When it comes to choosing elected officials, almost everything about them is up for debate; their policies, character, even physical appearance are, for better or worse, fair game. But there’s one thing everyone can agree upon: Whoever wins should, in the very least, show up for work. You wouldn’t want a legislator representing you who has a habit of failing to vote because he or she is incapacitated. This doesn’t happen very often, fortunately—that is, except in the case of Edward Jerningham Wakefield.
Edward Jerningham Wakefield was born in London in June 1820 and was an early English colonist in New Zealand. Around the age of eighteen, he traveled with his father, a politician named Edwin Gibbon Wakefield who advocated for colonial expansion, to Canada on a secret mission to unite Lower and Upper Canada into one political unit. The colonization bug bit Jerningham during this trip, and shortly thereafter, he joined his uncle, Colonel William Wakefield, on an expedition to New Zealand.
Jerningham was supposed to only be in New Zealand for a few months, scouting out areas for future British colonies, but became enamored with the area. Eventually he became a permanent resident, and when New Zealand formed a parliament in 1853, he was among its first members, serving one term. He returned to private life thereafter but ultimately sought political office again in 1871. At this time he was once again elected as a member of parliament—but proved unpopular. When re-election came around four years later, he was one of six men on the ballot striving for one of just three seats. Jerningham came in fifth.
And his allies in parliament were likely very happy about this: It meant they didn’t have to lock him in the closet anymore. Okay, it wasn’t a closet—but close enough. You see, Jerningham had quite a drinking problem. Te Ara (the encyclopedia of New Zealand) details, “his later life was clouded by alcoholism and disgrace,” and this alcoholism was a notable part of his second term as a member of parliament. At times, he would drink so much that he became unable to vote on legislation. Incredibly, he was not alone here—there were a few other MPs for whom the term “drop dead drunk” was only barely an exaggeration—and as a result, his sober colleagues needed to find a solution. According to Grog’s Own Country: The Story of Liquor Licensing in New Zealand, the answer was simple: Jerningham and the other MPs in question were “locked up by Whips [legislative leaders] in small rooms to keep them sober enough to stand up for crucial [matters].” But it didn’t end there.
Jerningham’s political allies thought they had a foolproof plan: By keeping Jerningham behind lock and key in a room without any alcohol, they had a vote at the ready when the time came. But they made an error that only Santa Claus (and certain MPs) would have noticed: The otherwise inaccessible room that housed Jerningham had a chimney. Grog’s Own Country explains: “On one occasion, political opponents tried to defeat the purpose of the incarceration by lowering a bottle of whisky to [Jerningham] down the chimney on a piece of string.” The ploy almost worked; Jerningham drank too much initially, effectively passing out, but was able to recover in time to vote.