Main Feature
Fame Came After Parrot Lady Died in 1949
Laura Langston, Times Colonist, Islander Insert, November 20, 1988
Volume 28 Issue 10, 11 & 12 | Posted: December 29, 2014
She was born into wealth and privilege; she died a well-known but lonely and reclusive woman. Her biggest claim to fame was a talkative bird named Louis who would make headlines around the world and outlive her by many years.
Victoria Jane Wilson was born in Victoria in 1877 to Keith Wilson and Mary Kennethina Wilson. Her mother was a Munro and was well connected to one of Victoria’s most respected families. Her father was a real estate tycoon and a typical Victorian father who believed that his children owed him something. Since Victoria was an only child, it was up to her to fill her father’s expectations. That formidable task would eventually leave her a forgotten spinster.
She was born into wealth and privilege; she died a well-known but lonely and reclusive woman. Her biggest claim to fame was a talkative bird named Louis who would make headlines around the world and outlive her by many years.
Victoria Jane Wilson was born in Victoria in 1877 to Keith Wilson and Mary Kennethina Wilson. Her mother was a Munro and was well connected to one of Victoria’s most respected families. Her father was a real estate tycoon and a typical Victorian father who believed that his children owed him something. Since Victoria was an only child, it was up to her to fill her father’s expectations. That formidable task would eventually leave her a forgotten spinster.
The Wilsons lived in a large mansion at 730 Burdett Avenue, where the Chateau Victoria Hotel now stands. Most visitors to the home were business associates of Keith Wilson. Because of a rift in the family, Mary Kennethina, who was known as “Kitty”, really didn’t see her relatives. So young Victoria never had a chance to get to know her cousins and she rarely socialized with other children. In fact, the mother and child would often stay in the large home for extended periods of time. That led to speculation that Keith Wilson wouldn’t allow them to leave.
Victoria Jane was a dark-eyed beauty who lived in comfort and opulence. The house was full of fine old furniture: large crystal chandeliers, heavy gilt mirrors and Dresden figurines. There were pillars, hand-carved staircases, ornately sculptured ceilings.
Outside was one of the most splendid estates of the time. The gardens were well manicured and immense: they stretched from Blanshard to Douglas and contained everything from bamboo trees, lily pools and sundials to stone wells and tea houses.
When Victoria Jane, or “Vic” as she was called by the family, was five, she was given a macaw named Louis. The small child was enchanted with the exotic creature. And so began what was probably the one true love of Victoria’s life: bird collecting.
Louis soon learned to talk, and he provided Victoria with some much-yearned-for company. Her father strongly discouraged her from meeting other people – particularly men. In fact, when Victoria did leave the house, Mr. Wilson was often seen a few yards back – dodging behind poles and making sure his daughter didn’t speak to strangers. The child had grown into a tall, striking woman with a delightfully feminine laugh. Always well-dressed but painfully shy, Victoria was accomplished on horseback and loved to paint and draw.
In the early 1900s Victoria Jane, or perhaps her father, bought a Hupp Yeats electric car. Victoria was going to learn to drive. She wanted to take Louis for the occasional spin, and the bird wasn’t at all fond of internal combustion cars. The noise scared him, and the fumes aggravated a persistent skin irritation.
Victoria Jane signed up for driving lessons, but gave up after five sessions. Either she couldn’t get used to driving, or her father again discouraged her from getting out of the house and mixing with other people. The car went less than 70 km and ended up on blocks in the garage. When it was discovered after Victoria Jane’s death, it had less than one charge on the battery.
Victoria was 40 when her mother died in 1917. By then, the many years of being isolated from people was starting to turn her into a recluse. Her life now revolved around her father and her birds. Her aviary, which took up the entire top floor of her house, was one of the largest of its kind in Victoria.
She visited her birds twice a day. Among them were 26 budgies, 6 peach-faced love birds, a Mexican yellow-headed parrot and 4 Panamanian parrots. And then there was Louis. No matter how many birds Victoria collected, Louis remained her favourite.
Birds were her first love. It seems shopping was her second. She rarely left home except to go to her lawyer’s office, or to stop in at a store or two. She was obviously the forerunner of today’s trend to buy in bulk. She could often be seen, a stout, older woman in a long sable coat, buying half a dozen straw hats or pairs of Gloves. And she seemed particularly fond of perfume.
Her occasional exposure to store clerks did nothing to ease what was a real fear of strangers, especially men. After her father died, she had a tunnel or walkway built from the street to her garage so the oil man wouldn’t have to come through the house with his fuel. That walkway, incidentally, permanently sealed her electric car into the garage and when she died a wall had to be knocked out to get at the vehicle.
Victoria Jane lived just 15 years after her father’s death in 1934. Her life was very quiet: she never had company and spent most of her time with her birds and her cat, Fagan. She continued to fill her closets with tasteful and expensive clothes, but she rarely wore them. Infrequently, she’d attend an afternoon tea. She was a quiet, soft-spoken woman, always properly dressed and usually seen standing off to the side or in the corner.
When she died in 1949, the 72-year-old woman left a house full of antiques and closets and drawers full of new hats and gloves. She also left $300,000 to be split among various charities including the Red Cross, the Royal Jubilee and Queen Alexandra Hospitals, and the BC Protestant orphanage. All the money, incidentally, was donated in her father’s name. And, she left her birds. She was buried in her family’s plot in Ross Bay Cemetery.
Victoria Jane and the Wilson family would have faded from memory if it hadn’t been for Louis. He was still very much alive when Victoria Jane died. In her will, she made provisions for all her pets, and she made special arrangements for Louis.
He was, she willed, to stay in the house on Burdett until his death. There was money set aside for his care, and a man by the name of Wah Wong was paid $250 a month to care for the bird. Louis pined for his mistress and could frequently be heard calling, “Miss Wilson, Miss Wilson, I want some water.” Along with his water, Louis was treated to daily tots of brandy, walnuts and hard-boiled eggs. Word of the unusual arrangement spread and so did Louis’ fame. He was written up in a number of newspapers and periodicals, including Life magazine.
The house on Burdett was turned into a rooming house and Louis, snug and well-fed watched as numerous people came and went. Macaws can live many, many years and Louis showed no signs of old age. Developers, in particular, Harmon, the lawyer in charge of the Wilson estate agreed that it was simply too costly to keep Louis in the large, decaying house. He made lifelong arrangements for the bird, who would be cared for by Wah Wong and his family. Eventually the old Wilson home was demolished and the property developed.
It was an ending that quite possibly would have infuriated Victoria Jane Wilson. And Louis spent his last years in Victoria, something of a recluse like his former mistress, and was pampered and privileged in his old age. When he died in 1985, he would have been roughly 115 years old.
Laura Langston, Times Colonist, Islander Insert, November 20, 1988