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PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, May 28, 1985 -- 17 Looking back at Port Perry 'S fun-filled early years Each day is a small lifetime In April a year ago the Port Perry Star published Andy Lawrence's "We Were Called Druggists Then ... "' As I read it, | vas magical- ly taken back more than fifty years to the time when Andy came to town. [ too remember when he took over the Davis Drug Store, but for different reasons. The news of his venture spread like wildfire. As might be expected, as a young, attractive single man, he was fair game for all sorts of speculation. *'Is he engaged?' "What Church will be attend?" *'Is he a Liberal or a Conser- vative?"' 'Can he play hockey?' Andsoon .... Having already impressed Port Perry citizens, Andy soon gained further favour by choosing to 'court' a popular local girl, '"'Mame" Switzer, whom 1 especially remember as a superb skater! There may have been some disappointment among local aspir- ing mothers of marriageable daughters, but on the whole Port Perry was delighted to have An- dy choose a hometown girl for a lifetime partner. Well do I recall most of the businesses An- dy listed: Doubt's Shoe Repairs for instance. In those days shoes were repaired until they fell apart, so many of us will remember that small, white-goateed, bespectacled shoemaker Mr. Doubt, who looked for all the world like a cob- bler from a fairy-tale. In contrast his able assis- tant Mr. Stevens was much younger, taller and dark-haired. He sported a moustache, and spoke with a pronounced English accent. He succeeded Mr. Doubt, and carried on the business for many years. THE RESTAURANTS 'Down the street, Walter Cook's *' White Kit- chen' was noted for excellent food and spotless premises. This brings to mind two other Cooks in town, perhaps even before the *'White Kit- chen." Tommy Cook's Bottling Works was in the shed behind his house at the south-east cor- ner of Bigelow and McDonald Streets. As children we would stand in his shed enchanted, watching a machine crimp bottle tops on the full pop bottles. The tops are the same today! His cream soda was my special favourite; I hoarded precious pennies to buy it on a hot day. I believe his business was later sold to Goode's. Then there was a third Cook, Billy. He delivered shipments by horse and wagon for the Station Express Office. It was said that although he could neither read nor write, he rarely if ever made a mistake in his deliveries. Back to the restaurants: congenial George Hall and his wife, both 'people of substance' also served tasty and hearty meals. I par- ticularly loved their 10 cent fresh pork sand- wich (no fat, please!) with ketchup (which we poured ourselves). it was an absolutely scrumptious after-school snack, if you had the 10 cents. One of my very earliest recollections of downtown Port Perry is the life-sized, and in- credibly life-like chestnut brown horse which stood motionless, day after day, in Jeffrey & Taylor's Harness Shop window. My nose glued to the glass, I longed to climb on its back. When the business was sold, the horse disappeared. Hazel Slemmon (nee Jeffrey) and Bill Brock made a valiant attempt to recover it for the Scugog Museum, but all traces of it had vanish- ed. What a pity! SELF-RELIANT During the Depression years, Port Perry businessmen had no easy time of it. Most stores operated on credit: an almost unknown practice today when there is Visa, or MasterCharge. It was tough going for the shopkeepers, but a lifeline for some of the locals. With no unemployment insurance or welfare payments, the town had to care for its own. Among the Churches, Lodges, 1.0.D.E.. other local groups and clubs, the Council and storekeepers, Port Perry managed. The reeve, councillors and School Board members were all elected; the posi- tions were unpaid. It was considered an honour to serve. Mostly they did a good job, too. If they didn't, they heard about it! The village was small, but self-sufficient. Unlike today, shopping elsewhere "was rare and except through Eaton's or Simpson's Mail Order catalogues. Most residents earned their livings locally. so were inter-dependent. Consequently, it was common practice to spread your business among all the shops as fairly as possible, even when it came to haircuts! The village supported several grocers, who competed with one another in matters of friendly ser- vice, quality and delivery. Yes, nearly every shop delivered in those days, by horse and wagon: the grocers, butchers, bakers, milkmen, ice and fuel dealers, and so on. Practically everything was delivered, ex- cept mail. Even today, our life-style would. change drastically if we had mail delivery. One specialty shop was Naples' Fruit Store. Except for the summer when most families had their own vegetable gardens, fresh fruit and vegetables were a luxury. Naples' stocked delicacies the other shops didn't carry. Dominion Stores opened the first (and last!) of the Supermarket Chains in Port Perry, with Charlie Brignall as Manager. Dominion Stores eventually departed: Charlie stayed. Their loss was Port Perry's gain. Charlie is still a well-known and well- respected citizen, more than fifty years ago. THE DRILL Naturally, one didn't share one's business between the dentists. Mine was Dr. Lunday, although Dr. Sangster was equally popular. Dr. Lundy's office was immaculate: his work more thorough than painless. I have nightmarish memories of his method of dealing with a cavi- ty (no fluoride then). By the time it was prepared for the filling, you were limp and ex- hausted from the excruciating ordeal of his drill: yet worse was still to come! A square of rubber with a hole in it was placed over the tooth, then a clamp on the tooth itself. The fill- ing was gradually tamped in, bit by bit, while your mouth filled with saliva and you drooled all down your front, hopefully onto the bib pro- vided. Then you were abandoned, seemingly for hours, slobbering helplessly, unable to swallow or close your mouth while the filling 'set." Just when you couldn't bear another se- covered the same ground by horse and buggy or sleigh. A man of boundless energy, enthusiasm and patriotism, 'Doc' Dymond saw the need for dedicated, responsible person in politics; ran for and was elected to the Ontario Legislature in 1955 as MPP for Ontario Riding. Much has been written locally about Dr. Dy- mond's political career from 1955 to 1975, especially his record as Minister of Health for eleven years. Nevertheless, old-times will remember him also as one of the last of the dy- ing breed of country doctors, who called on and cared for their patients, regardless of the circumstances. ' Dr. Dymond, retired officially in March 1984. The Dymonds, Jeanne and "Matt" still reside in their home on Cochrane Street. 'Matt' finds outlets for his still inexhaustable energy in national involvement with the Presbyterian Church, the Masonic Lodge and other demands on his time, as well as hobbies at home. To this day, he has retained his delightful Scottish accent, and people still refer to him affectionately as "Matt" or "Doc."" AN INSTITUTION I couldn't begin to write about ALL the business in Port Perry fifty to sixty years ago, but his article wouldn't be complete without mentioning Brock's Department Store: perhaps the only business left still operated by the same family. Brock's is not a business: it's an Institution! Except for the grocery depart- ment which used to be in the rear, Brock's is virtually unchanged. It still affords the same friendly service, excellent quality merchan- dise, and best of all the frequent presence of its owners, Arthur and Marguerite Brock. It is said among my peers that if you are searching for something almost impossible to find, Brock's just might have it! May this Port Perry Institution continue to be a Brock family 'Who am I, thatat my age andat 7:30a.m., I should look like Kate Jackson?' cond and were about to gag, Dr. Lundy would reappear to remove the clamp and that loathesome, repulsively slimy piece of rubber. What exquisite, ecstatic relief! In spite of, or perhaps because of the torture just described, those fillings lasted for years! DOCTORING I barely remember the first doctors here during my time: the brother doctors, Dr. Robert and Dr. David Archer. I vaguely recall Dr. Robert putting four stitches in a cut on my nose, and giving me a quarter for not crying. After Dr. Robert's death, and Dr. David's move to Oshawa, Dr. Rennie took over the Archer practice. Young, handsome, vigorous and a skillful surgeon, Dr. Rennie soon became wide- ly known. He prided himself on responding to house calls from any distance, at any hour, and under any conditions. In winter, he sped around the countryside in an original snowmobile of his own design. Port Perry's first ever. Skis replacing the front wheels, and chains on the rear of his modified automobile, I can see him yet: flying down the main street and loving every minute. With his distinctive, rolling gait, his colourful personality, his ready smile and hearty voice, he was Port Perry's 'Unforget- table Character.' Many older Port Perryites and others in the surrounding area have ex- cellent reason to cherish his memory. He pro- bably brought their children into the world. or saved their lives. In 1942, Dr. Matt Dymond came to Port Perry to share Dr. Rennie's practice. However, as a patriotic Scot, with the land of his birth threatened. not to mention the entire world, he went overseas with the Medical Corps in 1943 He doctored all over the European War theatre until his return in 1946. Back in Port Perry. he and Dr. Rennie continued to travel far and wide on house calls, marvelling sometimes that the doctors Archer must have business for many years to come. " 'It would be ridiculous for me to attempt to seriously compare life-styles of today with those of fifty or more years ago. If what [ have written so far is not exactly factual, forgive me. Put it down to the faulty memory of a Senior Citizen. One tends to believe that the 'Old Days' were best, because one remembers them with rose-coloured nostalgia. Few Seniors would care to put up with the insecurities, discom- forts, inconveniences, and working hours and conditions our parents and grandparents en- dured. Yet THEY would have said such a way of life built character, and who are we to argue"? On the other hand, they had no threat of total extinction through atomic warfare: less crimes, less violence and so on. And what hor- rors there were in their time were not flashed nightly on their TV screen as an aid to insom- nia. Few of our forefathers had stomach ulcers, I'll wager! I believe that the basics of life never change: different customs, life-styles and modern technical advances just make everything seem different. For instance, now we watch Bob Newhart on TV, instead of listen- ing to Jack Benny. TV's 'Dallas' taking the place of radio's *'Ma Perkins." I really couldn't say which of today's singers might be com- pared to Bing Crosby! We Seniors may deplore the violence, crime and sex on TV. Our silent Western movies were rather tame in com- parison. but they weren't exactly bedtime stories either! If we regard today with a jaun- diced eye, perhaps it's because we no longer see with the clear-eyed, expectant, idealistic vision of youth. Instead of deploring the pre- sent state of affairs. perhaps we should relax and leave the future to the young. They couldn't possibly make more of a mess of things than our generation has' As as Senior Citizen, some of us find today full of perplexities and pitfalls. We really do try to keep up to date, but it's not easy! Computers rule our every move, and we don't even unders- tand the terminology! Hardware and sofware" Nuts and bolts, and eiderdowns, perhaps? We return from a holiday to find we owe interest on our Eaton's account. We, who have paid our accounts regulary for forty-five or fifty years! A long record as a faithful customer means nothing to a computer!- THE SENIORS In spite of our occasional bewilderment, we have it made compared to our parents and grandparents in their latter years. 'Senior Citizens' is a comparatively new term. We are not sure we like it, but we use it anyway. It signifies Old Age Security payments, hospital and medical care and other Senior benefits. We enjoy a freedom and independence unknown before our time. Neither do we dread later dependence on our families, with private or subsidized nursing home care available. We are no longer relegated to rocking chairs on porches as onlookers: we actively participate in life, and we love it! We enjoy ourselves to the full; perhaps because we have fewer responsibilities, and are aware we could be here today and gone tomorrow. We take the time to admire a lovely flower garden, listen to a bird singing, notice a frost pattern on the window, or savour the flavour of fresh strawberries. Each day is a small lifetime in itself, because the past is past, and the future is out of our hands: there is only the present. And when we need it, our sense of humour comes to our rescue over and over again, at least mine does! A BATTLE During my two years of Senior Citizenship, I have acquired a taste for idle enjoyment. When I awaken, early each morning, 1 lie listening to my favourite radio station which features popular songs from the thirties. I am sixteen again, until I finally emerge from a mountain of bedding like a moth from a cocoon. Gingerly I get to my feet, my muscles stiff in sympathy with joints audibly creaking in pro- test. I totter to the bathroom, and without think- ing raise the blind to reveal a gorgeous, sunny day. I reveal even more! The mirror catches my eye, and I turn to confront an image even our Lord would be hard-put to love! Straggly gray hair surrounds an apple-doll face! Below this gargoyle visage I see shapeless mounds and bulges bordered by folds and creases, all covered with skin like tired crepe paper. Almost overnight it seems, they've replaced those curves and hollows, all in the right places, under satin-smooth, lightly-tanned skin. I shud- der and close my eyes: then my sense of humour comes to the fore. Who am I, that at my age and at 7:30 a.m., I should expect to look like Kate Jackson? Laughing to myself, I shuf- fle back to the bedroom to clothe that revolting vision. I tackle a pair of new pantyhose; an in- vention of the devil! First I put on gloves so my rough nails won't cause runs. Then I sit on the bed and try to get one foot in one side. My toes cramp: I drop everything and hop around in agony! I try the other foot, and the pantyhose somehow twists around and my other leg cramps, this time in the calf. Another round of hopping, then I try lying on the bed. My knees crack, and won't bend far enough for me to reach my feet! I give up: pull on knee-highs and slacks, and go downstairs to console myself with breakfast. I'd switch back to stockings, but I'm afraid after pantyhose, they'd be drafty! Later I sit at the kitchen window, drinking my coffee and planning my day. Idly I decide to procrastinate again over the things I should do, postpone again the things I really have to do soon, and then as fast as possible I will deal with the absolute necessities. And after that"? I'll find an easy chair in a cosy, bright corner, and I'll devour my latest Robert Ludlum thriller ' Yesterday I put off reading it until tomor- row. but I won't do that again. Besides, yester- day's tomorrow is today' EDITOR'S NOTE: The above article was submitted to the Port Perry Star by a local resi- dent who requested but one thing: anonymity. The Star is pleased to he able to print this delightful look back at some historical vignet- tes and the light, yet cogent comments about the present. And we shall respect the wish of the writer to remain nameless.