letter to the hotel expressing her appreciation about the portrait being “back home”, he adds.
Features
Sheldon Adelson’s Campaign Against Online Gambling Regulation

Sheldon Adelson, the late billionaire casino magnate and founder of Las Vegas Sands Corporation, was a towering figure in the gambling industry and a polarizing force in the debate over online gambling regulation in the United States.
While many casino operators saw the internet as a new frontier for profit, Adelson waged a relentless campaign to block its legalization, citing moral, social, and business concerns.
His efforts, primarily channeled through the Coalition to Stop Internet Gambling, left a lasting impact on the regulatory landscape.
Let’s explore Adelson’s motivations, strategies, and the role of initiatives like Jackpot Sounds, a platform aggregating big online casino wins, in the broader context of the online gambling debate.
Jackpot Sounds: Celebrating Big Wins Amid the Debate
A 2023 report estimated that online gambling generated $5.7 billion in revenue in the U.S., a figure amplified by spotlighting success stories. It caused the rise of gamblers’ desire to address the big win replays. Platforms like Jackpot Sounds emerged, highlighting and aggregating big win replays as the enticement of online gambling.
The platform showcases real-time highlights of significant payouts, from slot machine jackpots to poker tournament victories, fostering community among online gamblers.
Jackpot Sounds captures the excitement of virtual jackpots, offering players a way to relive thrilling moments.
By curating content that celebrates high-stakes wins, Jackpot Sounds underscores the appeal that Adelson sought to suppress.
But what preceded this success of online gambling in the USA? How is Sheldon Adelson’s name related? While Adelson argued that such accessibility endangered society, Jackpot Sounds reflects the industry’s resilience and the public’s enthusiasm for digital gaming.
The Rise of Sheldon Adelson and His Casino Empire
Born on August 4, 1933, in Boston, Massachusetts, Sheldon Adelson grew up in modest circumstances.
By 12, he sold newspapers, showcasing an entrepreneurial spirit that defined his career. By 1995, Adelson had amassed wealth through ventures like the Comdex trade show, which he sold for $860 million.
He then focused on the casino industry, founding Las Vegas Sands Corporation. By 2019, his net worth was estimated at $35 billion, making him one of the world’s wealthiest individuals. His flagship properties, including The Venetian Las Vegas and Marina Bay Sands in Singapore, solidified his status as a global casino titan.
Adelson’s influence extended beyond business. A major Republican Party donor, he contributed over $90 million to political campaigns in 2012 alone, earning the moniker “kingmaker.”
His financial clout gave him significant leverage in Washington, D.C., which he later wielded in his fight against online gambling.
Adelson’s Stance on Online Gambling
Adelson’s opposition to online gambling emerged publicly in 2013, when he declared his intent to block its legalization in the U.S. Unlike competitors like Caesars Entertainment and MGM Resorts, who embraced online platforms, Adelson argued that internet gambling posed unique risks. In a June 2013 Forbes article, he claimed it could lead to financial ruin for vulnerable individuals, including those with student debt.
He also expressed concerns about underage access and the potential for money laundering, calling online gambling “a danger to society.”
Critics, however, pointed to a potential conflict of interest. Adelson’s brick-and-mortar casinos thrived on in-person gambling, and online platforms threatened to divert revenue.
A 2001 Las Vegas Sun article revealed that Adelson had once supported online poker, suggesting his later opposition might have been strategic. By 2014, he was unequivocal, stating, “I am willing to spend whatever it takes” to stop online gambling.
The Coalition to Stop Internet Gambling
In January 2014, Adelson launched the Coalition to Stop Internet Gambling (CSIG), a lobbying group designed to rally support for a federal ban on online gambling.
Headed by prominent figures like former New York Governor George Pataki, former Arkansas Senator Blanche Lincoln, and former Denver Mayor Wellington Webb, CSIG aimed to influence lawmakers and the public.
The coalition’s website warned that online gambling “crosses the line of responsible gaming” by bringing casinos into “living rooms and smartphones.”
CSIG employed aggressive tactics, including:
- Media Campaigns: In February 2014, CSIG released an ad titled “Don’t Let the Games Begin,” claiming online gambling could fund terrorism and harm families.
- Lobbying Efforts: By 2015, CSIG had enlisted dozens of lobbyists, including former Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour, to push for legislation.
- Political Alliances: Adelson secured support from governors like Rick Scott of Florida, who received $750,000 in campaign contributions from Adelson between 2010 and 2014.
The coalition’s efforts gained traction. In March 2014, 16 state attorneys general co-signed a letter to Congress urging a ban on online gaming. CSIG also influenced the American Gaming Association, which dropped its support for online gambling in 2014 after pressure from Adelson.
Legislative Push: The Restoration of America’s Wire Act
Adelson’s campaign focused on reinstating a broad interpretation of the 1961 Wire Act, which prohibited interstate wagering.
In 2011, the Department of Justice (DOJ) had issued an opinion stating the Wire Act applied only to sports betting, opening the door for states like New Jersey, Delaware, and Nevada to legalize online gambling. Adelson sought to reverse this.
On March 26, 2014, Senator Lindsey Graham and Representative Jason Chaffetz introduced the Restoration of America’s Wire Act (RAWA), a bill backed by Adelson to ban most forms of online gambling.
The legislation gained co-sponsors, including Senators Dianne Feinstein and Marco Rubio, and was reintroduced in February 2015. Adelson met House Speaker John Boehner in January 2015 to push RAWA, leveraging his $13.2 million in donations to Republican causes in 2014.
Despite these efforts, RAWA faced opposition from a coalition of casino operators, poker players, and states’ rights advocates.
By 2016, the bill had stalled in Congress, unable to overcome resistance from figures like New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, who legalized online gambling in his state in 2013.
Adelson’s Influence on the Department of Justice
Adelson’s campaign reached a high point in 2018, when the DOJ revisited its 2011 Wire Act opinion.
On November 2, 2018, the DOJ’s Office of Legal Counsel issued a new memo, released publicly on January 14, 2019, declaring that the Wire Act applied to all forms of online gambling, not just sports betting.
This reversal threatened the legal frameworks in states like New Jersey and Pennsylvania, which had generated $200 million in tax revenue from online gambling by 2017.
The timing raised suspicions. Adelson and his wife, Miriam, donated $113 million to Republican causes in 2016, including $20 million to Donald Trump’s campaign. In January 2017, then-Attorney General Jeff Sessions, who received campaign support from Adelson, expressed shock at the 2011 opinion and vowed to review it.
A February 2017 memo from former CSIG lobbyist Charles Cooper mirrored the DOJ’s 2018 arguments, prompting speculation of Adelson’s influence. In 2019, New Jersey and Pennsylvania attorneys general filed Freedom of Information Act requests seeking evidence of lobbying by CSIG and Adelson.
Resistance and Industry Pushback
Adelson’s efforts faced significant opposition. Caesars, MGM, and the American Gaming Association formed the Coalition for Consumer and Online Protection (C4COP) in February 2014 to counter CSIG’s narrative.
Led by former Representative Mary Bono and former Financial Services Committee Chairman Mike Oxley, C4COP argued that regulation, not prohibition, ensured consumer safety. A January 2014 poll by North Star Opinion Research, commissioned by C4COP, found that 74% of voters favored state-by-state legalization over a federal ban.
The Poker Players Alliance also mobilized, urging members to flood lawmakers’ social media with pro-gambling messages.
By 2015, states like Nevada, New Jersey, and Delaware had generated $2 billion in online gambling revenue, bolstering arguments for regulation. Critics like Jan Jones Blackhurst of Caesars called Adelson’s approach “counterproductive,” accusing him of fostering an unregulated black market.
Adelson’s Legacy and Ongoing Impact
Sheldon Adelson passed away on January 11, 2021, at the age of 87, but his campaign against online gambling left a complex legacy. While RAWA never passed, the 2018 DOJ memo slowed the expansion of online gambling, creating uncertainty for operators.
By 2023, only seven states had fully legalized online casino gaming, compared to 38 for sports betting, partly due to Adelson’s influence.
However, the industry continued to grow. A 2024 report projected U.S. online gambling revenue to reach $7.6 billion by 2026.
Adelson’s moral arguments resonated with some lawmakers, but critics viewed his campaign as defending his land-based empire. As Mary Bono noted in 2014, “It’s impossible to stand in the way of the internet.”
Conclusion
Sheldon Adelson’s battle against online gambling, spearheaded by the Coalition to Stop Internet Gambling, was a high-stakes effort to shape the industry’s future. From launching CSIG in 2014 to influencing the DOJ in 2018, Adelson used his wealth and political connections to advocate for a federal ban.
Yet, platforms like Jackpot Sounds highlight the enduring appeal of online gambling, celebrating wins that Adelson sought to curtail. While he delayed regulation in some areas, the momentum for legalization persisted, reflecting the challenges of containing a digital revolution.
Adelson’s story is a testament to the power—and limits—of influence in a rapidly changing world.