On Halloween Day 1926, death came knocking on the door of one wealthy Toronto man.The attorney and financier knew he could not bring his fortune along with him into the next life, so instead, he devised a devious plan to expose people's sinful greed.You see, Charles Vance Millar was not just a well-to-do man who had accumulated a considerable estate — he was also a proud practical jokester with a facetious sense of humor.Millar indulged in poking fun at the greedy, believing everyone had a price; the trick (and his amusement) came from finding exactly what this was..As the Smithsonian Magazine tells it, one of his favourite pastimes was placing money on the sidewalks and then hiding nearby, observing and laughing as people reacted, contemplating whether they should take it.He liked to tell his friends that the pastime "was an education in human nature," as All That's Interesting reports.Consistent in his thinking, Millar thought it was only right that he devise one big final antic, cementing all he stood for after his death.His will contained a number of odd provisions, dripping with irony, including leaving all the brewery stock he owned to a group of prohibitionist Protestant ministers, his Ontario Jockey Club shares to two vocal opponents of racetrack betting, and $500 to a housekeeper who was already dead..He even divided ownership of a most comfortable holiday estate in Jamaica among three lawyers who hated each other.Most peculiar — since Millar was a bachelor and died childless, he figured he'd give part of his fortune to those who did bear offspring — like, a lot of them.His will stated it would grant the Toronto mother who bore the most children over the decade after his death $500,000, amounting to $9 million today.Should there be a tie, the winnings would be divided amongst them.This marked the birth (pun intended) of the Great Stork Derby..This title was synonymous with the large baby boom, covered in exhaustive length by media, which took over Toronto into the 1930s.When the will's instructions were made public, many believed they were another gag for Millar's living friends to amuse themselves with and to test the legal system.Others speculated it was a statement in support of birth control, which was illegal at the time, to "turn the spotlight on unbridled breeding" by "shame[ing] the government into legalizing birth control."Whatever the reason behind Millar's last request, something he couldn't have predicted was the economic downturn the next decade had in store. .The Great Depression lasted almost the entirety of the stork race, acting as beacon of hope for overcrowded families who were struggling to get by. "Suddenly, there are a lot more people in Toronto who are living in poverty," Chris Bateman, a historian with Heritage Toronto, told the Toronto Star."The idea of being rewarded for having children — perhaps something you were planning to do already or were going to do anyway — seemed a lot more appealing."Over the next 10 years, the media went bananas for stork babies, staking out prospective contest mothers.The Toronto Daily Star did just that, assigning a special reporter, to follow the "great stork derby," responsible for chasing pregnant women around the city for exclusives. It was a national and even international spectacle, a decade in the making, with many overwhelmed mothers hoping to be the next lucky millionaire..As the years passed by, only 11 families would officially compete for the prize.When the clock struck 4:30 pm on October 31, 1936, exactly 10 years after Millar's death, the contest was over.It was a bit of a hassle deciding who had won, as, first, what had to be sifted through were all the technicalities: claimed births that were not officially registered, babies fathered by men that were not their husbands.Not to mention some other pesky questions: Did stillbirths count? What about children born to unmarried mothers? Did those living in the area around Toronto count?.All questions and anticipation came to a screeching halt once Judge William Edward Middleton, a man sympathetic to large families, being himself the eldest of nine, made the final decision.Middleton proclaimed it to be a tie.The winners included Annie Katherine Smith, Kathleen Ellen Nagle, Alice Timleck, and Isabel Mary Maclean — each of whom was an absolute trooper, giving birth to nine children over the decade.Each family received around $125,000, equivalent to $2.8 million in today's money.Many of the families used the money to buy new houses and finance their children's education..Despite the contest ultimately concluding in a satisfying manner, there were many bumps along the way.One was court challenges, despite Millar, being a lawyer himself, having constructed the stork derby clause in a way that would withstand such challenges. Over the course of the decade following Millar's death, the clause bounced back and forth between court challenges. Some claimed the scheme was against public policy, and in the words of the Globe and Mail at the time, it was "encouraging the birth of children with no regard to their chances of life or welfare.".Distant relatives of Millar's suddenly came out of the woodwork trying to sniff out his fortune, but were unsuccessful.Even the Ontario government wanted a piece of Millar's estate, hoping to redirect its entirety to the University of Toronto.This case was shot down by the Supreme Court of Canada, and Millar's clause remained valid. On May 31, 1938, the Ottawa Citizen reported that the derby "sensation" had once and for all come to a close, marking a truly "strange chapter in legal and obstetrical history," probably never to be seen again — but who knows?
