*

By “CENTERLINE”
*

VANCOUVER IS a large cosmo-
politan city. In common with other
centres of teeming population, it is
cold and aloof to the lonely. The
crowds about the streets, the bustle
and activity, the brightly lit store
windows, the chattering groups, all
throw into sharp contrast the com-
plete isolation of the friendless. The
crowds are but a gallery of pictures,
meaningless and devoid of any inter-
est in the lonely watcher. As a small
boy wistfully watches the others at
play in a game from which he is
excluded, the stranger in a big city
is overwhelmed with a feeling of
being unwanted, an outcast, a person
isolated and solitary.

Yearning for someone to care for,
and in turn to be loved, the friend-
less try to break through the cold
wall of indifference surrounding
them. But too often they fall back,
rejected, and more lonely than ever.
For such as these, victims of selfish-
ness and neglect, there is only one
possible solution, the ‘‘Lonely Hearts
Club” or the ‘‘Correspondence
Club.’’ Most of our big cities have
one or more of these so-called clubs,
where for a fee, the wistful Romeo
is given an introduction in person or
by mail to an equally lonely lady.

* Ok *

Toward the end of 1945, a man
in his middle sixties sat in his room-
ing house, lonely and friendless. Re-
cently arrived in town from a Van-
couver Island logging camp, he was
undergoing treatment for an eye in-
jury. By occupation a camp cook,
the man longed for a home of his
own, and a loving wife to look after

TWENTIETH EDITION

him in the evening of his life. So,
taking the only course open to him,
he joined a matrimonial correspon-
dence club. He advised the club that
he had modest means and would
welcome correspondence from a lady
who had a farm so that he could set-
tle down from his nomadic and
goaless existence.

Lonely Hearts Clubs oper-
ate in most of our big cities
and generally members are
honest persons seeking genu-
ine companionship. But all
too often uncrupulous confi-
dence men join these clubs
to prey upon the unfortunate

members. This story tells how
one of these scoundrels was
brought to justice.

*

To avoid embarrassment
to parties concerned the
names of all characters, ex-
cept Roediger, have been
altered in this narrative.

A week or two later the club fur-
nished him with the name of a lady
living on a farm at Cloverdale, a
prosperous farming community 20
miles from Vancouver. A few letters
followed and it was suggested that
the lonely individual call upon the
lady at her home. Following the
suggestion the man went to Clover-
dale and paid his respects to the lady.
He told her that he was a widower

and had been a prosperous farmer on
the Prairies, but lately had been
working in the camps of Vancou-
ver Island. He wished to settle on the
Coast and marry someone to share
the remaining years of his life and
his modest capital. His name, he
told the lady, was George Roediger,
and as he spoke his manner was char-
acterized by a manner engaging and
continental in politeness. The lady,
a Mrs. Lawrence, was intrigued by
his affability and frankness in ap-
proaching so delicate a subject. She
in turn told Roediger that her hus-
band had been a farmer but had died
some years before leaving her the
farm on which she resided. Operat-
ing the farm all alone with her son
for a number of years, the place had
afforded a comfortable living for
them and was free of debt. Donald,
the boy, now a young man, had
managed well. Several pieces of
farming machinery had been pur-
chased to facilitate cultivation of the
thirty acres of good Fraser Valley
land.

A ROMANCE AND AN ARGUMENT

Several meetings took place at the
end of 1945, and as the winter ad-
vanced, Roediger became a constant
caller at the farm. Both mother and
son took to this kindly gentleman
who treated the mother with the
greatest respect and the son with a
fatherly affection. [he young man
realized his mother had been too
long without the companionship of
a man close to her own age, and
watched the courtship blossom into
romance.

Undoubtedly a strong man, Roe-
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