Abraham Lincoln 
  With his bodyguard, Alan Pinkerton, to his right.
    
   
  I was an investigator for Pinkerton in Montreal in the 1970's.   In fact, I was the only female investigator for Pinkerton in all of Quebec at   the time. 
   
  I covered all manner of investigations   including insurance fraud, theft, company sabotage, kidnapped children, and   much more. 
   
  As Pinkertons we often did the jobs the police couldn't be   bothered to take care of. We worked mostly for companies, but some cases were   done for private clients. We did not do the sordid infidelity cases, but I   did one special case for a prominent,   philanthropic Montrealer who thought his wife was cheating with her dance   instructor. To do that, I had to take private dance lessons with the instructor.   
   
  The client was mistaken. His wife was not cheating with the   dance instructor. She was having an affair with her children's nanny. I have   never spoken of this and I will never reveal who was involved, even after all   these years.
   
  Pinkerton Quebec at Montreal did not hire female   investigators, even though the founder, Alan Pinkerton's right hand man was a   woman named Kate Warne. I was hired first as a security guard. 
   
  I was in the personnel office one day when my supervisor,   Captain Pountney, saw me there. He told me there was an opening for an   investigator, and he encouraged me to apply. He promised he would support me,   and he did. 
   
  Then the supervisors, Art Peard and Paul Guay put me through   the ringer, trying to find reasons not to hire me. They couldn't justify their   intentions, and so I was hired.
   
  While employed in the Montreal offices of Pinkerton, my   supervisor was Art Peard. I was very nervous at first, I kept apologizing all   the time, until one day Mr. Peard said that if I apologized one more time, he   would slap me. There was no real physical threat. It was intended to get his   point across. 
   
  And so, from that moment on, I literally would bite my tongue   to avoid letting an apology slip through automatically, and the impulse   subsided.
   
  I was good at my job. Very good. In fact, I was required to   rewrite the reports of most of the male investigators who could not make out a   coherent report in English and some of whom were wily as investigators, but   could hardly write at all.
   
  A mentor was assigned to train me and be my partner and driver   on surveillances. He was an ex-police officer and he quickly became my friend,   shielding me from the tricks that went on among the men and teaching me how to   drive my car backward, fast, and how to recognize what was going on behind the   scenes. 
   
  Claude Lalonde turned out to be a very strong and reliable   partner. Many's the night we sat in the car on cold and dark surveillances and   just watched and talked. I learned a lot from him. And he respected and   protected me. I do not forget.
   
  The job was endlessly fascinating. I loved it. Until a new   supervisor was added to the team. He came out of nowhere and was posted above   Art Peard. When George Neil joined our team, everything changed. It was clear   from the start, he did not like me. 
   
  George Neil and Art Peard were very different. Mr. Peard was a   pleasant man and easy to work with. Neil was always grumbling - and rarely   sober. In fact, that is the one thing Mr. Peard and Mr. Neil shared. They were   both habitual drinkers. 
   
  Mr. Neil tried to get me out in every way he could.    Someone told me he was afraid I was after his job. In fact, I did not want his   job. I loved doing investigations and had not the least interest in accounting   and supervising others. But Neil was a nervous individual and intent on making   life on the job miserable for me.
   
  One day I was assigned to a surveillance with a young   partner as my driver. Neil told me that I should find a phone booth at about   10:00 PM and call him at home. He would then decide if we should discontinue the   surveillance for the night. No cell phones in those days, so we found a phone   booth and I called Mr. Neil. He was almost incoherent, clearly deep in the   sauce. He told me to drop the surveillance and report in the   morning.
   
  I was in for a big surprise when I went into the office the   next day. Neil was spoiling for a fight. He asked me why I had not called in the   night before as he had told me to. How do you answer a question like that when I   had talked to him at 10:00 PM? When I recovered from the initial shock, I told   him I had spoken to him and he had told me to drop the surveillance. He denied   it and accused me of not doing my job.
   
  As an investigator, I was required to be at my desk from nine   to five. But I was only paid for the time I was working on a case for a client.   If I was not assigned a case, I just had to sit there, without pay. George Neil   found a way to ensure I would not want to stay. Here is how he did   it.
   
  Art Peard and George Neil would usually be in the office in   the morning. But in the afternoon, they would usually be out on business. Their   "business office" was the Igloo Bar at Dorval Airport. If anything came up in   the office, I was to phone them there.
   
  Before leaving for "lunch", George Neil would lock up all the   assignments in his desk drawer. And so, often, I was at my desk, with no work   and no pay. Who would stay on a job for no pay? Neil was counting on it.   
   
  Near the end of the work day, when I was about to leave, Neil   and Peard would return to the office. Neil would unlock his desk and assign   the clients' cases - to the male investigators, who would be paid time and a   half for working the late shift. 
   
  I couldn't stay quiet about the abuse any longer. I stood   before George Neil who was only mildly inebriated at the moment, and I said,   "You come with me!" That was an order that came from my gut. 
   
  And I took George Neil, almost physically, to the elevator and   up to the penthouse offices of Paul St. Amour  president of Pinkerton   Quebec at Montreal. 
   
  Neil plopped down in a chair, red faced and silent. And I   described the problem to Mr. St. Amour.
   
  His answer was startling. He said, "You know what he's doing.   And I know what he's doing. But he keeps the books in the black. How can I tell   the New York office that I let him go?"
   
  And so it was. But St. Amour ordered George Neil to make sure   that, if there were no cases for me to work on for clients, he was to assign me   to investigate those applying for work as Pinkerton guards. The pay for that   work was less than for clients' cases, but it was something. 
   
  And so I worked for the personnel department under Mr.   Martel's supervision when I was not assigned "real" cases. I learned to   administer lie detector tests and checked the backgrounds of the applicants -   education, previous jobs, neighbourhood, etc. The supervisors took care of   financial and criminal background checks as they had "ins" with the   police.
   
  Mr. Martel (The Hammer) was not happy with me. I actually   thought for myself and would not be obedient... insofar as one task was   concerned. 
   
  After I had worked on the personnel applications for a while,   I was called into Martel's office and he instructed me to make a special mark on   the corner of any application made by a Negro. I refused to do it. And so I was   in the proverbial dog house with Martel.
   
  As an investigator, I had covered one case where a boy had   been kidnapped by his father from the mother who had legal custody. The case had   been investigated for about five years by various agencies without success. I   traced the boy to Ottawa where I found the   father's synagogue. 
   
  I waited a very long time for the rabbi to come to meet   me there. The rabbi was amazed at what I had to tell him. He had   performed the boy's Bar Mitzvah and had no idea of the background of the   case. The boy and the rabbi had been told that the mother had   died.
   
  But along came another case where I was asked to help kidnap a   child from the father to have him returned at Dorval Airport to his American   mother who had legal custody. I refused. 
   
  I was assured by my supervisors that, when I brought the child   to the airport, I would be shown proof that the mother was the legal parent. I   still refused. 
   
  I sweated that night, believing that would be the end of my   job. In the morning, without explanation. I was told   Pinkerton was cancelling the case.
   
  And then there was the last straw. It was winter. I was to get   to a dairy and follow a certain truck. And I did. My partner on this assignment   was an ex-taxi driver who was supposed to be very skilled. He drove around   blocks and lost the truck and it went on and on.
   
  I called in my report and I was told to drop the surveillance.   With the cold, damp hours of surveillance I started to get sick with a sore   throat and a cough and fever. I called Mr. Neil and told him I was sick and I   could not resume the surveillance. In fact my doctor said I had bronchitis   bordering on pneumonia. George Neil accused me of   "insubordination."
   
  I reported to Paul St. Amour that I could no longer work with   George Neil. St. Amour suggested that I work for the personnel department for a   while. I would have considered that, but I would be replacing a young mother who   needed the job. So I declined. And so ended my career as a   Pinkerton.
   
  And that is just part of the story.
   
  Phyllis Mass Carter
   
          I REMEMBER BUCK FORTIN, 
  WEST END INVESTIGATION 
  AND PINKERTON
        THE TRUTH ABOUT TRUTH - IT ISN'T EASY
FRANK SHOOFEY   AND PINKERTON
     
   Alan Pinkerton and Kate Warne      
  Alan Pinkerton was born August 25, 1819, Glasgow,   Scotland—died July 1, 1884, Chicago, Illinois, U.S.) Scottish-born detective and   founder of a famous American private detective agency.
  
Pinkerton was the son of a police sergeant who died when Allan was a   child, leaving the family in great poverty. Allan found work as a cooper and   soon became involved in Chartism, a mass movement that sought political and   social reform. His activities resulted in a warrant for his arrest, and in 1842   Pinkerton fled to the United States, settling in Chicago. 
   
  Moving the next year to the nearby town of Dundee in Kane county, he set up   a cooper's shop there. While cutting wood on a deserted island one day, he   discovered and later captured a gang of counterfeiters. Following this and other   similar achievements, he was appointed deputy sheriff of Kane county in 1846 and   soon afterward deputy sheriff of Cook county, with headquarters in   Chicago.
  
In 1850 Pinkerton resigned from Chicago's new police force in order to   organize a private detective agency that specialized in railway theft cases. The   Pinkerton National Detective Agency became one of the most famous organizations   of its kind. Its successes included capture of the principals in a $700,000   Adams Express Company theft in 1866 and the thwarting of an assassination plot   against President-elect Abraham Lincoln in February 1861 in Baltimore. 
   
  In 1861, working for the Union during the Civil War, Pinkerton, under the   name E.J. Allen, headed an organization whose purpose was to obtain military   information in the Southern states.
  
After the Civil War Pinkerton resumed the management of his detective   agency. From 1873 to 1876 one of his detectives, James McParlan, lived among the   Molly Maguires in Pennsylvania and secured evidence that led to the breaking up   of this organization of coal miners supposedly engaged in terrorism. 
   
  During the strikes of 1877 the Pinkerton Agency's harsh policy toward   labour unions caused it to be severely criticized in labour circles, although   Pinkerton asserted he was helping workers by opposing labour unions. Pinkerton   wrote The Molly Maguires and the Detectives (1877); The Spy of the Rebellion   (1883), his account of Lincoln's journey to Washington in 1861; and Thirty Years   a Detective (1884).
  
Kate Warne First Female Private-Eye
By Barbara Maikell-Thomas
  
Kate Warne has the honor of being America's first female private   investigator. She become a very good one and was able to act as an undercover   agent infiltrating social gatherings and gathering information no man was able   to obtain. She was able to wear disguises, change her accent at will and became   a huge asset to the success of Allen Pinkerton and Pinkerton National Detective   Agency. 
  
Kate Warne was so undercover for Pinkerton, no one know is sure of what   her actual name was. Note that on her tombstone (she is burred next to Allen   Pinkerton himself) her name is spelled Warn without the "e". All known documents   from the Pinkerton family history have is spelled Warne. Robert Pinkerton called   her Kitty.