By Weir Muir
A glimpse of a Nanaimo Saturday night in the mid thirties
In the early thirties, families in Nanaimo went downtown on Saturday nights. This was an event for everyone!
Stores kept open till 9:00 or later. Most homes had a male member who emerged black-faced from the pits during the week, but on Saturday night, dressed in his best he accompanied wife and kids downtown. Now he may not always have been enthusiastic about this, but the little woman was, and harmony in the family is what kept the lunch buckets filled with tender morsels to keep body and soul alive after her man’s descent down the mine-shaft each day at the Western Fuel Company’s Number One mine.
It all seemed to be planned for a ‘leave home’ time of 7:00P.M. that placed us on Commercial Street by 7:30. Southenders approached the downtown via Victoria Crescent with the firehall a first point of interest. Kids of course needed to see the fire trucks through the windows, maybe even Chief Parkin in his fancy uniform.
The model steamship in its resplendent glass case came in for much ‘ooing and awing’. Then it was on for the business at hand. You see the wives were straining at the bit to reach the drygoods stores in the hope of picking up a bargain in the bolt-end remnants department. W.H. Anderson’s was a first stop, where Mrs. Anderson and Miss McCuish knew exactly what would interest each lady. A later stop at Whittingham’s DryGoods enabled a comparison and perhaps a decision to be made. The men meanwhile cooled their heels outside the stores. They had no interest in bolt-ends, body-form corsets or pink bloomers. At least that’s what they said.
The sports/hardware stores were the mens’ domain and places like Ray Colclough’s(later to become Ernie Johnstone’s) were a sure bet. Wilf Nash’s Sportsman’s Paradise was another, especially if Jiggs Gannon was working, for everyone knew he knew all there was to know about fishing, hunting and boats.
At about this time the Salvation Army Band surged forth from the Citadel , marching up Commercial Street with a vigorous rendition of Onward Christian Soldiers, stopping at various corners where seemingly the most sinners congregated, awaiting redemption. I can remember my school friend Doug Cooper (son of the Salvation Army’s Major Cooper) playing stirring gospel songs on his trumpet, and many others such as Cyril Dennison who could blaze out a wonderfully appealing, “What A Friend We Have In Jesus’. Too bad, the song Amazing Grace hadn’t been written by then, it would have sounded magnificent pealing out from the corner. Sad it is to recall the Major’s son Doug perished in the skies over Europe a few years later in WW2.
Often we would just pause and listen to the corner recital, though I seem to remember that when the band struck up “Will Your Anchor Hold?” many of us drifted away up the street. Let’s hope that all our ‘anchors’ held in the storms of life that were to follow. My hat’s off to the Army’s men and women who had the courage to enter the pubs in town (a dozen or so)to seek donations for their collection box.
The populace enjoyed the opportunity to meet and ‘chew the fat’-with friends and acquaintances, for after all, life wasn’t exactly a bowl of cherries in those days prior to the war.
Families entered Fletcher’s Music Store to gawk at the new pianos. Ernie Good’s Furniture was always a must to view the chesterfields, kitchen sets, and mahogany beds we never had. Ernie was always ebullient, sometimes well fortified in his good humour. He had a great sales approach that everyone enjoyed-and such a hearty laugh. Everyone enjoyed his banter, especially my mother who was always willing to forgive any of his fortified humour. Woolworth’s fifteen cent store was every kid’s delight, and Lily Campbell and others waited to receive any of our loose change, if we had any to squander. Other wise fond looks at toy cars were all we could muster up.
Charlie Dakin’s Old Country clothing and drygoods was an interesting stop, especially for we kids who just had to see Mr. Dakin’s long black waxed moustache.
It stuck out like a tabby cat’s whiskers. Wow! I can see it now. No Saturday night was complete without a stop at Mackenzie’s candy store and once in a while that special treat of going into the ice cream parlour section with its wire chairs for an ice cream sundae, boy that was really living!
After that it was all downhill, or should I say up-hill, for us facing the Victoria Road hill on our way home. A last treat was the army band marching home to the rhythmic thump of the big drum. They had spread the words of salvation and now were too pooped to play, I reckoned.
We too were somewhat pooped and all that remained was to walk home, check under the mat at the font door to find the house key safe and sound. Didn’t take long to put on the old P.J.’s and jump into bed.
Another great Saturday night in Nanaimo – REMEMBER?