[Pocket notebook, black leatherette, Harbourmaster's office issue. In Sven Gunderson's careful hand. Entries dated; names rendered as initials. Selected representative entries from 1920-1924. Kept in a tin in the woodshed at 117 Birch Street, the Ward.]

21 July 1920, Wed. Manifest of the Gitche Gummee declares "ballast only" stbd. fwd. hold. Vessel sat 6 inches lower at the waterline than vessels of her class with actual ballast ballast. Landed Quay 3 at 2:15 a.m. under H.P. supervision (Byrnes on the slip; K. not in evidence but the slip was closed to inspection). Unloaded by M.'s gang. Stevedores counted 40 crates overnight. Declared as "machine-turning lathes, cased." Lathes do not clink.

3 Aug 1920, Sun. Same pattern. Gitche Gummee again. 41 crates. Manifest now says "industrial component, cased."

9 Aug 1920. I asked Mr. Lindfors in the office on Monday why the G.G. no longer stops at Buffalo as she used to. He said she has new contracts at Windsor. He said it in the tone of a man saying something he had been told to say.

15 Sept 1920. First appearance of the Cadenza lorries at the slip. Four vehicles. Plate numbers photographed (mental): 4-14-77, 4-14-78, 4-14-79, 4-14-92. Drivers not familiar; one I recognized from Doyle's (Attilio, Rizzo's bookkeeper, driving #78). Lorries labeled "Cadenza & Sons — Munitions Test" on the tailgate, which makes no sense to me; munitions are tested at the Army's range at Hampton, not at a dock in Ironside at three in the morning.

November 1920. Pattern established at approximately one landing every 7-10 nights. Always a vessel whose manifest claims ballast or generic industrial cargo. Always Quay 3. Always the night hours (midnight to 4 a.m.). Always Byrnes on the slip (not K. personally, but K.'s man). Always M.'s gang unloading. Always the Cadenza lorries.

[two years of entries omitted, similar pattern, approximately 40 additional landings logged through 1922]

12 January 1923. I have begun totaling. From 21 July 1920 through last night: 143 landings of the pattern, across 11 named vessels. Crates per landing average 35. If a crate is whisky at wholesale Montreal rates of $110/crate, and is worth at Port Hume retail pricing of $190/crate, and if the Prohibition-premium at the actual retailer takes the figure to $240/crate — I have read an article in a Toronto paper — then what is moving through Quay 3 alone, by my count, is:

143 × 35 × ($240 − $110) = 143 × 35 × $130 = approximately $650,000 of margin across the forty-two months of the arrangement.

That is what is moving in my vicinity. I have written this figure here and not elsewhere.

14 January 1923. I have, in six months, seen Mr. B. (F.B.) directly three times on the slip. On one of those three occasions — the landing of 9 November 1922 — I was on the slip myself because of a discrepancy in the harbormaster's evening tally, and Mr. B. looked at me across the slip for what might have been fifteen seconds and did not speak. I have since been careful to be elsewhere when the G.G. or her sisters come in.

4 February 1923. Mrs. Frye at H.S. left for Buffalo in Nov 1921, I have since learned from Mrs. Pomfret, at a speed that was not her ordinary speed. Mrs. Frye is the switchboard operator. She heard things. I have not tried to learn what she heard. Attempting to learn would bring me to Mr. B.'s attention more directly than I have already brought myself. My wife tells me I am a fool to keep this notebook at all. My wife is correct. I continue to keep it.

17 June 1923. Mr. Tallant at Bethel asked me on Sunday, after the service he was visiting, whether I had "ever had occasion to look at the night books of the Line." I said I had not. He said neither had he. He said this with a small smile and said no more. Something else is going on that he has noticed on the Pullman run. He and I have not spoken of this again but I mark the conversation here because I do not believe he asked me idly.

12 February 1924. One hundred seventy-seven landings of the pattern, as of last night. I have not yet devised a means of moving this record to anyone who could act upon it without making myself the man who did so. Mrs. Applegate at the Settlement House said to me once, in a conversation about unrelated matters, that "the hardest thing in public life is to give information safely." She was speaking of her own difficulty in placing a story with a sympathetic editor. I took the remark away. I have not yet found the means.

[notebook continues. No further entries reproduced. Notebook is still in the tin, still in the woodshed, still unread by anyone but Sven and, on one occasion of household cleaning that he regrets, his wife.]