Here are some which stand out in my memory...
Sandwiched between two stores on Main Street, just north of Logan, was a little shop no more than eight or ten feet wide with a big sign in the window: "Mitchell Gordon, Foreign Exchange".
Mr. Gordon was a little man, but had a big heart. He was always smiling, always pleasant and helpful. He ran a successful business changing foreign money for Canadian, and sending people's money to their families in the Old Country. He also arranged transportation for people bringing their friends or relatives to Winnipeg and for those returning to the Old Country for a visit.
In those days of the immigration boom, agents like Mitchell Gordon had a lot of business. People were constantly coming and going across the Atlantic, always by steamship, of course. "Going home for Christmas" was the agents' catch phrase then, just as "Winter in Hawaii" is now.
I often passed by Mr. Gordon's shop and looked in the window at all the foreign money. One day I was surprised to see a number of coins and bills bearing the picture of King Carol of Roumania. His was a face I knew well, having been taught about the king at school in Roumania.
I told my father about it and he lost no time going down to see Mr. Gordon. My father still had some money he brought with him from Roumania, and he was anxious to exchange it for good Canadian currency. Yes, Roumania was a good place to come from . . .come away from, that is. My father wanted nothing that would remind him of the country he had been forced to leave.
One more thing I remember well about Mitchell Gordon was that he always read the headlines on my papers, but never bought one. I didn't mind, though, because he always had a smile and a good story for me.
When selling papers, I often heard uncomplimentary remarks about certain Main Street merchants. But when Alloway and Champion were mentioned, it was always with respect.
Like many businesses of the day, Alloway and Champion performed several services. They were steamship agents, bankers, and friends to the immigrant. Their chief function was to loan money to people bringing their families over from the Old Country. They often also arranged the transportation for such ventures.
People of all ethnic backgrounds felt at home at this bank. The clerks spoke many different languages Polish, Ukrainian, Russian, German, Roumanian, Yiddish, Swedish and probably many others. Every customer, no matter what his or her background or situation, was treated with courtesy and understanding. At the end of his career, Mr. Alloway established the Winnipeg Foundation, a lasting proof of his desire to help others.
At the south end of Main Street stood Winnipeg's finest department store. My friends and I had read about the Hudson's Bay Company in our history books, so we were naturally attracted to their store and often wandered through it.
The place had a unique atmosphere. It was rich with unusual and interesting smells. For one thing, other stores had either linoleum or paint on their floors, but the Hudson's Bay store had oiled wooden floors with their characteristic odour.
One could buy everything, including liquor and tobacco. There were open bins and sacks of dried beans and peas, rice, sugar, flour, tea, coffee - all sold by the pound. We learned all about the famous point blankets, and about guns and ammunition.
Most of all, we were fascinated by the piles of raw furs, and the wide variety of traps. There were traps for beaver, wolf, bear, fox and the smaller animals like mink, muskrat and ermine. The clerks were very kind and often took time to tell us what the different furs were, and how the various traps worked.
There we also saw Indians for the first time, squatting on the sidewalk outside the store. Indian men, women and children would spend hours and hours in the same spot, sitting cross-legged on their blankets, never stirring.
Sometimes I tried to speak to them, even just to say hello. But they would just stare in silence. Once, I gave one a newspaper; he accepted it, put it down and sat on it. Hours later, I returned and he was still there, still sitting on the newspaper beside his friends, impassive and unmoving.
For well over a year, reports about the coming of a big new store called Eaton's were frequent in all three news papers. When the store was finally completed in 1905, it was an event that created quite a stir around the city. Newspapers were full of it, and the small merchants were fearful that their businesses would suffer; It was even rumoured that there would soon be jobs for everybody at Eaton 's.
Timothy Eaton himself attended the grand opening with his little son. He announced that the store's pricing policy would be firm, with no dickering and no bargaining. Everything was to be sold at the price marked. That was a major innovation for the times. And every item was fully guaranteed; if you were not satisfied with what you had purchased it could be returned and your money refunded.
These policies made it a very well-patronized store. Every newspaper printed a full-page Eaton's advertisement on the back page, and often people would grab a paper from me and immediately turn to the back for Eaton's sale items. These advertisements continued day after day, year after year, and "Eaton's" and "Sale" soon became household words. I would not be surprised if some children learned the word Eaton's before any other.
James H. Ashdown was a former tinsmith who became one of Winnipeg's most successful and influential businessmen. He established a big hardware store on the corner of Main and Bannatyne, and it was one of the cleanest and most orderly establishments in town.
Mr. Ashdown was one of that small number of citizens who practically ran things in Winnipeg. Virtually nothing of importance, whether social or political, happened without James Ash down's involvement. He was small in stature, but he had the drive and energy of several men. He served on the Hospital Board for several years, and was the mayor of Winnipeg in 1907-1908.
The Ashdown corner was also "my corner"; I used to keep my bundle of papers in his doorway. He didn't like that, because he was an orderly, tidy man. But I respected him a great deal for the pride he took in his store. Unlike many other merchants, he had his windows washed frequently, and the sidewalk outside his store was swept daily.
Among the many other stores, I particularly remember The Fair Store run by George Frankfurter. He was one of the first Jewish merchants in Winnipeg and also one of the first in Winnipeg to own an automobile. This was an early Stanley Steamer, so named because it ran with steam power. And on the west side of Main near Henry was a small store called The Busy Bee, a combination jewellery store and auction room. It was run by Max Steiman, another small man with boundless energy.
I also remember some of the early restaurants: Bowes Dairy Lunch, the first self-serve restaurant which opened in 1912 at 482 Main; the Venice Cafe run by the Cancilla brothers on Portage Avenue; Del's Candy Store, which made the most delicious almond crisp, and also introduced soft ice cream to the city.
One of the busiest places was the Manitoba Hall, a ballroom located on the upper floor at 291W Portage Ave. It was quite an elegant establishment in its time, with a fine dance floor and an elevated stage in the corner for the band.
The hall was a favourite spot for gala balls, large parties, weddings and dances of all description. Whenever an important visitor arrived in Winnipeg, he invariably would be honoured by a reception at Manitoba Hall.
A dancing teacher named Professor Zimmerman ran a dance studio next door to the ballroom. He was a tall man, straight and erect yet very graceful. The Professor taught rhythm, deportment, and ballroom dancing: the fox trot, the waltz, the schottiche, the two-step, and that new dance, the tango.
While selling our papers along Portage Avenue, my pals and I used to watch the rich kids being brought by carriage to Professor Zimmerman's Dance Studio. They were so neat and clean and sissy-looking to us, we used to laugh and poke fun at them. I used to wonder if they ever played or roughed it up in the school yard and back lane as we did. They seemed like people from another world.
On the south side of Broadway, a few steps from Main Street, was an imposing red brick building surrounded by well-groomed grounds. It was the Manitoba Club, and was always a mystery to me.
Every day I would bring my papers (they took all three) to the front door and push the door bell. A man in uniform would come and pay me in exact change, never a tip, then turn around and march back into the building. At no time was I allowed to cross the threshold.
I could never see anything going on in the building, but often, especially around noon hour, I would see the men who entered it. I figured they must be big-shots because they wore well-cut clothes, often top hats and fur-lined overcoats with fur collars. Some sported carefully groomed beards and moustaches.
Many arrived in horse-drawn carriages in groups of two or three. The carriage drivers would step down from their perch, open the door, and snap a military salute as the men stepped out. Some of the gentlemen would acknowledge the salute with a smile and a nod. Others would just stride briskly away.
I could tell there was a big difference between these and the majority of other men. And although by this time I had come to recognize many of the merchants and businessmen who entered the building, it was not until years later that I learned what went on in the Manitoba Club. Within its walls was the real power behind the city and provincial governments. More important business was carried on there, and more huge deals were arranged, than in any place of business in the city.
Winnipeg has always been a major centre for the grain industry, and this was certainly the case at the turn of the century. The Grain Exchange building was one of the busiest in the city, a real hive of buyers and sellers when the grain market was open.
The Exchange was built in 1898 in the bustling business district behind City Hall on Princess Street. I soon found it was a great spot for a newsboy; people kept going in and out of that building all day. I sold plenty of papers in front of the Exchange Building and along Market Square.
The grain market closed at 4:30 p.m., and every day at about that time there was an explosion of people rushing out of the building. It seems the grain trading business was a tension-filled one, because most of these men headed straight for their favourite saloon.
I noticed the best-dressed and most prosperous-looking of the crowd would make a bee-line for the Mariaggi Hotel at McDermott and Albert. The telegraph operators, in their characteristic black sleeves, would hurry to the nearby Kings, Drake and Bank Hotels. Those in between would make for the Savoy. But no matter which hotel they chose, you can be sure they all ended up "unwinding" the same way.
The Grain Exchange moved into a new building on Lombard Avenue in 1908, and from that time on the 4:30 parade ended at the Grange Hotel across the street.
There were a number of small hotels scattered along Main Street between the C.P.R. station and City Hall. Each one had one thing in common - inviting, wide-open bars that all seemed to do a steady business. Each, of course, had its own character: some were clean and orderly, some boisterous, and a few were seedy places that attracted the idlers, the drunks and the loose women. The paddy wagon was often seen in this area, while farther south on Main Street things were generally more peaceful.
The Mariaggi Hotel was the city's most fashionable hotel in the early 1900's. Located at McDermot and Albert, it was in the middle of the warehouse district, and frequently the wholesalers met at the bar for a drink and shop talk. The hotel was noted for its elegant dining room and for a special dining room for ladies only. Before the Royal Alexandra opened, the Mariaggi was the meeting place for the carriage trade and after-theatre suppers.
Then there was the Bell Hotel on Main near Higgins. How well I remember Mr. Bronfman, the owner, carrying the baggage of his guests from the C.P.R. station to the hotel. You may recognize the name - Sam Bronfman later went on to become a famous multi-millionaire in the distilling business. But in those days, he was a Winnipeg hotel keeper who made sure his guests were well taken care of.
Another popular spot was the Queens Hotel, on Portage Avenue just west of Main. It was a lively, bustling place where people came to see and be seen. The Queens boasted having the longest bar in the West. I often recall going into the Queens bar with my papers, and it was always crowded any time of day or evening. It was a relaxed, friendly place, full of good cheer and laughter.
The Empire Hotel, at the south end of Main Street, never gained the fashionable clientele it was expecting. It was an elegant, stately structure, originally built as a business block and later converted to a hotel. Located next door to the Great Northern Railway Station, it was mostly frequented by travellers and railway people. When the C.N.R. took over the Great Northern Railway and built the Union Station, many C.N.R. employees took up permanent residence in the Empire. As a newsboy, I never sold any papers there. It seemed to me to be a hard luck hotel ever since it opened.
The Royal Alexandra Hotel opened in 1906 - a truly majestic structure. The "Royal Alex" was a luxury hotel from the start, and other hotel owners watched with distress as their more affluent clientele gravitated to the newer establishment. For several years all the important social, political, academic and business affairs were held there.
Then, in 1913, the Fort Garry Hotel opened. It was even more palatial than the Royal Alexandra, and was furnished in old-fashioned opulence. Owned by the C.N.R., it was largely patronized by politicians and the more affluent industrialists. Until a few years ago, the Fort Garry and the Royal Alex divided all the important social affairs between them.
Downtown Winnipeg in 1910 had about 20 hotels. Each one had a "hotel hustler" and maintained a carriage with the hotel name painted on its side, drawn by one or two horses. Some just had the standard horse and buggy, others had a fancy coach or something even more elaborate.
You could see these rigs lined up in front of the railway station whenever the passenger trains were arriving, and this was quite often in those days. The drivers would stand beside their rigs and call out the names of their hotels, competing with one another for customers.
Few travellers arriving in Winnipeg knew in advance which hotel they were going to, so most relied for guidance on the overall look of the various carriages. Some would head for a plain, inexpensive looking carriage, assuming the hotel would be the same, the fancier the carriage, the fancier the accommodation.
After each driver loaded his vehicle with customers, he'd whip his horses to a fast trot, rush to his hotel, unload the people, and rush back to the station for another load. The hotel business was a very competitive one, and they all had to hustle.
The Fort Garry Hotel had the most attractive conveyance. It was a large coach, much like a bus, painted brown and gold and drawn by a pair of well-groomed horses. Two men in fancy livery attended it; unlike their compatriots, they didn't shout for attention but just stood apart in quiet, elegant detachment. The Fort Garry's guests would head toward them as a matter of course.
On the other hand, the Royal Alexandra Hotel had no need of a carriage because it was right next door to the C.P.R. station. Instead, it had a tunnel direct from the station rotunda to the hotel, where a uniformed groom stood ready to escort the guests and cart their baggage on a small hand truck.
When I was young, movies were not yet the big thing, but live theatre was. Many of the biggest names in show business appeared in Winnipeg's theatres.
The Unique Theatre is the first one I remember. It was located on the east side of Main Street near Market Avenue. It was a small theatre with a gallery surrounding the main floor. The management presented vaudeville acts most of the time, and occasionally a silent movie. I well recall seeing Al Jolson perform there, and a comedian named Fatty Arbuckle.
The Bijou Theatre opened with a lot of ballyhoo around 1910 (the exact date has been the subject of some argument lately), on Main Street between William and Bannatyne. It was considered a magnificent place for its time, with an elegant carpeted lobby filled with mirrors and more lights than my friends and I had ever seen in any theatre.
In 1907 the Walker Theatre opened. In the evenings or on holidays I got a job helping to shift scenery, and learned quite a bit about what happened behind the scenes, especially with musicals. But mostly it was an exciting treat to see the celebrities backstage. Meeting people like Tetrazini, Melba, Mansfield and Caruso gave me quite a thrill.
In 1911, the Orpheum Theatre opened on Fort Street. The management went out of its way to secure the finest talent available, and set up a season ticket plan. The shows were always sold out. The great Sarah Bernhardt performed at the Orpheum, and she was really something.
Most of the show people stayed at the Vendome Hotel on Fort Street across the street from the Orpheum. I don't think they made much money in those days; the young showgirls especially seemed to be hungry all the time. I often saw "stage door Johnnies" hanging around the theatre and the hotel, asking the girls out for dinner and a good time. And I don't think I ever saw a girl refuse their invitation.
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