In the soap opera Montreal PQ, which takes place in post-war Montreal, the police chief protects a brothel keeper who has become his mistress. The reality was not always as juicy as Victor-Lévy Beaulieu’s television series, but it is true that at the time, the police turned a blind eye to prostitution and illegal gambling, then controlled by the mafia.
Montreal was comparable to Las Vegas in the 1940s. Its wild nights attracted tourists and celebrities from all over the world. The assassination in broad daylight of mafia boss Harry Davis, in his bar on Stanley Street, however, marked a turning point in July 1946: calls for a major clean-up of the “vice business” which reigned in the city were multiplied.
Journalist Sophie Langlois, from Radio-Canada — assigned to TV news by Céline Galipeau after having been a correspondent in Africa — takes a personal look at this well-known chapter of Montreal history. In the podcast Vices and truths. In the shadow of Red Lightshe and her team look back on this era through the adventures of Albert Langlois, the journalist’s grandfather, who was chief of police during this turbulent period.
This former soldier, medalist for “exceptional” service during the two great wars, arrived at the police with a reputation for unfailing integrity. By a combination of circumstances, however, it lost its luster following the cleaning of the Red Light Montrealer.
“Corrupt police officer or honest man? » Sophie Langlois breaks a family taboo by delving into the story of her grandfather. She did not know him since she was born shortly after his death, in 1964. But in the family, no one talks about Albert since he was flayed in 1954 by the famous Caron commission, “the investigation of the century” on corruption in Montreal.
“Albert Langlois was described as a generous grandfather and an upright man, deeply hurt by the accusations against him. My goal is not to clear my grandfather, but to discover the truth,” says Sophie Langlois in the six-episode podcast, online on the Radio-Canada website starting Wednesday, May 29.
Journalist and director Alexandra Viau literally take us into the atmosphere of the 1940s using musical archives as well as excerpts from interviews and speeches from the time. We even hear Albert Langlois talking about his vision of the police.
The two accomplices scoured the archives of the City of Montreal and those of Radio-Canada to unearth thousands of pages of transcription from the Caron commission, sound extracts and unpublished documents. They also interviewed historians, people who knew Albert Langlois and witnesses of the time, including Dominique Michel, the publisher Alain Stanké and even a “ cigarette girl » who worked in a cabaret in Red Light.
law of silence
As a simple peace officer and subsequently chief of the Montreal police, Albert Langlois crossed swords with two of the most famous people of the time, who had made it their mission to reestablish law and order. order in the metropolis. The future mayor Jean Drapeau and the lawyer Pacifique Plante were appointed prosecutors of the Caron commission on the “commercialization of vice”. And they took their role very seriously.
Albert Langlois testified no less than 24 times before judge François Caron for his role in the fight against “vice”. Hesitating, stammering to protect his men, he had been mistreated by the prosecutors Drapeau and Plante, true vigilantes without fear and without reproach. The police chief looked like he was protecting the mafia. This was not reflected in public opinion.
A series of around sixty articles from Duty, revealing all the angles of corruption in Montreal, had also hurt Albert Langlois. Pacifique “Pax” Plante, dismissed from the morality squad, had sounded the charge against his former boss.
Sophie Langlois’ grandfather was notably criticized for a police tactic which was common at the time: the installation of padlocks of convenience which apparently aimed to prevent access to illicit cabarets, but which did not block Nothing at all. Access to the brothels was through another door.
The political system was designed like this: the police were instructed to tolerate houses of “vice” such as gambling and prostitution. But it wasn’t said openly. The law of silence reigned over this underworld.
From hero to outcast
Unsurprisingly, after the disastrous testimony of Albert Langlois, Judge Caron sentenced him to a fine of $500 for having placed a padlock on a false door when he was a police officer, in 1945. The judge, however, exonerated him for his work as director of the Montreal police. Regardless, the damage was done in popular perception. Albert Langlois lost his position as police chief.
He also lost friends. People changed sidewalks to avoid it. Humiliated, the Langlois family left Montreal to settle in Mont-Saint-Hilaire, about forty kilometers from the metropolis.
“I wonder how this war hero could become such a pariah,” says Sophie Langlois. The sad fate of Albert Langlois contrasts with the enviable destiny of politicians of the time, including Camilien Houde, mayor of Montreal for 18 years, and the president of the executive committee, Joseph-Omer Asselin, who emerged from the commission unscathed. Because we.
We won’t tell you the end of the story here, but Sophie Langlois emerged “peaceful” from the colossal work that led her on the trail of her grandfather. Those who are pointed out as being bad guys sometimes have more than one trick up their sleeve. And heroes can hide an unsuspected dark side.