But one Saturday morning in 1911 all that changed. I was selling papers in front of Ashdown's on Main Street when a friend, Charlie Shane, came along carrying a calendar. In those days decorated calendars were especially desirable because they adorned the living room walls of many a home (who could afford paintings!) So I asked Charlie, "Where'd you get that!"

"I got it from the National Drug and Chemical Company on Princess," he replied. "They're giving them away."

In no time, I was walking down Princess Street, looking for the National Drug and Chemical Company. I found it at the same moment that a man came out of the building and hung a sign on the door, reading "Boy Wanted". I hurried over, took the sign down, went inside and asked for the job. They hired me on the spot.

At first I was a messenger boy, on a company-owned bicycle. Pay was S3.00 a week, hours were 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. weekdays, and half-days on Saturdays. Soon I was promoted to the warehouse to help fill orders, and then to the chemical laboratory itself.

The work in the lab so fascinated me that I was determined to become a pharmacist. This required working for three years in a drug store as an apprentice under the supervision of a qualified pharmacist. So, after a year with National Drugs I took a job in a drug store at Higgins and Main.

A short time later a new drug store, much bigger and more attractive, opened on the corner of Logan and Main. I approached the owner, Thornton Andrews, for a job. "Why come here for a job!" he asked. I responded, "I like your store. I want to work here." That answer, coupled with over a year's experience in the pharmacy business, gave me the job. It paid $5.00 a week!

Mr. Andrews and the several clerks in his store soon encouraged me to carry my education through to matriculation so that I could enter the eight-month course in the College of Pharmacy. If I made the grade, I would be qualified to fill prescriptions myself, and even run my own drug store. To me, this was a goal worth working for.

To secure my matriculation, I needed the services of a tutor. I found a Mr. Houston, and began seeing him every Tuesday and Thursday from 7:00 to 9:00 p.m. for almost two years. It cost me $3.00 a week, but it was well worth it for Mr. Houston encouraged me so much.

By September 1913, I was qualified to enroll in the first four-month period at the Manitoba College of Pharmacy. That first period, to December, went well for me and I passed fairly easily. The second period, though, required aâ fee of $65.00 which I did not have and could not scrape up. The result was I had to stay away for that period and missed graduating with the rest of my class.

Out of work and broke, I scanned the newspapers for job ads, and saw one for an experienced drug clerk in Hanna, Alberta. My application must have impressed for not only did I get the job but an advance for the train fare to Alberta.

During my employment in Hanna, the First World War broke out. Many of the local young men enlisted, and I so badly wanted to go with them. But since I was a bit under age I first had to obtain mother's consent. I quit my job and went home.

When I spoke to mother about enlisting she almost went into shock. Memories of the Old Country shook her. The pogroms she had witnessed, the raiding of her village by rowdy soldiers, the destruction, the torment, all the reasons for our leaving Roumania came to her mind. These disturbing events had been forgotten during our years in Canada; now she remembered them.

"We have a nice life in Canada," I told her, "and it is up to one of us five boys to show our appreciation of this freedom."

My mother was full of fear and anguish.

"Every child is a piece of a mother's heart," she said, "and if one piece is broken, the whole heart is forever damaged." I did not enlist then.

While I had been working in Hanna the old Manitoba College of Pharmacy had turned over its teaching function to the University of Manitoba. The University had established a Faculty of Pharmacy, with a course lasting two full academic years. The first year had just ended.

Assuming I had already received half the necessary education, I presented myself at the University for the second term.

"Sorry. You do not have the required credits," the registrar, Mr. Spence, informed me.

"It's not my fault the course was changed," I argued. Apparently I was the only applicant with that problem. But after some discussion, Mr. Spence finally accepted my application, although with some misgivings.

I found the course very difficult, especially since I had to keep up my studies while working several evenings a week at the drug store. With the help and encouragement of several fine professors, I just barely passed.

It was with considerable joy and pride of achievement that I became the possessor of a University of Manitoba diploma in Pharmacy, class of 1916.

Soon after graduation, I worked in the Portage Ave. store of Louis K. Liggett Co. The war was raging fiercely at that time and the pressure for men to enlist was inescapable. Despite my mother's misgivings, I left Liggett's after a few months and joined the army. I was attached to the 76th Battery C.F.A. Soon I was promoted to sergeant. The rank entitled me to a horse and a mounted escort.

While training in Winnipeg I was able to visit my mother a few times. She lived on Alfred Ave. near the river. The first time I visited her, accompanied by my escort, the clop clop of our horses brought the neighbours out of their homes. I dismounted and walked up to our house, my spurs jingling. It became a moment of triumph. A Jewish boy in the army, attended by an escort! It was unheard of in the Old Country.

My mother looked at me, turned to her neighbours and proudly said, "That's my son!"

At that moment I knew for certain she was reconciled to my enlistment.

After demobilization in the spring of 1919 I rejoined Liggett's but in a very short time secured a managerial position with A. J. Roberts drug store at Sherbrooke and Logan Ave.

It was while working at Roberts that I met Hattie Lauer. Hattie was a teacher at the Cecil Rhodes School, and transferred from one streetcar to another in front of the drug store. I never missed being in front when her streetcar was due.

As Hattie and I got to know each other better, thoughts of marriage and owning my own store were uppermost in my mind. Near the end of 1919 a drug store at Notre Dame and Edmonton St. was bought by an investor who was not a druggist. He wanted me to manage his store, Central Drugs Limited, at a much better salary than I was making. I accepted. Although it wasn't my own business, it was the next best thing.

Hattie and I were married a year later on November 3, 1920. We lived in an apartment on William Avenue, close to the drug store, so Hattie frequently helped me. When our first child, Dorothy, arrived we left the apartment and bought a house on Machray Ave. Our son Marshall and daughter Phyllis were born while in that home.

One day a doctor friend of mine, who had just returned from studying in England, gave me a formula for the treatment of stomach troubles, especially ulcers. I prepared that formula and put it up in small cartons. Soon it be came so popular that people came for it from every corner of the city. We called it Wilder's Stomach Powder. An advertising man induced me to prepare a nice can with an attractive label and advertise my remedy in the Free Press Prairie Farmer. It was a miracle! Mail orders came in every morning, often amounting to more than I took in the store for the whole day.

Then, my wife visited her sister in Detroit who had just had a baby. Hattie found her using a remedy for teething which seemed very effective in relieving the pain. She brought a bottle home for me to examine. I broke it down, added a few refinements in taste and effectiveness. After an ad or two in the Prairie Farmer the same miracle happened. Orders kept rolling in.

It wasn't long before other drug stores asked for my products, and soon both products were selling nation wide.

The absentee store owner allowed me to retain the profits from the sale of the two remedies. This revenue coupled with some money Hattie had saved, enabled us, by 1926, to purchase the business.

At last, we had our own drug store. The boy from Ploiesti had finally made it.

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