Miss Eleanor Powell was chosen Bowling Queen of the Ottawa Valley in a contest held in Almonte, Sunday afternoon. Miss Powell won over eight other contestants from Renfrew, Almonte, Arnprior and Ottawa. She is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. E Powell of Highland Drive in Ottawa. She is a student of Laurentian High School and the contest was sponsored by the director of the Stirling BIA in Almonte– Leo Lindsay.
Judges were: Mr.and Mrs. Clifforrd March of Appleton and Mr. and Mrs. Judson of Carleton Place. Points were given on bowling ability and appearance.
Runners up ( Princesses) were Pat Insley and Gail Simon. Mrs. Helen Bradley of the P.J. Club in Ottawa was in charge of the Ottawa group. Those taking part in the contest were: Carol Baird, Gwen O’Connell, Jean West of Almonte, Marie Dupuis, Gail Simon and Dorothy Currie of Renfrew abd Wendy Arden, Pat Insley, and Eleanor Powell of Ottawa.
The Queen received roses and gifts from the director, Leo Lindsay and the little Pattie sisters of Ottawa. Following the results refreshments were served. Dancing followed with a few members of the Almonte set learning to do “the Twist”. Escorts for the presentation of the girls were: Don Morton, Kitk Mueller, Fred McLean, James Hand, Brian Newton and Gary Waddell.
On the evening of January 10 th, Errol R. Stanzel of Carleton Place met a tragic death when he was killed by the westbound C . P. R. Dayliner about 7.10 p.m . on the level crossing on the eastern side of Almonte on Andrew ‘s Bros, farm . The crew of the train said he was standing on the track in front of his stalled car and appeared to be waving. So far no one seems to know why the unfortunate man was where he was at that time. One guess is that he missed the turn at Perth Street and continued along Country Street and in some manner stalled on the track. It could easily be that he underestimated the speed of the Budd car. He was in his 70th year and retired a few years ago after conducting a successful retail shoe business in Carleton Place for many years. Dr. J. A . McEwen, County Corner was called to the scene of the accident. The funeral was held by the Fleming Bros. Funeral H om e, Carleton Place to St. James A nglican Church on S at.. Jan . 13 at 2 p.m. Interment was in St. James Cemetery.
Glamorous 16-year-old Miss Sandra Warner, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. C. W. Warner of Smiths Falls, a Smiths Falls and District Collegiate student, was chosen “Miss Eastern Ontario” at Perth’s seventh winter carnival held in the Perth Collegiate auditorium Saturday night Seven hundred spectators packed the auditorium and a large crowd was unable to get inside the hall. Despite a heavy downpour of rain and hazardous driving conditions, the surrounding towns and district were well represented.
This is the second occasion in which a Smiths Falls representative won the title. Miss Marilyn Allen was the 1958 winner. There were nine queens entered in the contest. They were auditioned in the Perth Collegiate on Saturday afternoon. Judges were: Renne D’Ornano, Jewell Graham, Pierre Belisle and Jim Terrell of the CBC, Ottawa. Crowns Winner Miss Warner was crowned by Miss Heather Black, Carleton Place winner of the title In 1960. The pretty young miss was presented with the Courier rose bow by N. K. H. Turner and s beautiful bouquet by Mrs. E. S. BurchelL A $200 bursary awarded by an Ottawa company was pre sented by John Spence of Ottawa.
Miss Heather Black of Carleton Place received a miniature trophy as the retiring Miss Eastern Ontario of 1960. Other contestants were: Beverly Walsh, Renfrew; Marilyn McCann, Westport; Jeanett Giroud, Amprior; Benice Campbell, Almonte; Janice McDowell, Carleton Place; Mary Ronson, South Mountain; Heather Crawford, Perth, and Sandra Tullis, Lanark. Each of the contestants received a cheque for $50 from John Dunn.
William Luxton, of Kingston, was master of ceremonies. Mayor E. S. Burchell welcomed the large crowd to Perth’s annual winter festival and particularly the many communities in Eastern Ontario who participated in the contest Trophies for winners of the local dog derby held in the afternoon, sponsored by the Jaycees, were presented by Mayor Burchell to Jim Malloy who won and to Joan Malloy who was the first girl to finish.
The talent contest was open to Eastern Ontario. The contest was divided into junior and senior sections. In the junior division, little Miss Normalyn McLellan, Perth, with her song and tap dancing was the winner. Margot Royce, Amprior, was second and Nancy Houston, Carleton Place, vocalist, was third. In the senior division, Sandra Doyle and Michael Mailey, Carleton Place, in a tap dance and piano solo, were winners. Don White and Don Eastman, Innisville, in their guitar number were second, and James P. Rae of Perth, vocal soloist and guitar accompaniment was third. Each of the winners received cash prizes. A tvro-day mixed curling bonspiel in the Perth curling rink was completed on Saturday night to bring to a climax a round of carnival events.
It is December 15th, almost a week before Christmas, and you would never know it. I wrote a piece a few years ago called “Searching For Christmas” and it seems, as the years go by, it disappears more and more. The Martha Stewart Christmas CD plays for the umpteenth time, and after 17 Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel I just can’t watch another. Or can I?
I had something happen to me a few years ago that was life altering. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about it, and it has literally changed my perspective on life. It was almost like learning there was no Santa Claus when I was a child. That innocence that reinforced the goodness of mankind suddenly vanished. So, I sit here and ask myself, how many Christmases do I have left? What if I had not lived, and missed Christmas that year? Well, I did live, and Christmas is almost around the corner.
So I try to snap out of this funk and remember. I remember the smell of Christmas trees and their sharp pine pungent scent, and the smell of home baking in the air. To be honest, the last years of my childhood Christmases were not spent smelling a fresh evergreen tree. It was gazing at the latest model of Sears “best in the line ” decorator trees in my Grandmother’s living room. I remember the delicate fragile glass ornaments that belonged to years gone by and the blue lights on the tree.
I can still hear Miss Watson playing the church organ next to the Chrismtas tree at Trinity Anglican Church, which also shone with blue lights. I felt like it was something that was decided upon one Altar Guild Day in one fell swoop of a pact. Can I still hear these women talking with their glasses perched on their noses and fluffing their short tight perms? Did these church ladies decide that blue lights, and only blue lights, should be on a Christmas tree? I am positive that’s what happened and then they all went home and changed their lights to blue in a no nonsense way.
Memories then flood my mind of two weeks after Christmas in 1995 when my sons and I stood on top of a water- soaked carpet looking sadly at a completely black Christmas tree. Staring at the remainder of a horrible fire that burned everything the day before, my oldest son wondered if his purchase of one small TY Beanie Baby monkey started the fire that turned our lives upside down for over a year. He is very much like his mother. We dwell on things and don’t give them up. We are good at that.
But Christmas went on the next year and no one was a Negative Nancy. We still watched Charlie Brown’s Christmas and baked cookies and hung up stockings and I still left small presents on the door steps of the elderly. So what to do? How do I get out of this Downer Dan mood? I decided to make Butter Tarts–now that would make me feel festive.
Twenty minutes later after listening to Loreena McKennitt singing “Good King Wenceslas” for the umpteenth time, I take the tarts from the oven. They smell wonderful and I know they will be enjoyed. I turn the Martha Stewart Christmas CD off and file it away, not to be played for… let’s say…at least a day. Charlie Brown’s Christmas by Vince Guaraldi fills the air and I dance. I realize the holidays are what you make out of it and not to expect anyone to drop the Holiday spirit outside your bathroom door– because it just isn’t going to happen. Christmas just isn’t a season–it’s a feeling sometimes being torn for the familiar and just a chance to feel old feelings twice. If kisses were snowflakes I would send each and everyone of you a blizzard.
No one in this world wanted to take over tap dancer Ann Miller’s job more than I did. After 70 long years of random attempts, all that remains is a pair of silver tap shoes tucked away in a cupboard long forgotten. I used to wear them on a day to day basis for many years as I always believed one should be on call if someone had the odd tap dancing job. In life I have always winged it: life, eyeliner, just everything.
As a child my mother told my father that I had natural rhythm and would probably belong to a professional dance troupe. Actually, what she really wanted me to be was one of the dancers on American Bandstand, but I had other goals in mind. When I was eight I wanted to fluff out my tutu and be the Sugar Plum Fairy so badly that I accidentally bumped the reigning fairy off the stage during practice. Seeing the stage was a foot off the ground, she was luckily not hurt, and I was to remain a Waltzing Flower forever.
At 17 I had my first “break”. I became one of the regular “crowd” dancers on a Montreal based TV show called “Like Young”. Every Saturday afternoon I lined up outside CFCF-TV sporting my grandmother’s orthopedic brown lace up shoes, ready to dance. Those borrowed shoes were just super for dancing and they looked fabulous with my floor dusting Le Chateau gabardine pants. I was nothing but double-trouble on the dance floor.
After the show was over we would all head downtown and refresh our spirits at the Honey Dew restaurant on Saint Catherine Street. One giant glass of Honey Dew along with a hot dog and then it was off to Place Du Soul. It was the “all ages” place to be, that was right across from the Greyhound Bus Station in case you had to leave town quickly. Each week I resumed my Sugar Plum Fairy dreams of long ago– only this time it was for the coveted title of go-go cage dancer. The elevated cages were about twenty stairs up a shaky ladder and it became a weekly goal to try and fight the others to be queen of the dancing soul-castle.
One weekend James Brown was the headlining act and even though I had issues with vertigo I decided I was finally going to be dancing in that cage that evening. As I stood in line waiting my turn I told several people that the lead singer Bruce from “Les Sultans” was soon to be coming in the front door.
“Les Sultans” were the French Canadian version of the Beatles in those days, and I tell you that line stopped being a line in about two seconds flat. Smiling a very large sinister smile I climbed those twenty stairs wearing a short print mini dress, white boots and a huge white bow on top of my head. I never looked down once and realized quickly there was no lady-like way to climb that ladder without flashing my underpants. Remember, there is always a wee bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good.
James started to sing, “I Feel Good,” and it couldn’t have been a better song. I stayed up in the cage as long as I could and danced my boots off. Others got tired of me hogging the limelight and tried to climb up and get rid of me. I threw my boots down one at a time. Last song, bootless, and eyeliner running down my face James threw me a kiss in the air and sang “I Got You”. I would never live my mother’s dream of being one of Dick Clark’s dancers, but finally, I was the Sugar Plum Fairy of Soul and covered in a “Cold Sweat”! Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we’re here, we should dance. When you are sixty and still dancing, you become something of a curiosity. If you hit seventy and you can still get a foot off the ground, you’re phenomenal. Now, with a cane, dancing can be difficult, but I still dance like nobody’s watching. Because, in reality, they aren’t watching you. That’s because they are all too busy checking their phones. Why be moody, when you can shake your booty!
The first TV program I remember watching as a child was the Mantovani Show, and not only was it boring, but it was in black and white. Because we lived 14 miles from the Vermont border in Quebec we were lucky to be able to receive some American television, and not just the staple Canadian three.
Cartoon Corner and Howdy Doody were favourites of mine back in the day on CBC. I also remembered having to unplug the TV when a thunderstorm occurred as my Mother said it was “going to blow the house up if one of those bolts wrapped around the venetian blinds”. Of course, I still think of that when it’s storming outside sitting in my lazy boy chair that’s pointed at the television along with every other piece in the room, and still with decorative venetian blinds.
Every night at 5 in 1961 I would watch the CBC TV show Razzle Dazzle hosted by Suzanne Somer’s husband, Alan Hamel. I had entered a writing contest and was eagerly waiting to hear if I won a pen with my “meatless meat pie” essay. A few weeks later I found out that I had indeed won a Razzle Dazzle pen for my story along with a photo of Howard the Turtle.
One day in the 60’s my father went to Keith Lachasseur’s Appliance store on the Main Street in Cowansville and came home with a colour TV. I didn’t really care one way or the other as I was actually used to the rainbow hues of “the plastic sheet” on the front of the television. It ‘simulated’ full colour along with rabbit ears covered in tinfoil to stimulate even better viewing. Of course it was sold as a cheap alternative to buying an expensive colour TV and its promise had sucked my father in. I think he immediately knew he had the wool pulled over his eyes, but never knowingly admitting a mistake, he insisted that it was ‘just as good’ as the real thing.
In our family he was the only person allowed to touch the new TV and he was always up on the roof adjusting the antenna to get the best
picture. After seeing everything in black and white while we simultaneously hunted dinosaurs in those days my world had now progressed to technicolor with a new neighbour coming in every night to see ‘the TV.’ Some of the highlights were: ‘Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Colour’ when Tinkerbell would splash colour on the screen and of course the burning map on the TV show Bonanza was priceless.
One night my father went out to a Lodge meeting and my friend Sheila came over to watch The Man from U.N.C.L.E. David McCallum, who played “Ilelya Kuryakin” on the show, had been dubbed the “British James Dean” and was the only reason I watched that show. The fact that I had always seen him cast as a delinquent was a bonus for me since there is nothing like a bad boy. Sheila and I sat down and got ready to watch. The NBC Peacock came on and it remained in black and white. Where was the colour?.
Was my father really not at the Lodge meeting and adjusting the roof antenna so I could not enjoy the show? The Man from U.N.C.L.E began and I started fidgeting around with the buttons. Instead of black and white the show suddenly turned red and then blue and I wondered if the rainbow plastic sheet had found its way inside the TV. Was I doomed? After fidgeting some more the picture started skipping and I had to play around with the “horizontal hold” button. I think all of you remember that particular button with joy and happiness.
Illya still stared at me in glorious black and white, and I stopped playing with the buttons. Fifteen minutes before the show ended my father came in and tweaked his magic and it turned from black and white to colour.
Once you had colour TV you never went back to black and white- you just went to “upgrade”. Some of my friends in the late 60’s used LSD instead, and their whole lives became Technicolor — without television. My family just continued to ‘upgrade’ and in lieu of Don Messer’s Jubilee we watched Tommy Hunter on Friday nights. Who knew a
Hoedown, Tommy Hunter and Brenda Lee could all exist in colour together?
McLuhan once said,“The medium is in the message”– or was that ‘the massage’. But now we are confronted with all sorts of media so pardon me while I check my Facebook Twitter and Instagram and watch a season of something on Netflix real quick. Just remember if someone had not invented the TV we’d still be eating frozen radio dinners.
Women’s age-old interest in clothes was demonstrated again when a total of 400 which included a sprinkling of males, attended the Fashion Show in the town hall, sponsored by the Almonte Ladies Curling Club. Mrs. R. A. Jamieson was convener of the Show and practically all the members assisted in some capacity to make the event an outstanding success. The stage which in the raw, is a most depressing sight, was transformed into a rose garden with an arbor forming the entrance to the ramp down which the models walked.
There were rose covered trellises, a picket fence, etc., all arranged to form an attractive setting for the attractive models. Mrs. Parrett, proprietor of the Lanark Shop, opened the show and acted as commentator throughout.
The merchandise was loaned by Pimlott’s Ladies’ Wear, Milady Dress Shop, Johnson and McCreary, Smolkin’s Men’s Wear, The Mariette Shoppe, The Lanark Shop, The Misses Hogan, J. H. Proctor, Phil. Needham and the Canada Fur Manufacturing Company of Toronto, of which Mrs. K, Burns is the local agent. Mrs. Parrett introduced the models all of whom are local.
They were Mrs. Joyce Hill, Mrs. Muriel Hill, Miss Mary Hourigan, Mrs. Clare Kitts, Mrs. Freda Levitan and Mrs. Irene Duncan. Modelling men’s clothes were Gordon Clifford and Gerry Green. Three children who also acted as models, stole the show for a time. They were Ruth Leishman, Barbara Ann Duncan and Donald Duncan. Mrs. Clare Kitts, wearing a black gabardine suit and two piece mink neckpiece from Milady Dress Shop, was the first model.
With this she wore a pink blouse and milan straw hat and black accessories. The next was Miss Mary Hourigan wearing a turquoise crepe dress from the Mariette Shoppe. Mrs. Freda Levitan next featured a blue and white cotton from Pimlott’s Ladies’ Wear. Mrs. Muriel Hill modelled a navy taffeta from Pimlott’s Ladies’ Wear with a hat of navy blue trimmed with taffeta and white flowers.
Mrs. Joyce Hill was introduced next, wearing grey gabardine slacks and T-shirt from the Lanark Shop. The sixth model was Mrs. Irene Duncan, wearing a three-piece suit in rayon herringbone from Pimlott’s, with green kid shoes with platform soles from Proctor’s Shoe Store. There were 40 costumes shown in all with the models appearing more or less in rotation. One especially attractive ensemble was shown by Mrs. Joyce Hill–It was a grey kid jacket worn over a green gabardine suit The fur jacket was lined with matching green gabardine was from Milady DressShop and was supplied by the Canada Fur Manufacturing Company (J. T. Conway and Son.) Another fur coat by the same company that excited considerable pleased comment was a full length muskrat coat made with a border. This was worn by Mrs. Muriel Hill with a smart cocoa brown gabardine one-piece dress. Mrs. Irene Duncan also displayed a handsome g controlled by darts.
The show closed with Mis. Joyce Hill and Mrs. Clare Kitts appearing as bridesmaid and bride respectively. Joyce wore a yellow bengaline taffeta with two net overskirts, gold sandals from Proctors and flowers from Misses Hogan. Mrs. Kitts’ wedding gown was. of all over chantilly lace over taffeta and she wore a floor length veil of French net with hand embroidery. Both the bridesmaid’s dress and the bride’s dress were from Milady Dress Shop.
Ramblings of a Rebel with a Cause! — Linda Knight Seccaspina
In 1967 I was very excited to go to the London School of Fashion Design in London, England. Sadly my mentor, my grandfather, died that August so all was shot to hell as they say. My Dad was very busy with his business, being a town councilman and a man of the community. I was barely 16 and one thing that had gotten his attention was that I was very different and he didn’t care for it. I dressed in the latest fashion styles that I made and I stuck out like a big sore thumb. In a small town where your father is a prominent fixture word travels around like a brush fire that someone is out of the box somewhere.
I was labeled “the daughter that Arthur Knight had so much trouble with”. Yes, I was probably and admitedly a rebel teeenager, there is no argument to that. But, fashion was my first love, and I knew I would never work in a bank or become a home economics teacher.
So after heated arguments with my father I left home and headed to Montreal. I attended fashion design school where I instantly became bored. Instead of the great 60’s fashion and styles that I was expecting, my teacher made me make patterns of 1950’s styles. After classes I would go into store after store, just absorbing the culture and the “joie de vivre” of Montreal fashion.
Graduation couldn’t come fast enough for me. After completing my course, I had to find a job. Twiggy, Mary Quant and all the Carnaby Street styles were everywhere and guess who was wearing them? My Dad was getting remarried and gave me 75 dollars to buy something for his wedding. Being the drama queen I purchased a black velvet Twiggy mini dress and a black floor length Dr. Zhivago style coat. It was a real floor duster with black faux fur trim. Omar Shariff would have been proud– or maybe not!
When I went for job interviews I had to wear that outfit as my personal fashion budget was bankrupt. Most clothing manufactures were not yet into the Carnaby look in 1967 and I was told time after time:
“Kid, get yourself another coat– or you will never get a job!”
Defiant, of course I had to be me and soon got a job at Le Chateau on St. Catherine Street hemming pants. It was the very first Le Chateau store and when I left 6 months later they were opening their second store on St. Hubert.
With a year long fashion design course under my belt I finally found a job at THE FINE TOGS CLOTHING CO. It was a children’s manufacturer run by Blossom and Hy Hyman. Actually Blossom ran the company and Hy smiled a lot and played golf. They thought I was a spunky kid and if I had stayed there would have probably been retiring from the company about five years ago. I was raised by my British Grandmother, but there is definitely Jewish blood flowing through my veins and now now I was working for a Jewish firm and I was getting an education, in more ways than one.
If my grandmother Mary was my foundation for my hard working ethics then Saul Cohen was the drywall. He expected me to arrive at 7:30 am every morning and the man worked me to the bone. I worked in the cutting department, did sewing, swept floors, did book work and worked in the show room.There was not one stone that he did not make me turn over. He was relentless and when he found out about my long lost heritage he made sure I knew about it. When I complained about maybe leaving at 6 pm he would turn around and say to me:
“Do you know how our people suffered?”
One day he decided that I was ready to represent the company selling their clothing line at Place Bonaventure clothing mart. He told me I had to wear something conservative. So I did what every other girl my age did. I went to SEARS and bought THE SUIT. It was a navy blue matching box jacket, and knee length pleated skirt. I had red shoes and red earrings to match– and I wore it exactly 4 times.
I applaud Saul for everything he taught me and how someone actually got me to wear something that wasn’t black. But, word got around the clothing mart about me and I was soon hired by a competitive children’s wear company which was just one more step on the way to becoming a designer. To this day I never lost control of my fashion life and bought sweatpants. Give a girl the right shoes and the right outfit and she can conquer the world.
A discordant note has been heard amidst the more usual tones associated with the Sweet Adelines movement. A Negro housewife has been barred by the American headquarters of the International Sweet Adelines in Ottawa. The statement follows are in the United States Association and recent refusal of a Carleton Place Negro woman to the Ottawa chapter of the Sweet Adelines, the women’s division of the barbershop singing organization. The organization has a bylaw that all members must be white. Jane Burns, a High School teacher from Carleton Place resigned her post as president she said she was a Canadian citizen and did not have to uphold the rules of the American Sweet Adelaine’s group. March 1963
Lana Clowes, was mentioned in several newspaper articles as being from Carleton Place also. I have no idea if she was, or it was a newspaper mixup, but Jane Burns was definitely from Carleton Place.
A Negro housewife has been barred by the U.S.-based headquarters of the International Sweet Adelines, Inc.. from singing with its Ottawa branch, local officials of the female barbershop singers said here. A representative from the Tulsa, Okla., headquarters was reported to have informed the Ottawa group last weekend that Mrs. Lana Clowes, a Negro tenor, can no longer sing with the group. Jane Burns, president of the Ottawa Sweet Adelines branch, told reporters Wednesday night the group would be happy to retain Mrs. Clowes but the club spent the night in Sherbrooke. must abide by the rules.
Miss Burns, a Carleton Place, Ont., high school teacher, said the Sweet Adeline’s constitution states that members must be “white girls of good moral character.”
“I know this colour bar goes against the Canadian Bill of Rights and that the international group does believe in segregation,” she said. “But I don’t see the issue on Christian principles. I see it on the constitution.” Miss Burns said the club would not withdraw from the 13,000 -member international organization, but would “just have to wait until the U.S. residents change their civil rights laws.” She said, however, the group would not be against singing for a Negro audience.
Meanwhile, Rev. Gerald Fee said the Sweet Adelines had informed him they had cancelled a scheduled appearance at a concert Friday at Eastbrook United Church. Following a closed branch meeting Wednesday night, other Sweet Adelines members were reluctant to comment further. Reporters were told “too much has been said already” and “write to Tulsa for a statement.”
Earlier, two executive members, Mrs. Beverley Perkins and Mrs. Barbara Cowan, founder of the local group, said they would quit the club. “I personally cannot go along with this.” said Mrs. Perkins. “There is no reason why we should be forced to abide by ; that regulation up here.” She said Marion Bucannan, ethics officer of the international organization, visited Ottawa last weekend to inform members that Mrs. Clowes must leave the club. “She laid it on the line,” said Mrs. Perkins.
So now this is on the Sweet Adeline’s cover page and it looks like the women who resigned formed the Captial Chordettes
Just wondering if you have ever run across pics or stories of the Carleton Place boys Roadmasters Road Club? It was in the late 60s. I have my own stories but it would be great to hear from others. Jim Lay(rip) (blue Chevy Impalla), Bill Thom (rip), Billy Crampton, Lloyd Chamney were just a few of the lads. We girlfriends used to sit outside of the location (Old Coleman’s Dairy, converted into a garage) waiting for the guys to take us for a drag race down the Townline!
The lads were pretty fond of their cars. Lots of spit and shine, and lots of shinny hubcaps. I recall how all of us young dating couples would congregate in a lineup of lads, ladies(?) to steam up the car windows (innocent necking days back then). There were always trips to Port Elmsley Drive In theatre to watch a great movie under the stars. There were trips to Rideau Ferry to dance the night away, and of course we all stopped either at A&W drive thru or spent Friday nights at Carleton Place Curb Service, back in the day. In those days the food servers roller skated to your car with those great burgers and fries! Let’s Have Some Curb Service!
As I sit here though I am now remembering Ronnie Latham was part of the Roadmasters (I need help remembering them all). The guys had the greatest jackets made up and I wish I had photos.
Much appreciated! Thank you Linda
No thank you Beth Sweeney!!!!
SO who has photos??? It would be fun to hear stories and see photos.
Linda Gallipeau Johnson emailed me last night with this comment:
Linda, in a conversation about racing yesterday i was telling my grandson about the go-kart race track on the far end of High Street – the ladies that raced were called “Powder Puffs” as i remember. Also remember our neighbor Marion Menzies – Grade 3 teacher at Central used to race as well as her husband. Wonder if there were ever any pictures taken?
In the late 80s Dwight Neron hoped to revive “Curb Service” on Townline that once flourished as the former popular Elmdale Lunch. Elmdale Lunch at one point in time was THE hang out for Carleton Place’s local teenagers. Neron’s dream was to have his new business remind everyone of the nostalgic TV sitcom Happy Days and even set up a real curb service where people could get served in their cars. He even wanted the outdoor waitresses to wear roller skates!
Ted HurdisI remember both well. Funny side note we were talking about curb service last night at curling. My buddies and I would meet there almost every Sat. As we were convinced a milkshake, cheeseburger and fries cured the cobwebs out from our Friday night partying. Hahaha it seemed to work.
Beth SweeneySo miss Curb Service. It was a great place to meet up with friends. Good food, good times!
Margaret MartinCurb Service had the best hamburgers & great service, it was missed when it closed.
Ray PaquetteOnly a hang out, the Elmdale Lunch, for those fortunate few that owned or had access to a car! The rest of us hung around the Olympia, the Pool Room or Bellamy’s…
Dale CostelloWorked at Curb Service in the mid 50’s as a car hop. One of my school buds pArents owned the restaurant. They just don’t make them like Curb Service anymore. Sad.
A couple of pillows and a blanket, were a nice touch, and made movie-viewing a comfy, cozy event. We’d also bring a small flashlight, because nothing was worse for us girls than stumbling around on the gravel path, trying to find our way to the washroom, on a dark, moonless night; especially right after watching a scary scene in a horror movie. That just didn’t work for us. Sometimes we’d bring a roll of t.p. from home, in case they ran out, which happened once in a while during the all-night movie marathons— read more Port Elmsley – Drive-In Dreamin’ Arlene Stafford
Oh, those hot summer nights at the Rideau Ferry Inn! The dancing, the laughter, stolen kisses, sneaking drinks in the parking lot, and the best live rock and roll around!
Its official name back then, was the Poonamalie Pavilion, but nobody called it that. To my friends and me, it was simply the Rideau Ferry Inn; and you could find us there most weekend nights in the summer, socializing, laughing, and dancing the night away.