HARRISON STREET BLUES - PART TWO

Here is the second part of my Harrison Street memories:

Many a day I waved to a college student cycling from Craigdarroch Castle (then our college) to Vic High for chemistry classes.

It was about this time that the tragic death of John Penketh occurred.  He died as a result of a head injury during a rugby game between Victoria College and Oak Bay High School.  He was a fine athlete and at the time of his death had been accepted by the RCAF for air crew and was to have left for training at the close of college term.  

We all had our heroes at that time and some of the better known ones were the Chapmans, the Pedens, the Bakers, the Ovcharicks, the McKeachies, Busher Jackson, Austin Cullen, Arnold Ferguson, Duff McCaghey, Art McKim and of course, Hank Rowe. Hank returned from Dieppe as Victoria's hero with a Military Medal and was presented with the city's Ceremonial Medallion.

I remember stopping off at the Fernwood Meat Market on the way home from school to pick up some sausages or hamburger (minced beef we called it then) for my mother for the evening meal...the trips I made for my mom to the corner store (still there) on Begbie street, the old Chinaman and his vegetable truck which went door to door and with whom my mom ran up such a bill that in the end neither of them knew what was owing!  She ended up paying him a dollar every time he arrived!  I also remember the baker and his horse-drawn wagon and the fun we had giving the horse a treat. And I remember the ice-man and his delivery truck.  He sawed huge blocks of ice into small sections at the back of the truck, grasped the big blocks he'd cut off with a large set of tongs, slung it over his back and made his way to the appropriate house.  In his absence, we quickly scraped up the left over bits of ice and popped them into our mouths, alternating the icy chunk from side to side until we could stand it no longer.

I remember my girfriend Pat, who lived next door, being called for by her young Romeo, who tooted the car's horn which played the popular 'You Are My Sunshine', to announce his arrival. Once Pat's mother gave us both a big treat - a banana split at the Topper restaurant, then located on Yates Street near the Standard Furniture Company.  It was my first banana split and I was very excited.

Every year Pat's mom planted out forget-me-nots and wall flowers in her front garden.  At the time it seemed such a huge display, but now I realize it was a small area.  I loved to garden and still do.  I spent hours pulling weeds and setting out plants and then mother would come out and admire my handiwork.

I remember how we used to play jacks or hopscotch until it was time for supper and then you'd hear all the moms calling out their kids' names': "Beh.....tee" and a few minutes later the same call, as the first had been ignored but now the call was much firmer "BETTY!" then a pause and finally the answering all "Coming".  You don't seem to hear that much any more.  Maybe the kids these days all have digital watches and don't need to be reminded it is time to come home.

I recall an embarrassing moment when I breathlessly waited for the red-haired paper boy at the end of each day.  The observant and cheeky man across the street sang out "Oh Mama, the paper boy for me" (the popular song at the tme was "Oh Mama, the butcher boy for me".

Many was the time my girlfriend, Margaret, and I chattered away on the phone deciding what we were going to where, then we'd meet somewhere between her place and mine on Fernwood Road.  We boarded the streetcar in front of the old Emmanuel Baptist Church (now the Belfry).  The streetcar trundled us into town where we window shopped, took in a movie or just had a coke with friends.

Often we went to the 'cheer-up' evening concerts held in the old bandstand at Beacon Hill Park.  I can still hear the strains of 'When The Lights Come On Again All Over The World' drifting over the park.  There were hundreds of people gathered there, you usually recognized most of them and certainly knew a great many.  In those days you always seemed to be saying hello to someone on the street - now they are all strangers. 

Often we were trailed home by lonely sailors, eager but harmless.  On a few occasions we attended Robert House, which was a type of Stage Door Canteen for the boys in uniform.

One of my fondest memories is meeting my husband for the first time in a line-up at the old Dominion Theatre on Yates Street.  He had just returned from military service in Burma and was accompanied by a boyfriend of mine, who introduced Ken and I.  The rest is history. Many hours Ken and I spent on the porch of my home on Harrison Street and in front of that romantic fireplace!

My father paid $25/month rent for our home which had a full basement, four bedrooms and was on a quiet street close to schools and town.

Recently I saw a rezoning notice in the paper stating the house was to be torn down and an apartment building erected in its place. This sparked my desire to see 1426 Harrison Street once more.  

I should not have returned.  Gone was the bannister leading up to my bedroom, replaced by a blank wall. An entrance had been knocked through from the porch to a separate suite upstairs, where my treasured bedroom had been. The whole house had been turned into small units - the pantry was now a bathroom.  The surrounding homes were obviously slated for demolition as they were sadly neglected. No more manicured lawns, no signs of loving care.  I returned home rather despondent.

A few months later my husband and I drove by, just to see if the house was still standing.  A pile of rubble greeted us. 

My house is gone forever, but my memories of it linger on.

HARRISON STREET BLUES - PART ONE

(This is the first article I ever wrote - several decades ago. It deals with some of the memories of my teen-age years. When it appeared in the paper, I received numerous phone calls from various people saying how much they had enjoyed my story and was I going to write more? That encouraged me to continue writing.  The article is rather lengthy by blog standards, so I'll split it into sections, for the pleasure of today's readers! Hope you enjoy it...)

For the last year or so, I have had this yearning to return to the house on Harrison Street, Victoria BC, where I lived as a teen-ager 45 years ago.

I could picture in my mind the cosy entrance hall and heavily varnished curving stairs with fancy carved bannister leading up to my bedroom.  I remember the flowered wallpaper my father and I painstakingly pasted and applied to my bedroom walls and the odd-shaped walk-in closets.

Then there was the enormous bathroom which nowadays would be a decorator's delight, but to us was just a bathroom.  Off the entrance hall the small front room contained a tiled fireplace which fired many a romantic evening.

I think the room I remember best was the dining room which was spacious yet warm with its dark varnished wainscotting and accompanying plate rack encircling the room. This room with its potbellied stove, complete with mica window revealing flickering flames, holds many memories. I think back to the card games and homework at the big table and the lesson in hair cutting from my dad.  I still cut his hair and he is now 94.

There was a swinging door to the pantry which contained all the household supplies and boasted a sink.  Another swinging door led from the pantry into the big kitchen.  I can still see my mother standing at the old wood stove, stirring scrambled eggs, while to one side the kettle steamed comfortingly and continuously.  

In those days, moms were moms. Not too many that I came in contact with were as much concerned with perms, hair coloring or weight watching as they were with where the next meal was coming from.

Memories flood back.  The Saturday and Sunday mornings I slept in and awoke to the steady comforting whirr of the now old-fashioned pushmower as a neighbor lovingly tended his lawn. 

As a result of the Depression years, my older brother Les taught himself to make candy and peddled it door to door.  I recall one time when Les had just put some lovely creamy fudge on the back porch to cool.  My other brother Ken decided to 'test' it and burned the tip of his nose in the process.

Once, my dad set a trap for a neighborhood boy who had taken to 'borrowing' dad's bicycle in order to complete his paper route. Twice dad's bike had disappeared and then been returned by the stealthy intruder.  Dad strung a line, complete with tin cans, across the entrance to our garage. Very early in the morning there was a great clatter and dad sprang from his bed.  The would-be borrower fled and we were never bothered by him again.

Dad was greatly relieved, as his bike was his mode of transportation to and from work where he was employed by McLennan, McFeely and Prior (commonly known as Mc&Mc's), a popular hardware store located at that time on Government Street, opposite the present Century Inn.  He was in the parts department in the basement and was so well known and knowledgeable that he was affectionately referred to as 'Pop'.

Also employed at this firm was a young boy by the name of Robin Justice.  Fellow employees and all Victorians were shocked to hear of the brutal murder of Robin's sister, Molly, who was head seamstress at the Government Street General Warehouse store.  Molly was only 15 years of age and was killed by knife wounds on her way home from work one night.  Her boy was found on the Canadian National right-of-way near Vernon Avenue in Saanich.  Her murderer was never identified.

I remember that while attending Central Junior high school I was instructed to write an essay on a 'character'.  I chose old Bill Nye who was well known by all Victorians.  He had a dirty, stringy beard and his pants were held up with the aid of a piece of rope.  He used to wander the downtown streets and often shopped at the old Safeway store, or Chinese vegetable store, which were both located on Fort Street opposite the present location of the Dutch Bakery.

I recall working away on this essay while sitting at our big dining room table in my favorite room with the fire crackling in the old heater.  I must have run into difficulties as I asked my mother for some help which she willingly provided.  I proudly presented my completed essay to my adored English Teacher, Rudyard Kipling (yes, this was really his name).  It didn't take him long to spot my mother's British influence in my masterpiece.  I had innocently inserted the phrase 'green grocer' in describing the Chinese vegetable store Bill Nye entered on Fort Street.

The principal of Central Junior at that time was Miss Olive Heritage who was ahead of her time, being the only female principal in the school district.  She was an imposing figure, tall, good-looking and always elegantly dressed.  She was an excellent principal and well-liked.

I recall walking along Fernwood Road, wearing my sloppy-Joe sweater, saddle shoes and bobby socks.  

The Big One

Hi, I'm back.  I hope you missed me, but with all the Christmas Season activities, I doubt it!

Well, 2014 was the big year for me - I turned 90 in December. 

I hosted a little luncheon at our house for my scrabble group.  All the Christmas decorations were up, I had soft carols playing in the background and a fire glowing. We all enjoyed sharing memories of Christmas past and the pleasure of being together.

Our son Mark and his wife Carol drove down from Prince George for my birthday.  As we were setting out the Chinese food they brought for dinner, the phone rang - it was one of my grand-daughters, Lindsay, phoning from Prince George to wish me Happy Birthday.  

Then the doorbell rang, interrupting our phone call, so I said a hurried 'good-bye'.  I opened the door to find Lindsay along with her new baby boy, James Mark, both draped in flashing Christmas lights! She had been hiding in Mark's truck and had actually been calling me from her cell phone as she came to the front door.  What a wonderful surprise!  I was thrilled to meet my newest great grand-child for the first time - he is adorable!

Another happy event to celebrate my birthday was a night out for dinner and musical theatre at the Oak Bay Beach Hotel.  We enjoyed a delicious dinner and we found the entertainment to be just excellent.

Then on the 29th of December, Lindsay's twin, Heather, along with her husband Adam and their little boy, Oliver, came for lunch and a visit.  We hadn't seen Oliver since he was a few months old. Now at 16 months, he is walking very well.  He is a handsome sturdy boy and was so well-behaved!

Finally, to top off my birthday month, we had a visit from our nephew Dennis, from Port Alberni.  He arrived with a beautifully decorated box full of gifts as well as dinner.  Later in the evening he insisted on giving me a demonstration of crepe-making.  He even brought his own crepe mixture and pan.  While he masterfully flipped crepes, we chatted and caught up on each other's news.  Dennis is a very caring chap and it was wonderful to see him again.

All in all, I had a super 90th birthday.  I am very blessed.

A Mitford Gathering

Several years ago, daughter Terry and I both read the Mitford books - a series by Jan Karon.  

We thoroughly enjoyed the books and encouraged many of our friends to read them.

The books deal with the life of a pastor, aged sixty-ish, living in a small American town and involve the lives of his old buddies, congregation and delightful next door neighbour - Cynthia.

The first line of the first book "At Home in Mitford" draws you in... 'He left the coffee-scented warmth of the Main Street Grill and stood for a moment under the green awning'.

Among the inhabitants of Mitford are many 'characters'. There is Mayor Esther Cunningham and her famous Orange Marmalade Cake.  

There are Miss Rose and her husband Uncle Billy.  Rose is extremely eccentric, dressing in cast-off clothes she finds in dumpsters and usually adding her deceased brother's war medals and decrepit army jacket to her ensembles.

Terry and I decided to host an afternoon tea with a Mitford theme, inviting friends who had read the series.  

One such friend loaned us an "Uncle Billy" in the form of a stuffed mannequin whom we dressed according to his description in the books.  Rose was my own creation - all I had was a styrofoam wig stand and a grey wig.  I built a body out of pillows including legs (pantyhose stuffed with tissue paper), old unlaced running shoes and used some of Ken's war medals to complete Rose's appearance.  As long as she remained seated, she was okay!

We made Esther Cunningham's famous Orange Marmalade Cake from the recipe that appeared in one of the books.  We all enjoyed tea and cake as we listened to a selection of readings from various books in the series.  Uncle Billy and Miss Rose, seated prominently by the fireplace, silently presided over the festivities. 

The gathering was a great success and we fortunately have a few photos of the event to treasure.

Writing this story has jogged my memory, reinforced by reading various notes from the guests of that afternoon tea. "Thank you for lending me such a delightful book with a pastor who attracts every woman in his parish, from the youngest to the oldest.  He is reminiscent of the bachelor 'Father Tim' that you find in old English villages - it was just priceless".  Another friend penned "As warm and fuzzy as hot chocolate on a cold day".

Now I can hardly wait to curl up and enjoy reading the Mitford series all over again!

GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER?

Over the years, Ken and I have had some fascinating experiences.

One day sometime in the 1960's, Ken called me from work (the Post Office), saying "Guess who's coming to dinner?"  He had spent the afternoon giving a tour of the Victoria Post Office to a Postal Training Officer from Los Angeles, and had now invited this fellow, his wife and their daughter, to join us for supper. My dear husband explained that our guest was a Negro and would I please explain his colour to the kids. (Remember, this was the 1960's and Victoria was not a very cosmopolitan city).

Jesse, Myrtle and their daughter Pearl were delightful guests.  Jesse was as black as the ace of spades, Myrtle was a light brown. Pearl was a gorgeous caramel blend of the two.  She looked twenty-one, even though she was only fifteen. We thoroughly enjoyed their company.

Jesse and Myrtle took us out for drinks at the Bengal Room to show their appreciation. We met them at the Empress, where they were staying (a far cry from the time when, it is said, Rochester was turned away from that hotel when he was touring with Jack Benny).

Young Pearl (later to become a model) asked for coca cola while we adults enjoyed Harvey Wallbangers (all the rage at the time).   Because she asked for a drink, the alert waiter inquired as to her age.  When she responded "fifteen" she was asked to take her cola to a table in the hall, as she was under age and could not remain in the lounge.

A few years later, we stayed with the Robinsons on one of our trips down South.  They had a lovely home complete with a swimming pool - in the shape of California!  Jesse was a very popular guy who mingled with politicians and movie stars. Marilyn Monroe was a guest at one of his pool parties.  

Jesse was extremely proud of the many Christmas cards he had received over the years from various Presidents of the United States and other dignitaries and had them prominently displayed under a glass cover.  He attended all of the Olympic games, sometimes in capacity of a committee member.

He showed us the personal gym he had in his home, saying that he wouldn't dare jog around his neighborhood.  In fact, his property was surrounded by a chain link fence and boasted two guard dogs.

Ken and I ventured out into the neighborhood to buy some wine and beer at the local liquor store.  It felt odd to be the only non-blacks.  Later on we drove to a shopping area where we hoped to buy Jesse a book by Irving Wallace ('The Man') a work of fiction about the first black president of the United States. (who knew???).  The clerk at the store laughed at us and said "people around here don't read much, you'll have to find a proper bookstore".  Everyone was very helpful and friendly but we still uncomfortable in a sea of black faces - it gave us a greater understanding of how blacks feel in the reverse situation.

While we stayed with Jesse and Myrtle, we saw the famous Watts Towers. 

These amazing structures are constructed from steel rebar, a type of concrete, wrapped with wire mesh and embedded with pieces of porcelain, glass, tile and decorated with things like bottles, ceramic tiles, sea shells, figurines, mirrors, and even milk of magnesia bottles.

One morning our hosts asked what we would like for breakfast?  We said we had heard so much about 'grits' that we would like to try some.  Myrtle, who was a much admired school teacher, cooked up a batch for us, even though she said that they never ate 'the stuff'.  (Grits are coarsely ground corn kernels).  Myrtle was always casually attired around the home, often in a Cassius Clay t-shirt and slacks.

On our last evening with the Robinsons, an old auntie, who lived with them, decorated the dining table in grand style, with a pink tablecloth, pink napkins in the wine glasses. Everything looked perfect.  

Jesse came to the table wearing a violent orange-coloured jumpsuit.  Jokingly, I said "Jesse, you are clashing with Auntie's decor".  His face lit up with glee, and off he went, returning shortly, clad in a pure white jumpsuit. We all had a good laugh.

Auntie said grace over us at her prettily decorated table, saying "God go with you on your journey home, but if anything should happen, remember, it's not God's fault!"

Sadly, both Jesse and Myrtle have left us but we fondly remember them and the lessons they taught us.

AWAY AND HOME AGAIN - TRAVELS ON THE CONTINENT

Continental memories - once in Monaco, Ken and I sauntered along the harbour, blissfully unaware that a film crew was filming the famous racing car driver, Jackie Stewart, and Ken and I were in the way!  The whole sequence had to be redone - allowing us to capture it on our video camera!

Once, leaving Rome by train, we were headed for Bari to catch the ferry for Dubrovnik.  Our compartment companion was a priest.  He treated us to an espresso and on our arrival at Bari, leapt from the train, hailed a taxi, helped unload/load our luggage and paid the taxi fare.  Then with a wave and "God bless you!" he was gone.  These are experiences one never forgets.

In Dubrovnik we were housed with a delightful couple.  Like us, they had built their own home with a loan from a bank. Each morning, the host shook our hands and gave us some sort of alcoholic drink to start the day.  One of his daughters spoke English, which was very helpful.  We loved our time there and enjoyed many walks through the walled city taking in the view of the beautiful Adriatic Sea over the red-tiled rooftops.  

Yugoslavian food was fantastic and a concert under the stars one evening made our stay in this city perfect.

Oh the memories we have - including a night in Spain spent nightclubbing (those were the days!) and acting as chaperons for one of the young waitresses at our lovely hotel.

Traveling is wonderful. Ken and I have a wealth of memories, bolstered now by re-reading the detailed diaries we kept of every trip.  It is almost like enjoying the journeys all over again, but from the comfort of home, and as we all know - there is nothing like being home in your own bed!!

AWAY AND HOME AGAIN - TRAVELS IN BRITAIN

On one of our seven trips to England, we stayed with a very nice couple Ken met through research for his book, 'Dear Mum'.  The husband of this couple served as a seaman on the H.M.S. Ramillies during WWII. They lived in a three storey Victorian home with NO central heating.

The kitchen was cosy - this was where they spent the majority of their time.  The parlour 'boasted' a miniscule fireplace doing its very best to warm the frigid room.  While our hosts puttered about in the cosy kitchen making meal preparations, we 'guests' froze in the parlour and couldn't believe it when the husband called out to us to please let him know if we got too warm!!  When it was time to say good night, we climbed many stairs to the third floor and our icy bedroom. We wasted no time in hopping into bed but were delighted to find that our thoughtful hosts had turned on the electric blanket!

Once when we were visiting Wales, we found ourselves in Cardiff, blissfully unaware there was a conference underway in the city.  We searched in vain for accommodation and were relieved to finally locate a bed and breakfast.  The owner, a blowsy bottled blond trying desperately to look 30, sashayed her high-heeled way ahead of us up a steep flight of stairs, saying she could 'squeeze' us into a little room. The beds were extremely narrow with mattresses like cardboard but we survived to laugh about it all.

We enjoyed many wonderful hikes around the British countryside 

and were undaunted by the occasional 'stile' which separated farmers' fields.

Another time in Exeter we found a bed and breakfast and then went out to look for a meal.  We located a pub but they did not serve meals.  The publican directed us to a 'Wimpy's (McDonalds) type establishment where we purchased a so-called hamburger and chips which we carried back to the pub.  While we were seated in front of a cosy fire, another couple arrived in search of a meal - so we shared our bountiful chips with them. When we finally returned to our lodgings and climbed into bed, we discovered a lovely hot stone pig (hot water bottle) nestled under the sheets.  

On another visit to England we stayed with our old dears, Nellie and Edna, about whom I have previously written in this blog (see 'Innocents Abroad').  Nellie and Edna were the 'salt of the earth'.  These elderly sisters had never married and were extremely innocent.  One morning Ken entered the bathroom only to be engulfed in steam from which Edna emerged, swaddled in a dressing gown.  'Oh, Kenneth!' she tittered and fled past him.  On another occasion Ken was soaking in the bathtub when Edna suddenly entered the bathroom, a plumber in tow, and asked if Ken would mind if the man took a look at the sink taps?

Just a few of our many fond memories of touring around Britain.