The West End

Posted on September 30, 2015 under Storytelling with 6 comments

John MacGillivray at The West End Market

Photo courtesy of the Antigonish Heritage Mueseum

 

 

It is an unusually foggy day by Antigonish standards. The downtown is shrouded in a low hanging mist. We’re not talking about the kind of fog that envelops the community of St. Shott’s, Newfoundland for most days of the year. They once had the dubious distinction of being named the foggiest town in the world, according to Guinness. I was there once and almost got lost crossing the street.

As I pass the Legion I stumble upon Farrell’s Texaco. Sure enough, John Henry is out manning the pumps; a civilized practice that has been given away to expediency in modern times. He’s chatting with a few guys and they are almost certainly discussing the upcoming hockey season. My guess is that they’re talking about #9, The Golden Jet, and wondering if he’ll have another 50 goal season using that newfangled curved stick.

Even though it is set back from the road, I can hear the strong, clear voices of the Marian Boy choir emanating from the Marian Boy Choir Institute. Rev. Terry Lynch is undoubtedly putting the boys through their paces, demanding excellence.

I’m heading west on Main when Rudy Villeneuve pokes his head out the door to say hello. Rudy has been mending soles at this location for many years. I pop in to say hi to Dot MacPherson, proprietor of Dot’s Convenience. Many of the cavities that we now carry around in our teeth were earned back in the day when everyone got their penny candy at Dot’s before crossing the street for the Saturday matinee at The Capitol Theatre. The fog is thicker and as I turn to leave, Johnny Lord emerges from the mist and offers me a platter of fish and chips. Some say that his was the best you could buy on this side of the Atlantic. Lord only knows.

I am starting to wonder if I’ve accidentally bumped my head, for I haven’t moved one step and I’m in the middle of a throng at D.P. Chisholm Insurance. I am told by unimpeachable sources that politics is occasionally discussed under this roof.

Slightly dazed, I continue down the sidewalk to find one of the few houses on this stretch of Main Street. The large and immensely talented Brassett family calls this home. Many of them are stellar athletes while others can sing like the angels. They can survey the comings and goings on Main Street from their front veranda. The patriarch, George, and his sidekick, Victor Boucher, run the Sears store just up the way beside MacDonald Brothers.

John MacGillivray is putting out some fresh meat and fish at the West End Market. Not all fish stories are true but apparently this one is. A local fellow who supplied the West End with fresh salmon arrived in town on a Saturday morning. He learned to his dismay that one of John’s coolers had broken down and there was no room for his catch. This was particularly distressing as the fisherman had a loan payment due at the Credit Union that very day. He made his way down to the corner of Main and College and, with some degree of trepidation, went in to see the C.U. manager. Because it was Saturday, the Credit Union would be closing at noon. After hearing the story, the manager told the fisherman to come back at 11:50 a.m. After a few carefully placed calls to some people in the business community, all of the salmon was claimed and paid for on the spot. That’s how things were done back then. The loan payment was made, to the immense relief of the fisherman.

I cross Acadia Street and peek into Sullivan’s Barber shop. Henry Sullivan and Tom Lukeman are wielding scissors and extend a wave. Their barber chairs are classic and durable, offering comfort to customers to this very day.

Being in the market for new winter footwear, I enter the friendly confines of Chisholm’s Shoe Store and strike up a conversation with Leo “Boots”. We talk a bit of sports and politics and I poke my head in the back room to say a quick hello to Johnny Boyd, who can repair every manner of heel.

I am too young to enter the next store. You’ve got to be 19 to walk into the Liquor Store. Long before self-serve became the norm, customers stood at a counter and placed their orders. It must have been quite a sight near closing time on Christmas Eve! The liquor store eventually relocated and the premises became a furniture store, first owned by Richard Kadray and then by Mike MacInnis.

The smell of freshly baked bread hits my nostrils as I pass J.A. Adams Bakery. Jimmy once ran a convenience store at this location but now he churns out another kind of dough every day.

I’ve reached the corner of Main and Hawthorne and there sits a venerable institution. No, it’s not St. F. X. but rather, The Corner Store. But everybody calls it Foch’s. Who hasn’t gone into there to grab some candy or a bottle of milk? Or sat at the lunch counter for a glass of water on the way home from school? On any given day, you’ll find Foch Fraser behind the counter or some of his trusty staff, including Freda Pushie and Mamie “Hedges”.

My ultimate destination is Pete Poirier’s Bottle Exchange. I am toting a sack of empty Pepsi, Coke and Nesbitt Orange beverage containers, along with some beer bottles. Pete is shrewd. The money barely creases my palms before I am passing it back to buy some penny candy. Honeymoons are only 2 cents so I can load up when I have a quarter burning a hole in my pocket.

Suddenly, the fog lifts and I’m stopping in to visit Meghan and Zack at the Tall and Small Café, to see how their young family is doing. The place is packed … another institution in the making.

You never know what you’ll experience when travelling the Main … especially on a foggy day!