The Pink Pill People: The Rise and Rifts of the Fulford Dynasty
A deep dive into a Brockville family’s journey from iron pills to empire and the greed that tore them apart.
It all starts with George.
In Brockville, Ontario, George Taylor Fulford wasn’t about to follow the well-trodden path. Born in 1852 to a family skilled in the art of hustle — from innkeeping to marble dealing — George was the runt of the litter with the loftiest of ambitions. Growing up in this mix of grit and grind, George was fueled by a desire to forge his own path. He was determined to carve a name for himself out of something a bit lighter than stone.
Enter Mary Wilder White (born 1856), the Wisconsin socialite who caught George's eye. Despite her parents' attempts to keep her away from the working-class Brockville boy, love (and his ability to make tons of money) prevailed through a decade of letter-writing. Their union, marked by perseverance and passion, led to a family saga filled with ambition, tragedy, and triumph.
Together, they raised a family that could've stepped right out of a Victorian drama — complete with the socialite, spiritualist mother, the politically ambitious golden-boy son, two daughters fighting over the will, and enough family intrigue to keep the town whispering for generations.
The firstborn daughter is Dorothy Marsten Fulford, who was born in 1881. She was perhaps the more severe and ambitious of the two daughters. The second born was Martha Harris Fulford, born in 1883 and more seemingly driven by love and happiness, the favorite of George but led a tragic life, and then there's George II, the miracle heir born to a 46-year-old Mary in 1902.
George's leap from a small-town apothecary to the kingpin of a patent medicine empire is a tale of foresight, innovation, and sheer determination. His big break came with purchasing the patent Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Pale People for $53.01, a remedy George transformed from a simple tonic into a global sensation.
Positively cures all diseases arising from impoverished blood or disordered nerves. — Pink Pills for Pale People Advert from 1900–1901
The pill was hardly anything more than an iron pill coated in sugar, so no, it didn't cure everything, and it was weaker than the iron pills doctors prescribed, but at least there wasn't arsenic or lead in it. The pills did make people feel at least a bit better, considering nearly everyone had anemia.
The pills were sold in 87 different countries all over the world.
With a flair for marketing that would make Don Draper tip his hat, George turned Pink Pills into a household name. He invested heavily in ads, securing years of advertising space in advance and spending £200,000 (over 7 million pounds in today's money) a year to ensure the Pink Pills were a household name. His advertisements were designed to distance Pink Pills from the quackery often associated with patent medicines, presenting them as a legitimate, "scientifically-backed" remedy for various ailments.
But George wasn't just about the pills. He was a Renaissance man who dipped his toes in politics, rubbed shoulders with the likes of Sir Wilfrid Laurier, and even found his way into the Senate through a generous "donation" of $5,000 to the Prime Minister. Meanwhile, he remained Brockville's most influential philanthropist, giving back to the community that had set the stage for his empire.
Fulford Place: The Mansion That Could Give Downton Abbey a Run for Its Money
Not really, but almost.
So, the Fulfords hit it big, and what do you do when you're swimming in cash in late 19th-century Canada? You build a mansion that screams, "We've arrived," right on the St. Lawrence River. Enter Fulford Place, not your average four-walls-and-a-roof, but a sprawling 20,000 square feet of "look at me.”
In 1898, the Fulfords commissioned architect A.W. Fuller to design their dream home. The result? A Beaux-Arts beauty that's less of a house and more of a statement piece.
And the gardens? George went to New York and thought, "I really like this big garden," so he hired the Olmsted Brothers, the literal designers of Central Park, who waved their magic wands, creating an Italianate garden with an ornate gargoyle fountain and English gardens that rolled down to the river.
This place had it all: a grand hall that probably echoed with the sounds of high society, a Honduran mahogany dining room with hand-painted leather friezes big enough to serve an army (or at least thirty ravenous guests), coffered walnut ceilings in the Study and a sweeping veranda that offered views you'd want to write home about — if you ever left, that is.
For the men, they had a Moorish-style smoking room for the gents to puff away in peace, decked out with silk tapestries and a tin ceiling because, well, why not? And let's not forget the billiard room, where many "gentlemanly disagreements" were settled.
For the ladies, there was a Marie Antoinesque, rococo-style drawing room with Japanese lacquer cabinets, more silk tapestries, and a Steinway piano for those evenings filled with music and maybe a little gossip.
Oh, and the Fulfords didn't just dominate on land. They took to the water with The Magedoma, a luxury steam yacht that was basically a floating palace. This 138 ft beauty had everything: double staterooms, dining and drawing rooms, and yes, even quarters for the captain and engineer.
Now that you have the picture let's get into it.
Before the Pills Turned Bitter: Four Years of Bliss
In the early 1900s, George and his daughters embarked on what could only be described as the ultimate family vacation, a nine-month world tour stretching from the sands of Egypt to the bustling streets of Japan. Amid this globetrotting adventure in 1901–02, Mary was alone, back home, expecting a new addition to the family, the boy and heir. Family lore recounts how Mary excused herself while dining with Prime Minister Sir Wilfred Laurier at Fulford Place, delivered baby George, and returned in time for dessert. This anecdote is impossible to prove and is probably not true, but that’s what the story was.
George's daughter, Dorothy, tied the knot with the cow-obsessed Arthur Charles Hardy, a barrister with a lineage as distinguished as a vintage Bordeaux, on September 13th, 1904. It wasn't just any wedding; it was THE wedding, marking the first grand fête at Fulford Place. The newlyweds were gifted Thornton Cliff, a Scottish baronial estate with Tudor flair, kick-starting their life together with four kids and an address to impress.
Martha, or Mattie as affectionately known, played the waiting game in love, her heart set on George Sherriff, the local heartthrob and heir to the Sherriff Manufacturing empire. Their prolonged courtship, lasting over seven years, finally ended after Dorothy's wedding, freeing Mattie to plan the wedding and marry her childhood sweetheart.
Then, George T. Fulford died.
Love, Death, and Lawsuits
Just a little over a year after the grand spectacle of Dorothy's wedding, two years after welcoming a son into the world, and four years after his dream home's completion, George became Canada's first recorded casualty of the automobile age in October 1905.
As George lay in his hospital bed, grappling with his mortality, he penned a will that was as much a love letter to his family as it was a blueprint for the future. Ensuring each child would inherit one-third of his estate, his three-year-old son would inherit the most and the house with Mary at the helm, acting as a sort of regent queen until the boy could take over. This wasn’t just estate planning; it was legacy crafting with a twist, ensuring his children had a yearly allowance until they hit 25; at this point, they’d cash in on their inheritance, setting the stage for future family drama.
It is important to note that the inheritance went strictly to the children Dorothy, Mattie, and George II and NOT their spouses.
The only money Senator Hardy and Martha’s future husband were entitled to was a loan for business that would have to be paid back into the estate. This was nothing short of revolutionary, considering the era’s norms where women owning property was unheard of — everything typically went straight to their husbands. But here’s where it gets interesting: Thornton Cliff, that magnificent property, wasn’t even in Senator Hardy’s name. Nope, it was Dorothy who held the title.
Senator George Fulford’s philanthropy was the stuff of legend, spreading generosity like fairy dust across the community. Hospitals, rowing clubs, churches, you name it. In a final act of benevolence, George ensured the nurses who attended to him in his final days in a Boston hospital each received $100 ($3,500 in today's money) for their efforts. It was a gesture that said, "Thanks for trying to save me," imbued with the kind of personal touch that today's billionaires might try to emulate with a tweet.¹
It gets sadder.
George Sherriff was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
This was not just another sad twist in their story but a deep, personal blow to Mattie, who had been waiting for her turn at happiness in a world that seemed to demand endless patience from her. In the stark reality of the diagnosis, the childhood sweethearts Sherriff and Mattie faced the kind of urgent decision nobody should have to make. With Sherriff's health declining, they turned to Mary for permission to marry — this wasn't about flouting social conventions but confronting the harsh immediacy of their situation. Granted this permission, they married in a quiet, private ceremony in the mansion's drawing room in January 1906, just three months after George Fulford's passing. This decision was rooted in necessity and love, a way to make the most of their precious little time together.²
The honeymoon to the Colonial Hotel in Nassau offered a brief escape, a short-lived dream where the reality of George Sherriff's illness was, perhaps, a little less sharp. Yet, the harsh truth awaited them upon their return. George's health deteriorated quickly, leading to his admission to St. Vincent de Paul Hospital for one last hopeful surgery. But hope is a fragile thing, and on March 9th, 1906, just two months after their quiet affirmation of love, Mattie's world was shattered by George's passing.³
The Will War: Sister vs. a Toddler Heir
In 1907, Dorothy, who couldn't have any worse timing, sued her freshly widowed sister, Mattie, and her five-year-old brother, George II, over the specifics of their father's will.
George Fulford Sr. had left a substantial fortune of $6 million ($200 million today), with the instructions that annuities be paid to each of his three children until they reached the age of 25. At that magic age, they were supposed to receive one-third of the estate’s surplus income. Dorothy (or, more accurately, Arthur) wasn’t having it. The Hardys spotted a loophole that they felt needed addressing — any income not handed out as annuities due to the children not yet being 25 shouldn’t just sit around waiting for them to age into it. Instead, the Hardys argued, this money should revert to the general estate for reinvestment. This interpretation conveniently benefited Dorothy (*Arthur), who was almost 25, at the expense of her recently widowed sister and their young brother, who would miss out on a significant portion of their inheritance.
Even Justice Riddell was taken aback by the implications of Dorothy’s actions, pointing out the stark outcome:
“If the contention of the other side is upheld, the son loses money, and the eldest daughter gains it because she becomes 25 years of age before the rest.”⁴
The fallout was palpable. Letters from the period reveal Mary’s heartache and disillusionment. She felt it was a betrayal, a decision by the Hardys that seemed unforgivable to Mary. They had a golden opportunity to show kindness and solidarity in a time of shared loss but chose a path that drove a wedge into the heart of the Fulford family.
Mary told Mackenzie King:
Now, let’s talk about cows.
Arthur Charles Hardy, Dorothy’s husband, found a new calling away from the political spotlight. Between 1905 and 1909, Arthur began to lay down roots in a different kind of field — literally — by purchasing parcels of land along Lyn Road, just outside Brockville. His acquisition of a 100-acre lot (using that business loan, no doubt) wasn’t just a whim but a deliberate step toward indulging his longstanding fascination with cattle.
Arthur’s interest in bovine beauty wasn’t just a casual hobby; it blossomed into a full-blown passion for breeding purebred cattle, culminating in the christening of his property as Avondale Farm, despite his burgeoning political career that would see him become a Senator. Even as a Senator and an eventual Speaker of the House, Arthur’s heart remained tethered to the pastoral rhythms of farm life. His visits varied — sometimes daily, other times weekly, or he’d just call to check on any new calves. He loved the calves. None of this is crucial to the story, but it’s cute, and I like it, so it’s included.
One of his cows won a Canadian record:
1952, one of our cows, ‘Avondale Alga’, broke the Canadian record for butter fat. The previous record was just slightly over 1000 pounds. The Canadian Jersey Cattle Club held a banquet in honour of this cow in the Manitonna Hotel in Brockville. — Arden Baker, Avondale Farm Manager
Love After Loss: Mattie Finds Love Again
Then, like a scene straight from a romantic film, a handsome man named Lt. Col. Charles W. MacLean is rowing on the St. Lawrence and happens upon Mattie. She’s the picture of leisure, sipping tea on the stern of her father’s grand steam yacht on its way to Lake Champlain. It’s an instant connection, a spark that ignites into love at first sight.
This would ultimately disappoint Mary and Sir Wilfred Laurier’s wife, as they had been trying to arrange for Mattie to marry William Lyon MacKenzie King.
Their wedding, held on July 28th, 1908, aboard the Magedoma in the Port of Montreal, was steeped in both romance and poignancy. With Senator Fulford’s tragic passing, Mattie was escorted down the aisle by none other than Sir Wilfrid Laurier, a close family friend and Canada’s Prime Minister at the time. The ceremony was marked by an elegant gift from the Magedoma’s crew, a sterling silver barometer, and a clock, symbolizing the crew’s high regard and affection for the couple. They lived together with Mary and young George II in Fulford Place.
Another Pillar Falls: The Fulford Family Faces Loss Once Again
Sorry, it gets sad again.
Martha fell pregnant with her first child, and during her pregnancy, she developed appendicitis. She died shortly after bringing their son into the world in 1910.
The brief life of their son, lasting only forty-eight hours, left Charlie MacLean not only a widower but also the heir to the Fulford fortune.⁵ He actually made sure he would be heir and took the matter to court, arguing that because his child and wife died, he was entitled to Martha’s 2 million dollar inheritance, which he won.
Charlie used “his” inheritance to build a maternity ward for Brockville General Hospital in 1912 in Martha’s name.⁶ Though, a significant amount built him a house (that looks a lot like Fulford Place) in Pointe-Claire.
In a conversation with Mackenzie King, Mary called MacLean’s actions “nasty.”
Mary Turns to Seances and Spiritualists for Comfort
Navigating through the tumultuous waves of loss, heartache, and greedy son-in-laws, Mary Fulford found solace in the ethereal realm of spiritualism and séances. Her journey into spiritualism wasn’t solitary; it was shared with William Lyon Mackenzie King, a man equally acquainted with personal loss. Together, with the assistance of Detroit spiritualist Etta Wreidt, they ventured into the unknown from the privacy of a dressing room nestled between Mary’s and Dorothy’s bedrooms.
Etta Wriedt, wielding a trumpet in the séance room’s enveloping darkness, claimed it was a conduit for spirits to communicate — producing noises and voices from the beyond. Charging attendees for the experience, one of her so-called spirit guides, “John Sharp” from 18th century Glasgow, became a regular phantom participant.⁷ However, the credibility of Wriedt’s séances was challenged when physicist Kristian Birkeland exposed the underlying mechanics of her spirit trumpet — revealing that the mysterious sounds were the result of chemical reactions, not spiritual communications.⁸ Despite this, these séances offered Mary something invaluable: a sense of connection and comfort amidst the shadows of grief.
Mary’s Magnum Opus: The Careful Crafting of George II’s Success
Mary’s grip on George II also got tighter after their string of tragedies.
George II’s educational journey took him from the halls of Brockville Public School to the esteemed classrooms of Trinity College School in Port Hope, then onto the University of Toronto, and finally to Harvard University for post-graduate work. It’s a resume that screams “prepped for success,” the kind of academic pedigree that would make any LinkedIn profile glow.
On September 30, 1926, he tied the knot with Josephine, the Washington D.C. daughter of J.J. Weller, and they moved into Fulford Place alongside Mary, setting the stage for a classic in-law dynamic that would give any modern-day sitcom a run for its money. Josephine’s entrance into the Fulford household was anything but smooth, with Mary’s disapproval simmering beneath the surface, primarily because Josephine was Catholic — a detail that old-school Mary couldn’t overlook.
This setup has all the makings of a “momma’s boy” narrative, with George II caught between the two leading ladies in his life. Mary, ever the social butterfly, continued to play hostess extraordinaire, transforming Fulford Place into what might as well have been an unofficial state residence. Her knack for entertaining brought in a parade of the era’s A-listers, from royalty to political heavyweights.
A memorable episode from this social saga was documented by Mackenzie King on August 5, 1927, detailing a visit from princes Edward and George. King couldn’t help but praise Josephine’s charm offensive with the royal guests, despite a comedic interlude involving Prince Edward’s guest, a local “Jones girl,” who apparently missed the memo on royal etiquette, providing some unintended entertainment.
George II and Josephine expanded the Fulford legacy with three children, George Taylor, Martha, and Dwight Wilder, navigating life’s ups and downs against the backdrop of their sprawling estate. George II’s professional life was as diversified as his social circle, holding titles from manufacturer to vice-president and director across a range of businesses, not to mention his stints in politics — showcasing a rollercoaster career that saw him bouncing between legislative bodies and corporate boardrooms.
His social memberships read like a directory of the elite, from the Rideau Club to the Royal Ottawa Golf Club, not forgetting his affiliations with the A.F. and A.M., Shriners, and I.O.O.F. Despite these high-society connections, political success was a mixed bag for George II, marked by victories and even more defeats.
Law, Loss, and the Wayward: The Varied Fates of Dorothy and Senator Hardy’s Children
“a nemesis has followed that marriage and subsequent happenings.” — Mackenzie King on Dorothy and Arthur Hardy’s marriage, 1933.
Arthur Sturgis Hardy and Dorothy Patricia Hardy
Arthur Sturgis Hardy, the first of the bunch, entered the world on June 19th, 1905. Following his father’s footsteps, Arthur took to the courts, not with a racket but as a sharp-witted barrister. He won the heart of Josephine Klotz, a doctor’s daughter, and they tied the knot in Ottawa on a sunny day in June 1933.⁹ The couple set up shop in the esteemed Rockcliffe Park, living the kind of life that had neighbors nodding in approval. When Arthur checked out in 1969, he’d stacked up a cool $3 million. But instead of leaving it all to family, he threw a curveball and donated a hefty chunk to a sea museum.¹⁰
The youngest, Dorothy, was born in 1916 and had a couple of marriages in her lifetime. Her first marriage was to George McPhee in 1939, but unfortunately, it didn't last long as he moved to California. Despite the short-lived marriage, their wedding photos were pretty rad. Later, in 1940, she married James L. Elvidge.
Mary “Cici” Fulford Hardy Rogers
In December 1930, Mary Fulford Hardy Rogers’ story took an unexpected twist, ending just two years after her wedding to Ottawa’s Frankford Rogers in St. Peter’s Anglican Church at age 23. When they got the news, Dorothy and Senator Hardy, Cici’s jet-setting parents, were Europe-bound. They raced back, and Cici slipped away soon after they arrived, at 2:30 am.¹¹
The headlines screamed “accident,” suggesting Mary had confused the bichloride of mercury tablets for aspirin. Yet, whispers within the family hinted at a darker truth, suggesting her exit might not have been as accidental as the public was led to believe. In one of William Lyon MacKenzie’s diary entries, he mentions how Cici once threatened suicide when Frankford’s mother told her not to marry her son.
Known for turning heads and lighting up rooms, Cici’s departure left a void in the Capital’s social scene. A product of Bishop Strachan’s School in Toronto and a stint in Switzerland, she was as educated as she was enchanting.
Her husband, Frankford, President of Fruitatives Products Ltd, remained a widower until a heart seizure claimed him in their home at 251 Cooper Street when he was just 48 years old.¹²
Before the family moved to Cooper Street, they lived in the Hardy mansion at 443 Daly Avenue, Ottawa. A house, now the Polish Embassy, that, during WWII, got a new lease on life as a training base for the Women’s Royal Canadian Navy Service.
After Cici’s sudden departure, her one-year-old son, Ian, grew up without his mother. Ian would follow in his father’s footsteps. Ian didn’t just hit the books at law school in Ottawa; he also joined a band of adventurers on a mission straight out of a storybook — to unearth Captain Kidd’s legendary buried treasure.¹³ Ian’s quest took a dramatic turn when their schooner sank off the coast of England.
He, of course, never found the treasure.
Fulford Patrick Hardy
We have come to the problem child.
Fulford Patrick Hardy was the second youngest of Dorothy and Senator Hardy’s children, born in 1911. He “owned” and worked for the radio station C.H.M.L. from 1935 to 1942.
He had a penchant for teenage girls and married twice to two 16-year-olds.
In 1933, Fulford Patrick’s marital adventure kicked off with an impulsive decision that would make any parent’s heart race. He proposed to Betty Hill, a young student from the prestigious Branksome Hall Boarding School in Toronto. Typically, Betty would head home for the weekends, but one fateful weekend, Fulford had a different plan. Without a word to anyone, he whisked Betty away, aiming for Detroit to exchange vows, effectively throwing both their families into a state of alarm. Rumors of a kidnapping swirled, especially since Fulford’s “bride-to-be” was still very much underage.
The drama escalated when both sets of parents, frantic with worry, contacted the police in Michigan, suspecting foul play. However, due to Betty's age, Detroit’s marriage laws put a damper on their plans, forcing the couple to venture further to Indiana, where they found success. Their return to Detroit was met with a media frenzy and Fulford’s arrest on charges of kidnapping, a situation that was diffused only when the true nature of their escapade was revealed. Despite this, the marriage was annulled shortly after, marking an abrupt end to a whirlwind episode that left both families reeling.¹⁴
Fulford Patrick Cranks his Mother Over the Head with a Tire Iron.
In the very same year, 1933, the plot thickened dramatically for the Hardy family when Fulford Hardy found himself in the grips of Paris police. The charge? Assaulting his mother with a tire iron before speeding off into the night, yelling, “I am crazy, I am crazy!” When Fulford walked into the police station, he looked like he’d been in a scuffle, with scalp wounds and his clothes in disarray. He claimed he’d been attacked and possibly kidnapped, pleading amnesia over the entire incident, including the attack on his mother.¹⁵
Dorothy, meanwhile, was recuperating in Beaujon Hospital. Despite the alarming circumstances, her injuries were reported to be less severe than initially feared.
Dorothy told police:
“We had returned from a motor-drive Monday night when my son suddenly struck me from behind. The attack was unprovoked. My son had appeared quite calm. I don’t know why he struck me so savagely — a son to whom I had always been so good.” — Saskatoon Star-Phoenix, 14 Nov 1933
When Senator Arthur Hardy was questioned about the assault by the Canadian Press, he was devasted and shaking, responding:
“I cannot talk. This is the second tragedy in my life.” — Senator Arthur Hardy. Saskatoon Star-Phoenix, 14 Nov 1933
However, his charges were miraculously dropped. Fulford Patrick went straight from Sante prison, where he had been for weeks, to his father’s hotel before returning to Canada.¹⁶
Mary worried about Fulford Hardy’s treatment of Doris, believing him to be “insane.”
His Dad Bought him a Radio Company to Keep Him Under Control.
Senator Hardy purchased C.H.M.L. radio in December 1934, one month after the assault. He didn’t buy this as an investment but as a bribe, a company to give his son to keep Fulford Patrick contained and out of their lives.
Fulford Patrick would be in the papers again in October 1939. His Hamilton apartment had allegedly been broken into by men impersonating police officers and was “beaten, bound and gagged.”¹⁷ When the perpetrators were caught, they had only stolen 10 dollars, a suitcase, and a few small articles.
Pretty odd.
He then married another 16-year-old.
Senator Hardy had employed Frances Marlon Watson as the family’s maid.¹⁸
Not a year later, Frances comes home on a Sunday in 1951 to find Fulford Patrick dead. The coroner said it was heart-related and due to natural circumstances.¹⁹
George II Has a Midlife Crisis
Mary died in 1946, leaving the estate (and, unfortunately, the decision-making) to George II.
Yet, as the pages of time turned, so did the chapters of George’s personal life. The marriage with Josephine lost its spark (or so he told his young mistress), setting the stage for George’s mid-life crisis — a romance with Jutta Kruse, a young servant at the mansion, bridging a 38-year age gap. Jutta, or Judy, she liked to be called was a German immigrant hailing from Bad Oldesloe. There was overlap; it was a full-blown affair. Family rumor had it that a servant had caught them getting nasty in the dining room.
62-year-old, George II, Marries 24-year-old Maid
They married in a quiet ceremony in Mexico City in 1964, immediately after George's divorce.
This union, marked by its “ups and clowns,” persisted through the decades, surviving until 1984 when George and Judy opted for separate lives, though Judy remained present until George’s death in 1987.
Judy remains steadfast in her claim that their marriage was anchored in love, not financial gain. The narrative, however, wasn’t without its critics, particularly George Fulford III, who saw Judy not as a romantic partner but as the interloper who upended his parents’ marriage.
Judy, stepping into the Fulford saga as the so-called “younger woman” (younger than even the children, I might add), makes a case that her presence injected a certain zest into her older husband’s life, a sprinkle of excitement that, as she sees it, could only extend his years. She gets the side-eye for it, sure, but chalks it up to the natural order of things in a drama-rich inheritance story.
Senator Fulford left a will that reads like a treasure map, directing his son to enjoy the spoils of Fulford Place and its juicy estate profits during his lifetime. Yet, the real jackpot — a mansion bursting at the seams with history and valuables — was destined for his first-born grandson, George Fulford III. The rest of the senator’s growing fortune, which ballooned to a cool $21 million, was to be diced up equally among George III and his siblings.
Another Spouse Trying to “Take What’s Their’s”
Fast forward to after George II’s death, and Judy’s cut from this opulent pie amounts to about $700,000 after the dust settles from taxes and legal scuffles. George II, throughout his life, wasn’t just idly signing autographs. He was busy making promises on paper, including a gift deed that handed over a collection of paintings to Judy, not to mention a treasure trove of jewelry, furniture, and other household goodies. This didn’t sit well with Fulford III, who saw these giveaways as overstepping bounds — those treasures weren’t George II’s to give. He insists his quest wasn’t for personal gain but to return these items to their rightful spot in his grandfather’s abode.
Judy’s take on the whole art heist — excuse me, “inheritance dispute” — is that it was never about the art itself but the perks that came with it. She claims she was ready to hand over the paintings for a nice tax break but alleges Fulford III was eyeing that tax receipt for himself. The climax of this saga? A settlement where the heritage foundation scores the artwork, Fulford III bags the tax benefits, and Judy gets a consolation prize — a tax credit for some eclectic items ranging from a Buddha statue to assorted glassware, all destined for the foundation, too. Judy’s not thrilled with the deal but figured duking it out in court would be like bringing a knife to a gunfight.
Judy’s Art Heist
Judy, alongside a trusty sidekick, rocks up to the Fulford mansion under the guise of a casual photo op. The housekeeper, none the wiser, lets them in. But instead of capturing memories, they start lifting paintings off the walls. Even when the estate’s trust company rings in, Judy doesn’t flinch, armed with a document she claims backs her up. By the end of their visit, they’re 17 paintings richer, walking off with a haul worth north of $120,000. Judy insists this wasn’t theft but merely collecting what was promised to her by George II. through a deed of gift, a final love letter in the form of art.
Judy’s stance is firm: she was no art thief, just a widow with paperwork to back her claim. “I wouldn’t have gone in without the papers,” she asserts, drawing a line in the sand about her moral compass. But for George Fulford III, Judy’s daring daylight raid on the family’s art collection was the final breach. It sparked a legal battle royale, pitting stepmother against stepson, with the family estate and its trustees caught in the crossfire. This wasn’t just a lawsuit; it was a family feud set in courtrooms, dragging on for four bitter years until a behind-the-scenes settlement pulled the plug on what could’ve been an epic courtroom drama.²⁰
Speaking with docents at Fulford Place Museum, Judy has been known to visit and brag about the things she stole without anyone knowing.
Fulford Place Museum and The Ontario Heritage Trust
George II held the reins of Fulford Place right up until his last breath. In a grand gesture, he passed the baton to the Ontario Heritage Foundation, now known as Ontario Heritage Trust. Following his departure, his widow and son, George Taylor Fulford III, donated the mansion’s treasure trove of original contents. But maintaining such a sprawling estate was no small feat. George Taylor Fulford II found himself carving up the property, selling off bits and pieces to keep the lights on in the grand old house. Ultimately, they faced the music: turning the mansion into a museum was the only way to preserve Senator Fulford’s vision without breaking the bank.
Thanks to the Trust’s meticulous restoration efforts, the doors of Fulford Place swung open as a historic house museum in 1993, offering the public a peek into the past. What sets this museum apart is its authenticity, painstakingly pieced together using insurance photos from 1901. This wasn’t just a guessing game but a deliberate effort to mirror the mansion’s original splendor, ensuring everything from the furniture to the dinnerware was the real deal. Visitors today can marvel at the same sights the Fulfords once did, including a Steinway piano, a gift to Mary Fulford, and a stunning Tiffany Dragon Fly Lamp. It’s a rare chance to step into a slice of history — untouched, unreplicated, and utterly unforgettable.
You should visit.
Conclusion
The Fulford tale is a rollercoaster of high stakes and higher drama. New spouses scheming for a slice of the Fulford fortune, court battles that could rival any legal drama, attempted murder charges, and suicide. Throw in some royal visits to spice up the mix and watered-down iron pills, and you’ve got a story that keeps giving. Love, death, and the pursuit of inheritance — it’s all in a day’s work for the Fulfords, making their family history anything but dull.
Footnotes
[1] Newton Nurses, Boston Evening Transcript. (Mar 27, 1906)
[2] Wedding of Miss Mattie Fulford, The Montreal Gazette. (Jan 8, 1906)
[3] George Sherriff Dies in Hosptial, St. John Daily Sun. (Mar 10, 1906)
[4] Thirteen Lawyers Engaged in Construing the Will of Late Senator, Dawson Daily News. (Jan 8, 1908)
[5] Death Regalls a Romantic Wedding, The Daily Telegraph. (Jan 7, 1910)
[6] C. W. Maclean to Build Wing in Memory of His Wife, The Montreal Gazette. (10 Jan 1911)
[7] Centennial Book of Modern Spiritualism in America, Victoria Barnes. National Spiritualist Association of United States of America. (1948). p. 148
[8] Religion for a New Era: Open Mind or a Hole in the Head? Terje Emberland, Arnfinn Pettersen. (2006). pp. 257–258
[9] Ottawa Social Notes, The Montreal Gazette. (9 Jun 1933)
[10] Lawyer’s Millions For Sea Museum, Quebec Chronicle-Telegraph. (16 Aug 1969)
[11] Death Occurred Early Today of Mrs. F. Rogers, Ottawa Citizen. (6 Dec 1930)
[12] Frankford Rogers Dies Unexectantly at Ottawa Home, Ottawa Citizen. (16 Feb 1946)
[13] Gold Hunters Undaunted By Loss Of Ship, Ottawa Citizen. (29 Dec 1951)
[14] Senator’s Son and Youthful Bride, The Border Cities Star. (9 Jan 1933)
[15] Senator’s Son Faces Pariscourt, Saskatoon Star-Phoenix. (14 Nov 1933)
[16] Senator’s Son Freed, Saskatoon-Star Phoenix. (8 Dec 1933)
[17] Senator Hardy’s Son Robbed, Assaulted in Hamilton, The Montreal Gazette. (3 Oct 1939)
[18] Senator’s Son Marries Maid, Ottawa Citizen. (18 Jan 1950)
[19] Senator’s Son Dead, Ottawa Citizen. (16 Apr 1951)
[20] The Fight at Fulford Place, Ottawa Citizen. (10 Nov 1992)
