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LIFE IN RUSSELL
By: M. Denny Lalonde 2007

Some years ago I made the trip back to Russell Manitoba where I landed my first job after arriving in Canada. I wanted to walk the old streets and try to capture some of the atmosphere I enjoyed when I lived there in 1952.
Instinctively I found my way to the house where I first had board and room. Mr. & Mrs. Mc.Lennan passed on years ago, but the corner house still looks the same. It's built on a lot that is higher than both the roads that border the property. On the grass verge that runs down the road allowance at the house, are some long, deep depressions in the grass. Instantly I remembered how they got there. Mr.Stewart Mc.Lennan had an old Model T Ford parked there. He told me that if I could make it run, I could keep it. I never could, no matter how many thimes I tried. Now it's gone. I wonder where? Maybe someone did get it going. The Mc.Lennans' were retired farmers and moved into town after selling the farm. The old chap didn't seem happy in his retirement and was usually a bit gruff. Mrs. Mc.Lennan was very pleasant and they gave me a really nice room and the food was great.

Revisiting the town allowed me to wander and ponder over some of the small insignificant things I had overlooked when I lived there. Probably due to the youthfull exuberance of a 20 year old, being his own boss in a new world of adventure, among people who spoke a bit differently, in a climate that proved to be very hot or damn cold.

My means of support back then was working as a mechanic's helper in the big G.M garage owner by Frank Clement. I was the latest, youngest, and lowleyest employee on staff and Frank made sure I knew it.
However I refused to give in and kept plodding away at all and everything I was told to do. Believe me I was happy when I was sent to Winnipeg to Trade School for two months, as the start of an apprenticeship with a subsistance allowance (Govt Paid) of eleven dollars a week. All these thoughts rushed through my mind and then I settled back and focussed my eyes on the mail box that hung on the verandah of my first lodging house.

It was the very same mailbox that had been there when I lived there in 1952.
I wondered how many times I had opened that box. With anticipation oozing out of every pore, I hoped for an AirMail letter from my parents in England, or from my Sweetheart who had promised to join me within a year. I was already keeping my half of the bargain, saving money for 'our' home together.

I also wondered how many Eatons Catalogues had been dropped into that box over the years. I loved to look through those especially the Christmas Issue. Somehow they always ended up in the house with the "Half Moon Door" at the bottom of the garden. The paper was too thick and shiny especially on a cold dark night when I really didn't want to be there any longer than absolutely necessary.

Still thinking of those wonderful days, I headed toward the second place I stayed after the McLennans got too sick to keep the house. Dear old Mrs. Jack Anderson. This lady was in her eighties when I moved in as a lodger. She had another chap my own age staying there too his name was Harold Kopetski. Between us we did all the heavy work for Mrs. Anderson. She was a real gem and we both thought the world of her. I am sure she loved having us to offset the costs of everything apart from four young arms and legs to get the water in from the garden pump, take the big bath tub into the kitchen from it's hook outside on the shed wall, then empty if after one of us had our bath by the kitchen fire.
She spent her days looking after ailing Jack her lifelong husband who was slowing fading away in the downstairs front room. When he passed away she insisted we sat with her and the family at the funeral. It was held in the big church across the street from her home. Both Harold and I were honoured and very proud as she had few other relatives and no children.

I wandered along the still quiet road of homes, not looking quite as neat and proud as they once did. The town has become perhaps another victim of progress. In the 1950's it was a bussling center of the grain farming business.
Clements had become THE big farm implement dealer filling the farming needs of anyone within a fifty mile area. They could provide huge grain trucks, pick-ups, cars from three different GM badge lines Chevrolet Oldsmobile/ GMC Buick and almost anything in the implement line. They also represented Minniapolis Moline, and several other lines. Today the town is more of a ghost town. The young have moved out to greener pastures in the high tech businesses. Franks' sons have now retired and I understand a grandson runs the garage business. Russell has become another sleepy, quiet prairie town like many of it's neighbours. In the fifties the number of grain elevators in a town often told how big or busy a town was. Now many have been torn down due to lack of need. The huge ecconomy provided by grain production and shipping has diminished over the years. Everything has been modernized with the latest in High Tech equipment.

When I lived in Russell I learned to ice skate and we had the wonderful
indoor Ice Rink. It was cared for, flooded and scraped by a Mr. George Gibbons. He was also caretaker of the Bank. George was a retired farmer and drove a Cadillac, while the Bank manager could only afford a Chevy.
Now I found myself back on Main Street, across from the garage where I once worked. Behind me is the hall where they held dances. The side street beside Clemets Garage looks the same with the post office on the corner. Next door, upstairs was a great coffee shop called "Smitty's" I can't imagine how many hours a bunch of us young folks would spend in there drinking coffee or milkshakes and chatting about which small town dance we would go to on Saturday night.

Down the block toward the center of main street was "Smelly's" The actual name of a big shop that sold draperies and other such things. Before that, on the same side, was "Macleods" a name well known in almost all prarie towns. It was a hardware store that carried everything from shot guns and shells to boots, rain gear and every kind of sports gear, thermos flasks and even radios. I know that because I bought my first Hallicrafters short wave radio from Macleods, on the never-never too!! Had it paid off in about three months, then took it back and traded it for a winter parka, which I needed a lot more at the time.

Macleods has now gone, Smelly's has too, Smithy's is no longer there. So I wander a bit further down main street toward the edge of town. Past the old garage and on by the new modern motel with all it's neon displays. Within a hundred yards is the huge old house I remember well from my days there.It's hardly changed, a bit more ramshackle and covered more by the unruly trees that almost surround it. It's not so much the house but who stayed there that's important. You see, in the interim I had recieved a letter from my folks in England, saying my fiance had visited them. However her purpose was not a social call, it was more of a duty call. She had taken her parents' along, perhaps as support. The visit was short and emotional. Both our mothers were in tears. The end result being that the engagment was off. She wanted to marry another local chap she'd known for some months. When I read my Mum and Dad's AirMail I was stunned and speechless. I felt very alone and suddenly quite nervous, not so much about my own future, more about the sudden missing half of a life partnership we had both planned on for so long.
In those days a good stiff drink was impossible to get unless you bought a bottle at the liquor store. After filling in your name and address, showing your drivers license, writing the 'kind' of booze you wanted, by cataloge number on a slip of paper, paying for it, then another chap would go and get it put it in a small brown paper bag and you left with your purchase. There were no bars in those days. Anyway I had no money, it was all in the savings 'marriage account'.

Now as I get closer I see the big old house was even more delapidated than I remembered. All those years ago it was the temporary home of a young lady, Edith Craig, that I had made friends with at the skating rink. I had previously confided in her about my plans for the future and that my betrothed would be coming to Canada. She was genuinely interested and wished us both well. Now I was telling her, over a cup of hot coffee at Smitty's, about the devestating news I had just recieved. After we finished our coffee she suggested we go skating, as the cold air and exercise may help in relieveing my tension and anxiety. We did, we skated all evening and I felt a lot better afterwards. I walked her to her home at the Big House and went home myself. In the following days running up to Christmas work was busy at the garage, and all of us looked forward to the few days off when the holidays came along. I spent Christmas at home with the McLennans, it was nice but nothing like being 'home' in the true sense. The town was pretty quiet most stores were closed for the two day holiday. The only coffee shop open on boxing day was the Chinamans and I didn't fancy going in there.
December 31st saw the annual New Years Eve Dance at the big hall in town. Harold suggested we go as we didn't have anything else to do. We must have got there about eight and things were already swinging. Neither of us had partners so we wandered to the bar and got ourselves a beer then stood on the sidelines and watched the dancers.
Next dance was a Ladies Choice. Out of the blue Edith appeared in front of me and asked if I would like to dance. How nice of her to ask me, We danced together most of the evening. Harold had also found a lady to dance with so both of us had a very enjoyable time. At the stroke of midnight, streamers and ballons were showered over everyone in the hall. Hugs and Happy New Years kisses were exchanged after which the party began to wind down and people started to leave. Edith asked Harold and his new friend and me if we would like to go back to her friends home. There we could continue dancing to records and enjoying some home style hospitality. This ladys home was a big bungalow in the newer part of town. The inside was lovely and very nicely furnished. I would think there was a total of twenty five people there some from the dance and others who had helped set everything up. We ate, drank and danced well into early morning.
By six o'clock most folks had gone home. Only our hostess, along with Edith and Harold and I plus another two couples were left. I seem to remember catching about an hours sleep on one of the couches. I woke up when my shoulder was being shaken, it was Edith asking if I wanted to go with her by train to Rossburn and stay at her parents home for the rest of the two day weekend. After I came to my senses I agreed and rushed off home to pack my razor and toothbrush and a clean shirt. Within the hour we were on our way to Rossburn. Her Dad picked us up from the station and we drove about a mile out of town to their home, a small holding protected by a windbreak of tall trees. Mrs. Craig opened the door to greet us and soon we were enjoying a light lunch accompanied by some home made wine. Mr. Craig entertained us that evening with his mandolin. It was a very pleasant visit, the Craigs were kind and gentle people and I enjoyed my short stay with them. Next morning we headed back to the station and took the train back to Russell. School started up again on the monday and I had to be back at work. After that Edith and I became the center of local gossip for a while, as we were seen together most evenings and weekends skating or in Smitty's. Or walking through town. Sometimes she would invite me to dinner at the Big House. She was a good cook and we enjoyed many evening meals together in her small top foor apartment.

Looking at it now Big House is even more ghostly than it was back in the 50's. I wonder who lives there now if anyone?. When Edith lived there the old woman who owned the place was quite miserable as I remember but she never turned down the monthly rent from Edith.
Not a lot more has been added to the town since my time there. In fact some buildings have gone, torn down to make way for something else or modified to the point I don't recognise them any longer.

The following summer I returned to Winnipeg to finish my trade school apprenticeship and secured a job at Inman Motors. I heard that Edith had been taken very ill and was brought to a Winnipeg hospital. I did try to see her but her parents said she was too ill to have visitors. I wrote her a letter and delivered it to the hotel where her parents were staying, but I never heard from her again. To this day I wonder what happened to Edith Craig, my good friend, who taught school in Russell in the early 1950.

M. Denny Lalonde 2007