Meanies robbed fruitmonger Max Lipes and tossed him off a bridge in Old Montreal - or did they?

Max Lipes following his mishap

  St. Lawrence Main Street fruitmonger Max Lipes brought some grisly fame to the 500 metre viaduct, let's call it a bridge, on Notre Dame that spans Berri and Montcalm just east of City Hall on 10 March 1925 at 1:30 a.m. 

 The bridge is still in the same place as it was 100 years ago and still apparently has no name. Its purpose ended with the death of the Viger Train station decades ago, and it now provides handy free street parking for those willing to walk a bit to get to Old Montreal and it also enriches the ample vagrants of the area who rob those cars with impunity

Notre Dame Street Bridge where Lipes leapt

 Coolopolis has pointed out that at least once, in 1951, a motorist managed to survive a fall over the edge.  And while the bridge offers a decent view of the waterfront, one could argue that demolishing it would be wise, as it'd add a cool new hill to the area. 

 So what's this geography chit-chat got to do with hardworking fruit store owner Max Lipes? Well Max, it seems, took a mysterious fall off the bridge 97 years ago this spring. 

 Some Canadian Pacific railroad employees found the badly-battered Lipes on the ground beneath the bridge, in such bad shape that amputating an arm was a possibility. 

 Police detectives visited him in hospital at 11 a.m. to ask what happened. 

 I went to the show at the Princess Theatre last night and once it ended, I walked towards my home. I was walking east on St. Catherine in the aim of catching a tram on St. Lawrence. I found myself between Bleury and St. Alexander when I saw a car coming along the sidewalk. I think I heard my name and got the impression it was people who knew me. They told me to hop aboard for a lift. When I got in there were three young men that I didn't know. I wanted to ask questions but the car left and zoomed at high speed along St. Catherine. When we got to St Denis they turned and I protested and they told me to shut up. One asked if I have a lot of money. I said "No, just a little." "Give me what you've got." I gave them what I had, about six dollars. He thought I had more money. I thought I was going to faint.They took me to the Notre Dame bridge and I could not fight back. I fainted. I awoke on the tracks beneath the bridge. How long was I lying on the tracks? I don't know. A thick cloud of smoke from a locotmotive was coming towards me. I screamed for help. Two strangers came and helped me and brought me to a place where I was transported to hopsital.  

 Lipes appeared in court the next day to explain the events to a judge. He clammed up. All assumed  that Lipes had invented the story because he was ashamed of attempting suicide, which was considered a criminal act back in those great times. 

 The mysterious attackers who tossed Max Lipes off the bridge - whether real or imaginary - never manifested themselves again in any way in this city. 

 Lipes, for his part, returned to obscurity after his two days on the front pages and we know not of what became of him, other than the he was already dead when his wife died in 1949 and his two sons were in New York.