Correspondence
Index
North Van Ferry wharf
Jones Tent & Awning
Daffodil field in Southlands
Lois Light's house at Tatlow Park/The Devonshire Hotel
Norm Ravvin/Sylvia Hotel
Chinatown print shop
Rock garden in Stanley Park
The lane house behind the Sands Hotel
Houses on Arbutus in Kitsilano and "Xanadu"
Clarke & Stuart bookstore on Seymour and the Rice Block on East Hastings
The Alexander Morrison family and their house in the West End
Vancouver-North Burnaby-Mission tramline proposal from 1912
John Oliver School/Mountain View etc. + Vancouver in the 1950s
Delmar Restaurant/Owl Drugs
Sid Beech + Vancouver Tamale Parlour
From Carl and DeDe Sparks about the North Van Ferry wharf, 2011: In your book "Vancouver Remembered" page 42, it is stated:- "In between at the foot of Columbia Street, the North Vancouver ferry wharf (and until 1947 the West Vancouver wharf) brought cars and people to the city via a subway underneath the CPR tracks". Our memory of the subway is that it was for pedestrians only. If a train blocked the level crossing, vehicles had to wait.
In the caption for the picture on page 43, it is stated:- "Access to the dock was by a subway under the CPR tracks at the foot of Columbia Street, visible in the foreground". We believe access to the dock was at the foot of Main Street. We think there was an over-pass to clear the tracks, but don't remember for sure.
From Tony Broscomb about Jones Tent & Awning, 2009: Can anyone having any information about the Jones Tent and Awning Company please contact me at johny.maple@gmail.com. Any information would be welcome, including copies of any relevant photographs. I was able to contact Edward Lipsett whose great grandfather started the company and found out that both Lipsett and Jones were sailmakers in Lunenburg and both ended up on the west coast. I have been unable to find out anything regarding their time in Lunenburg.
Note from Rick Maynard, 2009: I am now the proud owner of the Daffodil Orchard [painted on pages 146-7 of] Vanishing Vancouver. It is located at 51st and Balaclava Street. I have lived in Southlands all my life and every spring have admired the King Alfred daffodils. Drs Margaret and Lawrence Young, former owners, are in a retirement home and were very happy to have us buy the property because we guaranteed them we would preserve the orchard and flowers. We will continue farming the property as my son is graduating from UBC in Agriculture and it is his passion to put the property back into a market garden. The website for the farm is www.Southlandsfarms.com.
Note from Marie Wilson in Toronto, 2009: As I was reading about the Leslie House I glanced at your footnote to find my former landlady had written an article about it for the Sun. In the mid 70s I rented a room in Lois Light's house across from Tatlow Park. Her basement rented rooms to students and artists and upstairs sometimes she would play rousing renditions of The Entertainer on her piano! We called her house - The Light House.
I'm trying to find some information on the Devonshire Hotel and wonder if you could point me to a resource. I know it was demolished in 1981 (o woe!) and have even viewed a video of that demo. But I am trying to find out when the Dev went out of business ie when it was bought and boarded up - how long from then till its demo. I'm working on a book of fiction and photographs but some of the locals are real - like the Devonshire - and so I'm seeking out this particular detail: even a ballpark figure would do!
[Norm Ravvin wrote "Hidden Canada," including a chapter on the West End in the 1970s that I quoted from in the Preface. A list of his books is available on-line] I'm long overdue to write to tell you that last summer, on our routine Vancouver visit, I bought your Vancouver Remembered at a Book Warehouse. I was flattered to find that my work served yours a little, but most of all, as always, enjoyed the whole approach you take -- images, history, the exact note of nostalgia and wishful thinking over the way things have gone in the city over the years.
It's an odd response I get whenever I look in: a mixture of great pleasure at tracing streets and buildings I love, and then a real gut feeling of sadness over change that might have been avoided. But what a long story that is, and we're in the minority I guess, though the whole approach to preservation has shifted lately, even in Boomtown blow-it-all-up Calgary.
I gave a reading in Vancouver in early June and treated myself to a stay at the Sylvia for a few nights, which was a weird combination of pleasure and downbeat outcomes too. It's kind of Barton Fink upstairs, regardless of the perfect location for a hotel, especially for an ex-West Ender. But I enjoyed it in the end. There's still something old-fashioned about the way the servers talk in the bar, and the images up of Mr. Got to Go were a nice surprise, from a book done to great success by my one-time publisher at Red Deer. So, I did feel at home.
I'll continue to open the book and feel elated and sad at the same time. Maybe I'm the only one who relishes a particular colour of fall leaf you catch on a Shaughnessy Street. Maybe not.
Note from Connie Squire: My husband Earl's maternal great-grandfather came to Vancouver around 1910 and he set up a print shop in the local Chinatown. The business moved a few times and has been at its E.Georgia address for at least fifty years. I had the opportunity to visit the shop with a few friends and family members on Saturday June 7th, 2008. One of the visitors is an excellent photographer and he has posted his photos of the print shop online at the following address:
http://fury.smugmug.com/gallery/5117936_b7ud8#P-1-15
Note from Chris Hay: In 2000 I discovered a historic rock garden in Stanley Park that had become lost and forgotten for over 50 years. Eventually over a period of seven years I was finally able to trace its complete layout as well as the amazing story of its development. It was created by one man John Montgomery and at its peak was almost a mile in length and one of Stanley Parks largest man-made objects by area. Begun in 1911 from the very stones excavated during the construction of the Stanley Park Pavilion, this garden has been identified as one of Stanley Parks earliest man-made feature attractions. It is the earliest surviving public garden of both Stanley Park and the City of Vancouver and as such is of extremely important heritage value to both.
The devastating windstorm of December 15, 2006 was to provide the final clues of the garden's layout. This resulted in the story receiving national media attention as well as an article in B.C. Magazine. I have also written an article on the story of the rock garden in B.C. History Magazine. I am a member of the Vancouver Historical Society and they have been very interested in my discoveries regarding the rock garden. When I first started to research the garden at the Vancouver Archives and the VPL Special Collections there was no information on the rock garden or on John Montgomery. The VPL Special Collections had two wonderful photographs of the rock garden but no reference point to determine its exact location.
It was a few years later when I found several postcards showing the location near the pavilion.
It was then that I began a detailed research. The story had simply been slowly lost in time as no one had ever heard of it yet there was much detail in the parks board records and in the local newspapers. The garden flourished until about 1950. There was no mention of it in Mike Steele's books but it is found in some earlier books.
I also found an old 1940 colour silent movie created by the Vancouver Parks Board which shows the rock garden as one of their feature attractions. I am currently working with the Vancouver Heritage Department who are just completeing a Statement of Significance for the rock garden so that hopefuly it will be recognized as an historic site of both Stanley Park and the City of Vancouver.
Note from Floyd Gillis about the lane house behind the Sands Hotel: I was browsing through a Chapters store in Vancouver today and came across your book "Vancouver Remembered". Flipping through the pages I was surprised to see your illustration on page 131 of "The house in the alley behind the Sands Hotel". I lived in that house from the time I was born, (Dec, 1955), until I was about 7 years old.
Our family, (my parents and, at the time, 3 kids), lived on the top floor. A Mrs. O'Kane lived downstairs with her son Michael... whom I recall was the bully of our street. I believe the Henderson family owned both that little house and the larger one facing Pendrell Street. After 1756 Pendrell our family moved to a house at 1725 Pendrell, (now a concrete highrise), and later a house at 1032 Pacific, (now a low-rise apartment complex). We moved out of the West End around 1970 or 1971.
It amazes me how, with all the changes that have taken place in the West End over the years, this little house has survived and is still there. On those rare occasions when we're all in the city together, my bothers and sister and I stop by for what we always believe will be our last look at our old home. Attached is a photo from our most recent visit a few years ago.
When I was a kid, the West End was an amazing place to grow up. I remember being able to wander off all day with my friends and play along the beaches and all through Stanley Park... and we were only 5 years old! When we were a little older we loved to play in the high-rise construction sites, (after the workers had gone home for the day). We would mix cement, cut wood on circular saws, climb all over tractors and other construction equipment, and of course walk the open stairwells to the top floors, (still without walls), for the wonderful view... and maybe to throw a few things off the building too.
My father worked for many years at the Bay Lumber Company saw mill on False Creek. I had a summer job there... the graveyard shift, once a week, doing "clean-up". It was the worst job of my life.
I often wish my children could experience the kind of life I had while growing up in the West End. But then again, I would be terrified if they did the things we used to do.
From Kate Turney: I lived in Kerrisdale in the late 60's and in Kits for most of the 70's. Everytime we visit Vancouver (now live in Victoria & Quadra Island) I return to Kits for a bit of a wander.Problem is nothing is where it should be! Demolished!
While reading "Vancouver Remembered" I had a laugh when I saw your painting of "Tanner Manor' and "Xanadu" as I recall my godfather complaining about the houses and their residents back in 1969. He lived behind them.
Please refresh my memory; the Arbutus Grocery stands at 6th & Arbutus and I'm positive that just south of this spot on the east side of Arbutus there stood several small cottages (green in colour?) on a large tract of land. I don't recall that any of these homes were fenced and was amazed(at the time) that they sat on such a large property.
Do I have the correct location? If so, what a pity that they were razed. Were these little homes part of the St. Augustine parish? I wandered around the immediate neighbourhood however no other street "jumped" out at me which is why I think they were on Arbutus between 8th and Broadway.
[From MK: I don't recall small cottages there. I can remember a small bungalow facing 7th on the south side which had a very good vegetable garden in its back yard, and another small gabled one on the south side of 8th adjoining the tracks that often had a large pile of firewood in its yard. Can anyone help her with what was there?]
From Susan Rice: I'm a Vancouverite, yes - one of the (six?) born and raised here. Actually, both my parents were born here; two grandfathers were born here in 1898; and all four sets of great-grandparents lived here. (Do I set the record for the most generations in Vancouver for a non-aboriginal person?) Anyway, I've been searching for soulmates on the issue of preserving some of our historic architecture in development-crazy Vancouver. Like many Vancouverites, I frequently moan about the cost of living here. The high cost of real estate has, I think, added to some of the nostalgia I feel for the past.
I went to Churchill, but my mom went to Magee (it was a senior high school back then, so she also attended Point Grey and Crofton House). My dad, who grew up at 54th and Hudson, went to Vancouver College. Like you, I grew up in an area that has been heavily re-developed (49th and Granville area--my parents also grew up there), and I am often saddened when I revisit my childhood home. Miraculously, it is still standing, but it is really dwarfed by the newer homes around it. People often tell me I was fortunate to grow up in a neighbourhood that is now considered so "elite." And yes, I realize my good fortune having traveled to several other countries now. But having been economically privileged is not the issue. The issue is the sense of loss associated with not being able to reconnect with our childhood neighbourhoods in any kind of meaningful way. Even though Vancouver is full of people who have come here to make a new start and it seems "newness" is kind of a theme for this city, I think we all suffer unless we can make sense of our collective histories, including the history of the city itself.
Anyway, I have a couple of cool stories about reconnecting to my own family's past in Vancouver that I wanted to share with you. Firstly, I gave my mother one of your books for a Christmas present several years ago. We were surprised and proud to see it mentioned my great grandfather, Frank Wilkinson on page 65 of "Vanishing Vancouver." He had one of the businesses that used to be on Granville Island. Thanks for that, we were grateful.
Secondly, I found out that the building that housed my other great grandfather's bookstore was still standing downtown. Much to my surprise, his name was still visible on the north side of the building, despite being closed for 65 years! (If you have time, check out the building just north of A&B Sound on Seymour Street.) Clarke & Stuart Bookstore, my grandfather and great grandfather's store, was run out of that building for some 40 years. (The original location of the store was north of there, on Seymour at Hastings.) You'll see "Clarke" written on the north side of the second location near A&B Sound. And what's really cool is there is a much older sign beneath it. This building is not on the heritage registry.
Finally, my other great grandfather had a building constructed on East Hastings (back when it was safe to go there!) The building was in deplorable shape until last year when a thoughtful couple bought it and renovated it. They did so with a human touch, and many of the same tenants are in the building still. Recently, it was sold to the provincial government as part of their housing stock to help reduce homelessness. It is again in good shape even though it was built in 1912! It must have been a beautiful building back when it was built; a mural on the next corner has some of the history of the area and mentions the building. It is called "The Rice Block." I share the same last name.
From Sandra Buckingham about the Morrison family: I recently gave a copy of your book "Vancouver Remembered" to my mother for her 88th birthday. She was born in North Vancouver and grew up in Kitsilano. At her birthday party she started leafing through the book, and the photo of Alexander Morrison's West End manison triggered at least an hour's worth of memories, many of which I hadn't heard before.
Her father was raised by the Morrisons (his aunt and uncle) after the untimely death of his mother. My Mom remembers visiting that house every Sunday as a little girl (sitting quietly in the parlour). She recalls exactly the interior of the whole house, and described to us which room was behind which window, the foyer with its grand staircase, the stained glass windows, the murals of the Scottish highlands, the Encyclopedia Britannica in Gaelic (!). She said it was kind of spooky inside.
The Morrisons used to spend winters in the US, so the Vancouver place was really only a second home. In the winters my grandparents apparently kept an eye on it, sometimes living there for short periods. It made my Grandmother very nervous at night, when my Grandfather was at work (at the newspaper).
There's a photo of Alexander Morrison at the wheel of a steamer (car) that he built in his engineering works. I'd like to be able to say he was a grand old man, but apparently he was more like a gruff old codger rather feared by his employees, and his wife wasn't much fun either. I think my Mom was one of the few people who got along well with him.
Feel free to post my letter. It's too bad my Mom isn't computer-wise; she could rattle off a bunch of stories for you, including death-bed change of will and so-on.
Tom McCafferty has been researching an almost forgotten tramline that ran through his North Burnaby neighbourhood of Morton Park. (this file opens as a pdf in a separate window, 2.6 mb.)
Note from Betty Yeager (née Clements), Feb. 2007, about John Oliver School/Mountain View Cemetery and the ethnicity of old Vancouver:
You have mentioned the Mountain View cemetery. We lived kitty-corner to the south eastern corner of it, at 43rd and Prince Edward. It is where I was basically raised and went through Grades 4 - 8 at Van Horne Elementary and then to John Oliver High, and I left it on my wedding day at age 19.
My dad always called it "the boneyard" which I thought was hilarious at the time. It frightened me though when I had to walk past it alone in the dark or the times boys dared the girls to go into it at night, so tried to avoid it the best I could, although I always went in on a dare, quaking in my boots. I was sure some apparition would rise from a grave and chase me down theblock ...such a vivid imagination I had in those days, and I smile to think of that now. What more peaceful neighbours could one have?
John Oliver High was tops in sports when I was there. We had great athletes, especially a black guy named Wally Alexander who was a hero to every student for his athletic abilities in track, and the annual sports day was a highlight of our year when everyone would go to cheer our athletes on, especially Wally. Good old JO usually won over all the high schools in Vancouver.
I remember carrying my heavy first child, then 8 months old, to watch that famous 4 minute mile during a British Empire Games at Empire Stadium in 1954 as the contestants came home from their long run. It was a very hot August day and we had to walk a long way from the streetcar stop to the Games, and this child was already growing so fast and was so weighty I was exhausted when we arrived just in time to see the end of that epic race. It was thrilling and well worth the effort.
In Kerrisdale where my dad was raised, he told me that the lots around them were being sold for something like $50, but who had a spare $50? Certainly not him, nor anyone of ordinary circumstances, but I can well imagine what they're worth today.
My dad was the 4th born and first son in his family of 6 children, and by all accounts he was a real devil of a kid. I have a son who was exactly the same, not bad kids but just full of mischief and a sense of adventure not to be denied, and I absolutely adore kids like this. One of my grandsons is the very same--more delight for me to cherish.
When he had finished school, dad roamed around other parts of B.C. doing various jobs such as working in a cannery in both Bella Coola and Bella Bella, where he told us about a time when the Chinese cook chased him with a big butcher knife because Dad had raided his kitchen, or his adventures with the local Indians and learning about their culture. He had a dry sense of
humour and rarely laughed, but he sure did when he told us these tales.
In my youth I only knew one Chinese, one Sikh, one Japanese plus her grandma, one Jew, one black kid, no native Indian, so they were all novelties and especially kids didn't know how to treat them, but took our cues from our parents. Mine were both pretty much rednecks, especially my father, and I soon learned all the various derogatory names of these nationalities at home, plus the disrespect shown to them. Today's ethnic thousands would have killed my dad--he'd have been sure we were giving our lovely country away to third world peoples who would one day overrun Canada...
Note from Betty Yeager (née Clements), Feb. 2007, on the Vancouver of the 50s:
I worked at B.C. Electric as a steno in the early 1950s, but had to stop working there in 1953 as I was pregnant with my first child, and women who began to show their pregnancy were not allowed to work there, or anywhere actually.
Like your father, my dad was an employee of B.C. Electric for many years--from around 1929 to the 1960s, first as a motorman on the streetcars, then as a bus and trolley bus driver. He gave it up when, as a bus driver, someone got on his bus with a monkey in a cage and let the animal out, whereupon it roamed all over the bus scaring the passengers witless. My dad, the hero as always, chased the monkey until he caught it, whereupon it bit him on the hand and caused a deep, painful wound in poor dad's hand. He was almost at retirement age by then anyhow, and no doubt tired of his boring job and dealing with the public any longer.
My dad's parents were pioneers in Vancouver (surname Clements). Coming to Vancouver from Ontario and Quebec, they married in Vancouver in 1899 and every member of our extensive family since has been born, raised, and still lives in Vancouver, down to the present 4th generation Vancouverites, my grandchildren.
I myself was born in the old Vancouver General Hospital in December 1930, and oh, the changes I've seen over those years! I can remember wooden sidewalks, the Chinese man with his horse and buggy who delivered our fresh produce and always brought around a jar of candied ginger for us kids, the iceman who brought huge squares of ice for our icebox before we had a fridge, and always gave us slivers of ice to suck on, tar spread on the roads to keep the dust down (which we kids used to chew...ugh!), Sham Singh the woodman and his load of wood for our fireplaces and stoves, the coal bin we had in our basement to fire the furnace, licking the cream that rose to the top of the glass bottles of milk our milkman delivered every day, the postman who delivered our mail twice a day and was always invited in for a drink at Christmas so that sometimes when he got to our house he was pleasantly tipsy...so many pleasant memories of days gone by never to return. I tell my grandkids about some of this, and they listen wide eyed at this very different lifestyle than their own.
Dad was finally able to buy an old Ford with leather flaps for windows and had to be cranked up to get it going. I felt pretty proud going for a ride in this wonderful car.
A sweet friend of mine in Grades 1 - 3 named June Nakamoto disappeared one day in the early 1940s--she and her family had been shipped off to Greenwood for the duration of the war, and I never saw her again. Often she and I would go to her home after school to play and her old grannie gave us slices of bread spread with ketchup. It was wartime and food was rationed, but people always shared whatever they had with others. I missed June and her family for years.
I remember my dad going off to war, saving up to buy war stamps and bonds, babysitting for 25 cents an hour, buying a record at Treacher's on Fraser Street with my earnings for $1.00, my years at John Oliver High School, skating on the frozen pond in Memorial Park on a pair of well used skates we'd found in our basement, belonging to Sunset Memorial Teen Town and being voted the prettiest girl, dances on the tennis court near JO High on summer evenings, seeing my mother weep when she heard about yet another friend of my parents' being wounded or killed overseas, hopping on the streetcar along Main Street to go to work downtown at Carrall and Hastings Street, the smell of coffee being ground in that neighbourhood when I got off the streetcar, the devil's strip between coming and going streetcars which was a dangerous place always to be avoided, but especially how laid back and serene our beautiful city was at that time. There were no highrises downtown, the west end was full of lovely old homes, many of which were rooming houses, as was the east side and Fairview. Phone numbers had 4 digits prefixed by a name--Fraser, Alma, others I forget, and phones were wooden and often placed on walls in the hallways, and had party lines where nosy neighbours could listen to conversations of others. No TV of course, but our family always settled down to listen on the radio to the war news, Jack Benny, Mary and Rochester, or the Lux Radio Theatre, Fibber McGee and Molly, Bob Hope Radio Show, This Week's Hits, great entertainment all.
I've lived in West Vancouver since 1967 and seldom have to go downtown for anything, as we have everything we could possibly need right here on the North Shore, which I have also watched grow from a sleepy little community into what it is today--vastly grown, housing prices far too high for most people to afford, many more shops and facilities of every kind, but I still love it here and it is home. Sometimes I do take one of my grandkids downtown to roam around Robson Street or visit Queen Elizabeth Park, and I marvel at how this city has grown. I always take them there by bus, it's not only crazy driving downtown but it's very expensive to park there too. Actually, I don't like the city as much the way it is now, it is far too busy and crowded, everyone rushing around in such a hurry and the rude people I encounter who are too stressed to be polite or courteous. I wonder where the manners have gone...
Nevertheless, I am very, very happy that I lived in Vancouver during those earlier years when it was a rather small city and much less frantic than it is today. I am especially proud to be a member of a pioneer Vancouver family and find that it can be a real conversation piece if I bring it up in a conversation, as most people I know came from other places so don't have the history that I do.
Notes from Christopher M. Robertson, Feb 2007, mainly about the Delmar, also about Owl Drugs at 41st & Granville:
North Van Ferry wharf
Jones Tent & Awning
Daffodil field in Southlands
Lois Light's house at Tatlow Park/The Devonshire Hotel
Norm Ravvin/Sylvia Hotel
Chinatown print shop
Rock garden in Stanley Park
The lane house behind the Sands Hotel
Houses on Arbutus in Kitsilano and "Xanadu"
Clarke & Stuart bookstore on Seymour and the Rice Block on East Hastings
The Alexander Morrison family and their house in the West End
Vancouver-North Burnaby-Mission tramline proposal from 1912
John Oliver School/Mountain View etc. + Vancouver in the 1950s
Delmar Restaurant/Owl Drugs
Sid Beech + Vancouver Tamale Parlour
From Carl and DeDe Sparks about the North Van Ferry wharf, 2011: In your book "Vancouver Remembered" page 42, it is stated:- "In between at the foot of Columbia Street, the North Vancouver ferry wharf (and until 1947 the West Vancouver wharf) brought cars and people to the city via a subway underneath the CPR tracks". Our memory of the subway is that it was for pedestrians only. If a train blocked the level crossing, vehicles had to wait.
In the caption for the picture on page 43, it is stated:- "Access to the dock was by a subway under the CPR tracks at the foot of Columbia Street, visible in the foreground". We believe access to the dock was at the foot of Main Street. We think there was an over-pass to clear the tracks, but don't remember for sure.
From Tony Broscomb about Jones Tent & Awning, 2009: Can anyone having any information about the Jones Tent and Awning Company please contact me at johny.maple@gmail.com. Any information would be welcome, including copies of any relevant photographs. I was able to contact Edward Lipsett whose great grandfather started the company and found out that both Lipsett and Jones were sailmakers in Lunenburg and both ended up on the west coast. I have been unable to find out anything regarding their time in Lunenburg.
Note from Rick Maynard, 2009: I am now the proud owner of the Daffodil Orchard [painted on pages 146-7 of] Vanishing Vancouver. It is located at 51st and Balaclava Street. I have lived in Southlands all my life and every spring have admired the King Alfred daffodils. Drs Margaret and Lawrence Young, former owners, are in a retirement home and were very happy to have us buy the property because we guaranteed them we would preserve the orchard and flowers. We will continue farming the property as my son is graduating from UBC in Agriculture and it is his passion to put the property back into a market garden. The website for the farm is www.Southlandsfarms.com.
Note from Marie Wilson in Toronto, 2009: As I was reading about the Leslie House I glanced at your footnote to find my former landlady had written an article about it for the Sun. In the mid 70s I rented a room in Lois Light's house across from Tatlow Park. Her basement rented rooms to students and artists and upstairs sometimes she would play rousing renditions of The Entertainer on her piano! We called her house - The Light House.
I'm trying to find some information on the Devonshire Hotel and wonder if you could point me to a resource. I know it was demolished in 1981 (o woe!) and have even viewed a video of that demo. But I am trying to find out when the Dev went out of business ie when it was bought and boarded up - how long from then till its demo. I'm working on a book of fiction and photographs but some of the locals are real - like the Devonshire - and so I'm seeking out this particular detail: even a ballpark figure would do!
[Norm Ravvin wrote "Hidden Canada," including a chapter on the West End in the 1970s that I quoted from in the Preface. A list of his books is available on-line] I'm long overdue to write to tell you that last summer, on our routine Vancouver visit, I bought your Vancouver Remembered at a Book Warehouse. I was flattered to find that my work served yours a little, but most of all, as always, enjoyed the whole approach you take -- images, history, the exact note of nostalgia and wishful thinking over the way things have gone in the city over the years.
It's an odd response I get whenever I look in: a mixture of great pleasure at tracing streets and buildings I love, and then a real gut feeling of sadness over change that might have been avoided. But what a long story that is, and we're in the minority I guess, though the whole approach to preservation has shifted lately, even in Boomtown blow-it-all-up Calgary.
I gave a reading in Vancouver in early June and treated myself to a stay at the Sylvia for a few nights, which was a weird combination of pleasure and downbeat outcomes too. It's kind of Barton Fink upstairs, regardless of the perfect location for a hotel, especially for an ex-West Ender. But I enjoyed it in the end. There's still something old-fashioned about the way the servers talk in the bar, and the images up of Mr. Got to Go were a nice surprise, from a book done to great success by my one-time publisher at Red Deer. So, I did feel at home.
I'll continue to open the book and feel elated and sad at the same time. Maybe I'm the only one who relishes a particular colour of fall leaf you catch on a Shaughnessy Street. Maybe not.
Note from Connie Squire: My husband Earl's maternal great-grandfather came to Vancouver around 1910 and he set up a print shop in the local Chinatown. The business moved a few times and has been at its E.Georgia address for at least fifty years. I had the opportunity to visit the shop with a few friends and family members on Saturday June 7th, 2008. One of the visitors is an excellent photographer and he has posted his photos of the print shop online at the following address:
http://fury.smugmug.com/gallery/5117936_b7ud8#P-1-15
Note from Chris Hay: In 2000 I discovered a historic rock garden in Stanley Park that had become lost and forgotten for over 50 years. Eventually over a period of seven years I was finally able to trace its complete layout as well as the amazing story of its development. It was created by one man John Montgomery and at its peak was almost a mile in length and one of Stanley Parks largest man-made objects by area. Begun in 1911 from the very stones excavated during the construction of the Stanley Park Pavilion, this garden has been identified as one of Stanley Parks earliest man-made feature attractions. It is the earliest surviving public garden of both Stanley Park and the City of Vancouver and as such is of extremely important heritage value to both.
The devastating windstorm of December 15, 2006 was to provide the final clues of the garden's layout. This resulted in the story receiving national media attention as well as an article in B.C. Magazine. I have also written an article on the story of the rock garden in B.C. History Magazine. I am a member of the Vancouver Historical Society and they have been very interested in my discoveries regarding the rock garden. When I first started to research the garden at the Vancouver Archives and the VPL Special Collections there was no information on the rock garden or on John Montgomery. The VPL Special Collections had two wonderful photographs of the rock garden but no reference point to determine its exact location.
It was a few years later when I found several postcards showing the location near the pavilion.
It was then that I began a detailed research. The story had simply been slowly lost in time as no one had ever heard of it yet there was much detail in the parks board records and in the local newspapers. The garden flourished until about 1950. There was no mention of it in Mike Steele's books but it is found in some earlier books.
I also found an old 1940 colour silent movie created by the Vancouver Parks Board which shows the rock garden as one of their feature attractions. I am currently working with the Vancouver Heritage Department who are just completeing a Statement of Significance for the rock garden so that hopefuly it will be recognized as an historic site of both Stanley Park and the City of Vancouver.
Note from Floyd Gillis about the lane house behind the Sands Hotel: I was browsing through a Chapters store in Vancouver today and came across your book "Vancouver Remembered". Flipping through the pages I was surprised to see your illustration on page 131 of "The house in the alley behind the Sands Hotel". I lived in that house from the time I was born, (Dec, 1955), until I was about 7 years old.
Our family, (my parents and, at the time, 3 kids), lived on the top floor. A Mrs. O'Kane lived downstairs with her son Michael... whom I recall was the bully of our street. I believe the Henderson family owned both that little house and the larger one facing Pendrell Street. After 1756 Pendrell our family moved to a house at 1725 Pendrell, (now a concrete highrise), and later a house at 1032 Pacific, (now a low-rise apartment complex). We moved out of the West End around 1970 or 1971.
It amazes me how, with all the changes that have taken place in the West End over the years, this little house has survived and is still there. On those rare occasions when we're all in the city together, my bothers and sister and I stop by for what we always believe will be our last look at our old home. Attached is a photo from our most recent visit a few years ago.
When I was a kid, the West End was an amazing place to grow up. I remember being able to wander off all day with my friends and play along the beaches and all through Stanley Park... and we were only 5 years old! When we were a little older we loved to play in the high-rise construction sites, (after the workers had gone home for the day). We would mix cement, cut wood on circular saws, climb all over tractors and other construction equipment, and of course walk the open stairwells to the top floors, (still without walls), for the wonderful view... and maybe to throw a few things off the building too.
My father worked for many years at the Bay Lumber Company saw mill on False Creek. I had a summer job there... the graveyard shift, once a week, doing "clean-up". It was the worst job of my life.
I often wish my children could experience the kind of life I had while growing up in the West End. But then again, I would be terrified if they did the things we used to do.
From Kate Turney: I lived in Kerrisdale in the late 60's and in Kits for most of the 70's. Everytime we visit Vancouver (now live in Victoria & Quadra Island) I return to Kits for a bit of a wander.Problem is nothing is where it should be! Demolished!
While reading "Vancouver Remembered" I had a laugh when I saw your painting of "Tanner Manor' and "Xanadu" as I recall my godfather complaining about the houses and their residents back in 1969. He lived behind them.
Please refresh my memory; the Arbutus Grocery stands at 6th & Arbutus and I'm positive that just south of this spot on the east side of Arbutus there stood several small cottages (green in colour?) on a large tract of land. I don't recall that any of these homes were fenced and was amazed(at the time) that they sat on such a large property.
Do I have the correct location? If so, what a pity that they were razed. Were these little homes part of the St. Augustine parish? I wandered around the immediate neighbourhood however no other street "jumped" out at me which is why I think they were on Arbutus between 8th and Broadway.
[From MK: I don't recall small cottages there. I can remember a small bungalow facing 7th on the south side which had a very good vegetable garden in its back yard, and another small gabled one on the south side of 8th adjoining the tracks that often had a large pile of firewood in its yard. Can anyone help her with what was there?]
From Susan Rice: I'm a Vancouverite, yes - one of the (six?) born and raised here. Actually, both my parents were born here; two grandfathers were born here in 1898; and all four sets of great-grandparents lived here. (Do I set the record for the most generations in Vancouver for a non-aboriginal person?) Anyway, I've been searching for soulmates on the issue of preserving some of our historic architecture in development-crazy Vancouver. Like many Vancouverites, I frequently moan about the cost of living here. The high cost of real estate has, I think, added to some of the nostalgia I feel for the past.
I went to Churchill, but my mom went to Magee (it was a senior high school back then, so she also attended Point Grey and Crofton House). My dad, who grew up at 54th and Hudson, went to Vancouver College. Like you, I grew up in an area that has been heavily re-developed (49th and Granville area--my parents also grew up there), and I am often saddened when I revisit my childhood home. Miraculously, it is still standing, but it is really dwarfed by the newer homes around it. People often tell me I was fortunate to grow up in a neighbourhood that is now considered so "elite." And yes, I realize my good fortune having traveled to several other countries now. But having been economically privileged is not the issue. The issue is the sense of loss associated with not being able to reconnect with our childhood neighbourhoods in any kind of meaningful way. Even though Vancouver is full of people who have come here to make a new start and it seems "newness" is kind of a theme for this city, I think we all suffer unless we can make sense of our collective histories, including the history of the city itself.
Anyway, I have a couple of cool stories about reconnecting to my own family's past in Vancouver that I wanted to share with you. Firstly, I gave my mother one of your books for a Christmas present several years ago. We were surprised and proud to see it mentioned my great grandfather, Frank Wilkinson on page 65 of "Vanishing Vancouver." He had one of the businesses that used to be on Granville Island. Thanks for that, we were grateful.
Secondly, I found out that the building that housed my other great grandfather's bookstore was still standing downtown. Much to my surprise, his name was still visible on the north side of the building, despite being closed for 65 years! (If you have time, check out the building just north of A&B Sound on Seymour Street.) Clarke & Stuart Bookstore, my grandfather and great grandfather's store, was run out of that building for some 40 years. (The original location of the store was north of there, on Seymour at Hastings.) You'll see "Clarke" written on the north side of the second location near A&B Sound. And what's really cool is there is a much older sign beneath it. This building is not on the heritage registry.
Finally, my other great grandfather had a building constructed on East Hastings (back when it was safe to go there!) The building was in deplorable shape until last year when a thoughtful couple bought it and renovated it. They did so with a human touch, and many of the same tenants are in the building still. Recently, it was sold to the provincial government as part of their housing stock to help reduce homelessness. It is again in good shape even though it was built in 1912! It must have been a beautiful building back when it was built; a mural on the next corner has some of the history of the area and mentions the building. It is called "The Rice Block." I share the same last name.
From Sandra Buckingham about the Morrison family: I recently gave a copy of your book "Vancouver Remembered" to my mother for her 88th birthday. She was born in North Vancouver and grew up in Kitsilano. At her birthday party she started leafing through the book, and the photo of Alexander Morrison's West End manison triggered at least an hour's worth of memories, many of which I hadn't heard before.
Her father was raised by the Morrisons (his aunt and uncle) after the untimely death of his mother. My Mom remembers visiting that house every Sunday as a little girl (sitting quietly in the parlour). She recalls exactly the interior of the whole house, and described to us which room was behind which window, the foyer with its grand staircase, the stained glass windows, the murals of the Scottish highlands, the Encyclopedia Britannica in Gaelic (!). She said it was kind of spooky inside.
The Morrisons used to spend winters in the US, so the Vancouver place was really only a second home. In the winters my grandparents apparently kept an eye on it, sometimes living there for short periods. It made my Grandmother very nervous at night, when my Grandfather was at work (at the newspaper).
There's a photo of Alexander Morrison at the wheel of a steamer (car) that he built in his engineering works. I'd like to be able to say he was a grand old man, but apparently he was more like a gruff old codger rather feared by his employees, and his wife wasn't much fun either. I think my Mom was one of the few people who got along well with him.
Feel free to post my letter. It's too bad my Mom isn't computer-wise; she could rattle off a bunch of stories for you, including death-bed change of will and so-on.
Tom McCafferty has been researching an almost forgotten tramline that ran through his North Burnaby neighbourhood of Morton Park. (this file opens as a pdf in a separate window, 2.6 mb.)
Note from Betty Yeager (née Clements), Feb. 2007, about John Oliver School/Mountain View Cemetery and the ethnicity of old Vancouver:
You have mentioned the Mountain View cemetery. We lived kitty-corner to the south eastern corner of it, at 43rd and Prince Edward. It is where I was basically raised and went through Grades 4 - 8 at Van Horne Elementary and then to John Oliver High, and I left it on my wedding day at age 19.
My dad always called it "the boneyard" which I thought was hilarious at the time. It frightened me though when I had to walk past it alone in the dark or the times boys dared the girls to go into it at night, so tried to avoid it the best I could, although I always went in on a dare, quaking in my boots. I was sure some apparition would rise from a grave and chase me down theblock ...such a vivid imagination I had in those days, and I smile to think of that now. What more peaceful neighbours could one have?
John Oliver High was tops in sports when I was there. We had great athletes, especially a black guy named Wally Alexander who was a hero to every student for his athletic abilities in track, and the annual sports day was a highlight of our year when everyone would go to cheer our athletes on, especially Wally. Good old JO usually won over all the high schools in Vancouver.
I remember carrying my heavy first child, then 8 months old, to watch that famous 4 minute mile during a British Empire Games at Empire Stadium in 1954 as the contestants came home from their long run. It was a very hot August day and we had to walk a long way from the streetcar stop to the Games, and this child was already growing so fast and was so weighty I was exhausted when we arrived just in time to see the end of that epic race. It was thrilling and well worth the effort.
In Kerrisdale where my dad was raised, he told me that the lots around them were being sold for something like $50, but who had a spare $50? Certainly not him, nor anyone of ordinary circumstances, but I can well imagine what they're worth today.
My dad was the 4th born and first son in his family of 6 children, and by all accounts he was a real devil of a kid. I have a son who was exactly the same, not bad kids but just full of mischief and a sense of adventure not to be denied, and I absolutely adore kids like this. One of my grandsons is the very same--more delight for me to cherish.
When he had finished school, dad roamed around other parts of B.C. doing various jobs such as working in a cannery in both Bella Coola and Bella Bella, where he told us about a time when the Chinese cook chased him with a big butcher knife because Dad had raided his kitchen, or his adventures with the local Indians and learning about their culture. He had a dry sense of
humour and rarely laughed, but he sure did when he told us these tales.
In my youth I only knew one Chinese, one Sikh, one Japanese plus her grandma, one Jew, one black kid, no native Indian, so they were all novelties and especially kids didn't know how to treat them, but took our cues from our parents. Mine were both pretty much rednecks, especially my father, and I soon learned all the various derogatory names of these nationalities at home, plus the disrespect shown to them. Today's ethnic thousands would have killed my dad--he'd have been sure we were giving our lovely country away to third world peoples who would one day overrun Canada...
Note from Betty Yeager (née Clements), Feb. 2007, on the Vancouver of the 50s:
I worked at B.C. Electric as a steno in the early 1950s, but had to stop working there in 1953 as I was pregnant with my first child, and women who began to show their pregnancy were not allowed to work there, or anywhere actually.
Like your father, my dad was an employee of B.C. Electric for many years--from around 1929 to the 1960s, first as a motorman on the streetcars, then as a bus and trolley bus driver. He gave it up when, as a bus driver, someone got on his bus with a monkey in a cage and let the animal out, whereupon it roamed all over the bus scaring the passengers witless. My dad, the hero as always, chased the monkey until he caught it, whereupon it bit him on the hand and caused a deep, painful wound in poor dad's hand. He was almost at retirement age by then anyhow, and no doubt tired of his boring job and dealing with the public any longer.
My dad's parents were pioneers in Vancouver (surname Clements). Coming to Vancouver from Ontario and Quebec, they married in Vancouver in 1899 and every member of our extensive family since has been born, raised, and still lives in Vancouver, down to the present 4th generation Vancouverites, my grandchildren.
I myself was born in the old Vancouver General Hospital in December 1930, and oh, the changes I've seen over those years! I can remember wooden sidewalks, the Chinese man with his horse and buggy who delivered our fresh produce and always brought around a jar of candied ginger for us kids, the iceman who brought huge squares of ice for our icebox before we had a fridge, and always gave us slivers of ice to suck on, tar spread on the roads to keep the dust down (which we kids used to chew...ugh!), Sham Singh the woodman and his load of wood for our fireplaces and stoves, the coal bin we had in our basement to fire the furnace, licking the cream that rose to the top of the glass bottles of milk our milkman delivered every day, the postman who delivered our mail twice a day and was always invited in for a drink at Christmas so that sometimes when he got to our house he was pleasantly tipsy...so many pleasant memories of days gone by never to return. I tell my grandkids about some of this, and they listen wide eyed at this very different lifestyle than their own.
Dad was finally able to buy an old Ford with leather flaps for windows and had to be cranked up to get it going. I felt pretty proud going for a ride in this wonderful car.
A sweet friend of mine in Grades 1 - 3 named June Nakamoto disappeared one day in the early 1940s--she and her family had been shipped off to Greenwood for the duration of the war, and I never saw her again. Often she and I would go to her home after school to play and her old grannie gave us slices of bread spread with ketchup. It was wartime and food was rationed, but people always shared whatever they had with others. I missed June and her family for years.
I remember my dad going off to war, saving up to buy war stamps and bonds, babysitting for 25 cents an hour, buying a record at Treacher's on Fraser Street with my earnings for $1.00, my years at John Oliver High School, skating on the frozen pond in Memorial Park on a pair of well used skates we'd found in our basement, belonging to Sunset Memorial Teen Town and being voted the prettiest girl, dances on the tennis court near JO High on summer evenings, seeing my mother weep when she heard about yet another friend of my parents' being wounded or killed overseas, hopping on the streetcar along Main Street to go to work downtown at Carrall and Hastings Street, the smell of coffee being ground in that neighbourhood when I got off the streetcar, the devil's strip between coming and going streetcars which was a dangerous place always to be avoided, but especially how laid back and serene our beautiful city was at that time. There were no highrises downtown, the west end was full of lovely old homes, many of which were rooming houses, as was the east side and Fairview. Phone numbers had 4 digits prefixed by a name--Fraser, Alma, others I forget, and phones were wooden and often placed on walls in the hallways, and had party lines where nosy neighbours could listen to conversations of others. No TV of course, but our family always settled down to listen on the radio to the war news, Jack Benny, Mary and Rochester, or the Lux Radio Theatre, Fibber McGee and Molly, Bob Hope Radio Show, This Week's Hits, great entertainment all.
I've lived in West Vancouver since 1967 and seldom have to go downtown for anything, as we have everything we could possibly need right here on the North Shore, which I have also watched grow from a sleepy little community into what it is today--vastly grown, housing prices far too high for most people to afford, many more shops and facilities of every kind, but I still love it here and it is home. Sometimes I do take one of my grandkids downtown to roam around Robson Street or visit Queen Elizabeth Park, and I marvel at how this city has grown. I always take them there by bus, it's not only crazy driving downtown but it's very expensive to park there too. Actually, I don't like the city as much the way it is now, it is far too busy and crowded, everyone rushing around in such a hurry and the rude people I encounter who are too stressed to be polite or courteous. I wonder where the manners have gone...
Nevertheless, I am very, very happy that I lived in Vancouver during those earlier years when it was a rather small city and much less frantic than it is today. I am especially proud to be a member of a pioneer Vancouver family and find that it can be a real conversation piece if I bring it up in a conversation, as most people I know came from other places so don't have the history that I do.
Notes from Christopher M. Robertson, Feb 2007, mainly about the Delmar, also about Owl Drugs at 41st & Granville:
I am curious to know if you
have any memories or information, photos or otherwise on the old Delmar
Restaurant. As I recall it as a wonderful 1950s
and possibly early 60s eatery just south of 70th and Granville. Our family often went to dine there and as I recall it was famous for its 'Flamingo
Room', which was interestingly lit with green accent lights to give atmosphere. The food was always and guests were entertained with live organ
music nightly. Still, best of all was a huge vertical wheel, which was spun to offer the younger guests gifts to take home. Just a wonderful memory in
my life.
and possibly early 60s eatery just south of 70th and Granville. Our family often went to dine there and as I recall it was famous for its 'Flamingo
Room', which was interestingly lit with green accent lights to give atmosphere. The food was always and guests were entertained with live organ
music nightly. Still, best of all was a huge vertical wheel, which was spun to offer the younger guests gifts to take home. Just a wonderful memory in
my life.
I think I can deduce the
date that this eatery closed by just checking their ads in the vintage
Vancouver phone directories (Yellow Pages), at the
Vancouver Public Library. As for the eating outside as well as in the this restaurant, I do not think they had this service since outside was simply a
straightforward parking lot on the north side of the building. There was the Delnor just across the street and it did offer both but was more of a
hamburger joint like the White Spot.
[MK: I have the briefest note about it in Vancouver Remembered, page 117, as part of a page on restaurants of the 1950s-60s: "the White Spot and Delmar's fashionable Flamingo Room at 8615 Granville gave the option of car service," this based on restaurant review-listings in Western Homes & Living Magazine, May, 1956, a copy of which I had.]
What really sticks in my mind about the Delnor was the element it attracted. What you would see there on a typical drive-by were hotrods and lots of bikers. The fare was cheap hamburgers, chips and Cokes. Still, I can't remember it ever not being busy. It was located just south of 70th on the east side where the strip mall is now.
[MK: All I can remember of the Delnor is an afternoon with a girl I really wanted in my friend Glen Mohr's borrowed VW, which included a stop there.]
Another area that holds a great deal of good memories for me was 41st and Granville. After leaving the barbers at 57th, I moved on to the little barber's shop on the southwest side of the 41st and Granville strip mall. The move was more for the better reading material than anything else and this shop had a large stack of just great comics on a small table between the waiting chairs. Owl Drugs just a few doors north in the mall carried the pink cream soda that I was totally addicted to and also various Men's adventure magazines that seemed, for some strange reason, to be a great draw for us early teens. I recall one very embarrassing episode that involved both the soda and these mags when on a very warm day I tried to guzzle an entire bottle of this cherry concoction. Of course it went up my nose and all over the rather questionable page I was viewing (much to the interest and I guess disgust of everyone in the store). The clerk made me pay for the magazine and sent me home to show it to my father. Such antics were definitely not well received and cost me my allowance for that entire month! I also remember Brown Brothers Motors on the northeast corner, where we would spend hours sitting in the new cars in their show room until we were kicked out. 41st and Granville was a transfer stop for may private school kids, making their way home and a great place for Athlone boys to pick up Crofton House lovelies. Private school girls always seemed to be a wild bunch as I remember, especially those that attended the Catholic schools!!
[MK: the building at 41st and Granville, on the southwest corner, was a two-storey flat-roofed commercial block with Spanish-style trimmings and little bits of faux roof covered in orange tiles. The second floor, above the Owl Drugs, had doctors' offices, including that of Dr. E.S. (?) James, whom we went to for our numerous childhood complaints. The stairs up from the street -- he can't have had any handicapped patients -- were steep, hard, dark-brown linoleum, and creaked underfoot, as did the floor in the hallway. And it smelled, an unmistakable aroma of cleaning fluid, steam heat, fear and sickness. The door from the hallway opened onto a narrow space with coat racks and a small cubicle for the receptionist/nurse on the left hand side, beyond which was a large room usually full of sniffling children and harried mothers, comic books and piles of Reader's Digests, hard wooden, easy-to-clean chairs interspersed with a few worn padded chairs of a kind of scratchy upholstery that was shaved into leafy arabesques. Two big sash windows, usually semi-opaque with condensation, looked out onto the narrow parking lot and Granville Street. You were there for a long time, waiting, waiting. He was always behind. His examining room reeked of disinfectant and the steamy vapour from the sterilizer in which he kept his collection of stainless steel syringes. Childhood was all about getting shots. Ironically, the only thing I remember about Owl Drugs was buying condoms there when I was 16, believing accurately that it was far enough from home I wouldn't be recognized.]
Note from Sally Wilson, Sechelt, Feb 2007:
Hi......... Stumbled upon your site while looking for any information that may be available re: Sid Beech's recipe for his World Famous Tamales that came served with an incredible sauce ! My parents introduced me to his restaurant when I was about 10 years old (that would be 55 years ago now).
I was so impressed that I took my friend there for lunch when we were both 13 and thought we were all grown up. My parents & I moved to Prince Rupert B.C. around 1953 (a fairly remote area up north) and my Father craved Sid's Tamales so much that he made a request to have some flown up to us. I remember they arrived packed, sauce & all, in milk jugs ! In any case I've spent a good part of my life trying to duplicate that sauce, the recipe for which it was rumored, Sid took with him to the grave. So when I saw the reference from his Granddaughter Kelly Berg and the fact that Sid's wife Patricia was still alive I became instantly selfish and want to BEG for the sauce recipe if anyone has it.
[Post script: The Wilsons made contact with the Bergs in the USA, but so far the sauce recipe has eluded them. Sid Beech and the Vancouver Tamale parlour are on page 85 of the book. The earlier reference to Sid Beech from Kelly Berg is in the Vanishing BC section.]
Vancouver Public Library. As for the eating outside as well as in the this restaurant, I do not think they had this service since outside was simply a
straightforward parking lot on the north side of the building. There was the Delnor just across the street and it did offer both but was more of a
hamburger joint like the White Spot.
[MK: I have the briefest note about it in Vancouver Remembered, page 117, as part of a page on restaurants of the 1950s-60s: "the White Spot and Delmar's fashionable Flamingo Room at 8615 Granville gave the option of car service," this based on restaurant review-listings in Western Homes & Living Magazine, May, 1956, a copy of which I had.]
What really sticks in my mind about the Delnor was the element it attracted. What you would see there on a typical drive-by were hotrods and lots of bikers. The fare was cheap hamburgers, chips and Cokes. Still, I can't remember it ever not being busy. It was located just south of 70th on the east side where the strip mall is now.
[MK: All I can remember of the Delnor is an afternoon with a girl I really wanted in my friend Glen Mohr's borrowed VW, which included a stop there.]
Another area that holds a great deal of good memories for me was 41st and Granville. After leaving the barbers at 57th, I moved on to the little barber's shop on the southwest side of the 41st and Granville strip mall. The move was more for the better reading material than anything else and this shop had a large stack of just great comics on a small table between the waiting chairs. Owl Drugs just a few doors north in the mall carried the pink cream soda that I was totally addicted to and also various Men's adventure magazines that seemed, for some strange reason, to be a great draw for us early teens. I recall one very embarrassing episode that involved both the soda and these mags when on a very warm day I tried to guzzle an entire bottle of this cherry concoction. Of course it went up my nose and all over the rather questionable page I was viewing (much to the interest and I guess disgust of everyone in the store). The clerk made me pay for the magazine and sent me home to show it to my father. Such antics were definitely not well received and cost me my allowance for that entire month! I also remember Brown Brothers Motors on the northeast corner, where we would spend hours sitting in the new cars in their show room until we were kicked out. 41st and Granville was a transfer stop for may private school kids, making their way home and a great place for Athlone boys to pick up Crofton House lovelies. Private school girls always seemed to be a wild bunch as I remember, especially those that attended the Catholic schools!!
[MK: the building at 41st and Granville, on the southwest corner, was a two-storey flat-roofed commercial block with Spanish-style trimmings and little bits of faux roof covered in orange tiles. The second floor, above the Owl Drugs, had doctors' offices, including that of Dr. E.S. (?) James, whom we went to for our numerous childhood complaints. The stairs up from the street -- he can't have had any handicapped patients -- were steep, hard, dark-brown linoleum, and creaked underfoot, as did the floor in the hallway. And it smelled, an unmistakable aroma of cleaning fluid, steam heat, fear and sickness. The door from the hallway opened onto a narrow space with coat racks and a small cubicle for the receptionist/nurse on the left hand side, beyond which was a large room usually full of sniffling children and harried mothers, comic books and piles of Reader's Digests, hard wooden, easy-to-clean chairs interspersed with a few worn padded chairs of a kind of scratchy upholstery that was shaved into leafy arabesques. Two big sash windows, usually semi-opaque with condensation, looked out onto the narrow parking lot and Granville Street. You were there for a long time, waiting, waiting. He was always behind. His examining room reeked of disinfectant and the steamy vapour from the sterilizer in which he kept his collection of stainless steel syringes. Childhood was all about getting shots. Ironically, the only thing I remember about Owl Drugs was buying condoms there when I was 16, believing accurately that it was far enough from home I wouldn't be recognized.]
Note from Sally Wilson, Sechelt, Feb 2007:
Hi......... Stumbled upon your site while looking for any information that may be available re: Sid Beech's recipe for his World Famous Tamales that came served with an incredible sauce ! My parents introduced me to his restaurant when I was about 10 years old (that would be 55 years ago now).
I was so impressed that I took my friend there for lunch when we were both 13 and thought we were all grown up. My parents & I moved to Prince Rupert B.C. around 1953 (a fairly remote area up north) and my Father craved Sid's Tamales so much that he made a request to have some flown up to us. I remember they arrived packed, sauce & all, in milk jugs ! In any case I've spent a good part of my life trying to duplicate that sauce, the recipe for which it was rumored, Sid took with him to the grave. So when I saw the reference from his Granddaughter Kelly Berg and the fact that Sid's wife Patricia was still alive I became instantly selfish and want to BEG for the sauce recipe if anyone has it.
[Post script: The Wilsons made contact with the Bergs in the USA, but so far the sauce recipe has eluded them. Sid Beech and the Vancouver Tamale parlour are on page 85 of the book. The earlier reference to Sid Beech from Kelly Berg is in the Vanishing BC section.]