boyhood sketch 12. MY NOSE JOB

later remodelled structure

Grades four through six were at Robertson Public School on Church Street, just a five-minute walk from our home, so a left turn on to Clark Street to Church Street ,to the right and just past the First United Church. Or, we could leave home and jog to the right to Daniel Street, hang a short left and enter the large school playground of dust and dirt. 

original design with tower & bell

In grade four, during recess I did a belly slide down an icy schoolyard hill in winter and took out the legs of a boy at the bottom who promptly sat on my head flattening my nose into the ice. I was taken to the doctor whose remedy was to stick his baby finger in each side of my nose straightening the soft cartilage and back to school I went. Over several days I proudly wore a nose with several shades of purple. I like purple.

We played ball hockey on the school property after hours. An asphalt area was perfect near the main building. Often a couple of us would take turns, one in net and one shooting the tennis ball. We were good, fast, accurate, in goal or out of goal, just like our favourite St. Catharines Teepees (later called Black Hawks), like Elmer (Moose) Vasco, Bobby Hull, Stan Mikita, Pierre Pilote, Phil Esposito, Roger Crozier and scores more. Other times several of us would play teams, three on three. Carefree, joyful, exuberant days of boyhood.   

boyhood sketch 6. I OWNED THE CITY

Diana Sweets Restaurant 

old downtown St. Paul Street

At age nine and ten I owned the streets of St. Catharines, Ontario. I knew them. I rode them on my one speed bicycle. Alleys, lanes, quiet treed streets, and heavy traffic lanes presented no challenge. I would peddle uptown to St. Paul Street. It was really downtown St. Catharines but I called it uptown for no acceptable reason. It seemed uptown because I peddled uphill to Church Street from our home on Clark Street. Coy Bros. Hardware was one of my favourite places. Entering the main doors from James Street we headed to the rear of the store where there was a counter with glass top and front face. Inside the case were tiny metal farm animals carefully painted. Each purchase was a mere ten cents when I was ten years old. Nearby Diana Sweets was the best place to eat. Our family seldom ate out but unknown to anyone, I could slip into the restaurant and for twenty-five cents (two-bits we called it) I had a huge high slice of Boston Cream Pie. There I would be, a small boy in a large dining booth, alone with a pie slice as large as my face.

boyhood sketch 4. RATS AND MORE RATS

The buildings that enclosed the rear and one side of our family yard were utility barns and warehouses belonging to the city's transit system. Many other buildings were located over this vast corner property. Buses and street cars came in and out of the yard for maintenance. There were train tracks with train engines and cars parked for periods of time. The constant daily rumbling activity in this property chased its residents away to find lodging elsewhere. They found refuge at our home. Rats, hundreds of them. When we first moved to the house, we saw bullet holes inside on all the walls. Previous residents had shot at the rodents crawling unseen behind the wainscoting. The foundation of the house rested on firm soil. That’s correct, not concrete but soil. This was perfect for rats to tunnel into, nest and reproduce, in safety and in the dark. A plumbing problem in the bathroom caused my father to open a trapdoor and go into a crawl space with its mud floor. He let me follow him but said be careful or your foot will go into a rat hole. I did not stay long, freaked out when seeing the entire dirt surface under our house, full of rat-sized craters. When my brother Neale was born, I was eleven years old. I remember Dad telling me one morning that he had jumped up at night to protect Neale when seeing a rat crawling along the baby's crib railing. We moved from that house less than a year later. (The bus yards were to the left of the green house, 10 Clark Street. Today that rugged yard is converted into a shopping plaza.)

boyhood sketch 3. POLISH HOME OWNER

I am recalling the years from 1949-1956 when I was ages 7-13 in St. Catharines. Ontario.

Our home was owned by a Polish immigrant whom we saw infrequently. He spoke with an accent so prominent that I could understand little that he said. A few steps from the Clark Street sidewalk a front door opened to a hallway that we never used to enter our part of the home. A staircase led to upstairs to Mary Pankratz's apartment which she rented from us. The sidewalk outside led to a side door that was our own primary entrance. It opened to a family sitting and dining area. On the left a door opened to my small bedroom. A hard left took us through a large arched entry into a formal living room we seldom used.  On the front facing wall were two doors, one leading to the unused hall and the other to mom's and dad's large bedroom. On the right side of the living room two more small rooms, Murray's bedroom and a family bathroom. At the rear of the house, passing through the sitting/dining room was the kitchen that ran the width of the house. A back door led to a large yard that was entirely enclosed by a fence on the right side and by walls of buildings to the left and to the rear. There were two very tall trees on the wall side of the yard, trees that rose fifty feet in the air. Trees that were mine to climb. I could sit in the crotch of a tree with a good book for hours.   (This image shows the Green property 65 years after I lived there. Then it had a grass lawn where the driveway is with shrubs beside the other home.)

boyhood sketch 2. RUSSIAN RENTERS

My home was at 10 Clark Street, a two-story rental. The green house was our house. It seemed so much larger when I was a child. Mom and Dad and Murray, five years my junior, and I lived on the main floor. We rented the top floor to three people, Mary Pankratz and her sister Elizabeth and Mary's daughter Betty who was four years older than me. They were religious people. In fact they attended the same church that we did, perhaps because mom and dad recommended it to them. They had not been in Canada very long when they came to live at our house. Their stories of persecution in Russia captivated me, terrified me. Mary's right elbow was misshapen. A large elbow bone protruded noticeably. She let me feel the large bone that was covered with skin. She said that a soldier on horseback had charged at her, slamming her into a wall. She was badly injured. Her husband had been killed by the Soviets. These friends were quiet and pleasant. I liked all three of them a lot. I remember that we shared an occasional meal together. Particularly on special days and seasons, Mom made enough food for everyone in our building to enjoy. 

boyhood sketch 1. FIRST TV ON THE BLOCK

I remember the boy that I was, and the life I lived. In a series of daily sketches I now recall the years from 1949-1956 when I was ages 7-13 in St. Catharines. Ontario. The stories are all true. 

I wouldn't trade my childhood for one with all the electronics today. I had a bike. I had imagination. I had a local library. I had really tall trees in my yard. I had friends on my street. We lived in simple homes on Clark Street. We were happy. We didn’t have a television but Eddie McArthy did. He lived three houses up the street on the other side. Each evening before supper, neighbourhood kids were allowed inside to watch Sagebrush Trail, Howdy Doody and Hopalong Cassidy. After about an hour when Mrs. McArthy called Eddie to the table, we knew it was time to go home. Brothers Ronnie & Jerry Barr, Joey Daniels, my brother Murray, and I never overstayed. On a couple of occasions Mrs. McArthy asked us whether we would like to stay for supper. Murray and I declined. We were certain that what our mom would prepare was far better than what we saw on Eddie's supper table.