..
Though the whole project looking like an interesting challenge, it was not something a person would lie awake at night dreaming of one day becoming a paperboy, let's face it, it was drudgery. Early each morning, six days a week, I would take the empty paper bag and head to the CNR station. From the CNR foreman's house, our house, I walked a couple hundred yards to the station where usually my papers lay tied in the bundle on the station platform, or in the station lobby. When I first started out, I think I used to get about 24 papers a day, but that grew into more than 30 and when you consider the size of Langbank, that was pretty good, because in total the village would have not had more than 82 people at anytime.
With the papers loaded in the bag I first began my journey heading out towards the highway where I made my first delivery to Dolph Sourois’, he and his wife operated the Esso service station right on Highway 9 at the entrance into Langbank.
Jack Hurst had first started the business, right after the war and times were tough. Jack came up with an interesting construction material, he cut up oil cans, flattened them and nailed them to the building which was both house and shop, this was the siding of the building and may still be on it to this day.
Dolph and his wife were an interesting couple, in their late middle age, Dolphn had been a farmer and some kind of salesman, he drove a big fancy Buick car perhaps it was an Oldsmobile and she was very eccentric lady, very generous and always had a treat for me at least once a week. I not only delivered them the paper, but usually looked after mowing their lawn and sometimes ran arrons for them.
My second delivery was to the CNR section bunkhouse, where I dropped off the paper for Emil Burtalon. Emil was a huge muscular labour, he was single, usually wore a bit of a mustach and had a swarthy complexion. He had quite a distinctive Hungarian accent.
From the bunkhouse, I made my way to the house immediately opposite from ours, the National Grain’s agent house, it was the home of Jim and Betty Parker and their children, Dorothy and Allan.. At the time, Jim Parker was the agent for Federal Green whose elevator was immediately across the track south of our house, it was a rundown stunted little elevator which in a year or two was bought by National Grain. Jim Parker was an exceptionally interesting and worthwhile individual, he was a veteran of World War II, spoke with a soft voice, but when he spoke, people listened and knew of his wisdom and common good sense. I really enjoyed discussions with him about politics and current events. His wife Betty, was a war bride spoke, with a bit of an English accent and was a hairdresser, she was hard not to like, just one of those exuberant characters who made a mark in the community. Their daughter Dorothy was a couple years younger than I, wore glasses and a huge smile, the Parkers were good people.
Their next-door neighbour, also just kitty corner across the street from us, was Bill and Irene West. They operated a garage and fuel pumps in their yard. It was an automotive repair shop, a big one, Bill wore Coke bottle glasses, was an intense individual with a quick grin, hard-working and really smart, he too was a World War II veteran, having worked during the war as a military mechanic. After the war, he worked as a mechanic for Jack Hurst in his Massey Harris shop until fifty-four or fifty-five, when he began his own business. Besides being a remarkable mechanic, he was a gunsmith and an avid hunter. Then on the side, if you needed something blown up, Bill could handle explosives. He put a new outhouse toilet hole in our yard using a series of small allotments of dynamite.
Bill’s wife Irene was even more remarkable, Irene was a short round lady whose family came from Winnipeg, I think the last name was Bender, but most remarkable about Irene was her memory. She knew everybody's birthday, everybody's name, in short, she was a walking database on everybody in the community. If you needed to know something about somebody, you Googled Irene, she knew it. Their eldest daughter was Marlyn, a blond girl with glasses and the same age as Dorothy, she had two younger brothers, Bert and Gordy. They were interesting characters having grown up around the garage, each of these children were mechanics in their own right.
After dropping the paper off at Wests I want kitty corner back over to the station where I would leave Cliff and Mary Holloway's paper . Cliff was a tall man with type one diabetes and was often seen shovelling snow and digging up his garden, always in need of exercise to balance off sugars and insulin. I especially enjoyed golfing with both he and Mary. Mary was charming, warm, pleasant, one of the nicest ladies that you would ever meet and they had one son, Ron, who was my little brother's best friend. Ron was a tall gangly kid with bright red hair and freckles.
With the papers loaded in the bag I first began my journey heading out towards the highway where I made my first delivery to Dolph Sourois’, he and his wife operated the Esso service station right on Highway 9 at the entrance into Langbank.
Jack Hurst had first started the business, right after the war and times were tough. Jack came up with an interesting construction material, he cut up oil cans, flattened them and nailed them to the building which was both house and shop, this was the siding of the building and may still be on it to this day.
Dolph and his wife were an interesting couple, in their late middle age, Dolphn had been a farmer and some kind of salesman, he drove a big fancy Buick car perhaps it was an Oldsmobile and she was very eccentric lady, very generous and always had a treat for me at least once a week. I not only delivered them the paper, but usually looked after mowing their lawn and sometimes ran arrons for them.
My second delivery was to the CNR section bunkhouse, where I dropped off the paper for Emil Burtalon. Emil was a huge muscular labour, he was single, usually wore a bit of a mustach and had a swarthy complexion. He had quite a distinctive Hungarian accent.
From the bunkhouse, I made my way to the house immediately opposite from ours, the National Grain’s agent house, it was the home of Jim and Betty Parker and their children, Dorothy and Allan.. At the time, Jim Parker was the agent for Federal Green whose elevator was immediately across the track south of our house, it was a rundown stunted little elevator which in a year or two was bought by National Grain. Jim Parker was an exceptionally interesting and worthwhile individual, he was a veteran of World War II, spoke with a soft voice, but when he spoke, people listened and knew of his wisdom and common good sense. I really enjoyed discussions with him about politics and current events. His wife Betty, was a war bride spoke, with a bit of an English accent and was a hairdresser, she was hard not to like, just one of those exuberant characters who made a mark in the community. Their daughter Dorothy was a couple years younger than I, wore glasses and a huge smile, the Parkers were good people.
Their next-door neighbour, also just kitty corner across the street from us, was Bill and Irene West. They operated a garage and fuel pumps in their yard. It was an automotive repair shop, a big one, Bill wore Coke bottle glasses, was an intense individual with a quick grin, hard-working and really smart, he too was a World War II veteran, having worked during the war as a military mechanic. After the war, he worked as a mechanic for Jack Hurst in his Massey Harris shop until fifty-four or fifty-five, when he began his own business. Besides being a remarkable mechanic, he was a gunsmith and an avid hunter. Then on the side, if you needed something blown up, Bill could handle explosives. He put a new outhouse toilet hole in our yard using a series of small allotments of dynamite.
Bill’s wife Irene was even more remarkable, Irene was a short round lady whose family came from Winnipeg, I think the last name was Bender, but most remarkable about Irene was her memory. She knew everybody's birthday, everybody's name, in short, she was a walking database on everybody in the community. If you needed to know something about somebody, you Googled Irene, she knew it. Their eldest daughter was Marlyn, a blond girl with glasses and the same age as Dorothy, she had two younger brothers, Bert and Gordy. They were interesting characters having grown up around the garage, each of these children were mechanics in their own right.
After dropping the paper off at Wests I want kitty corner back over to the station where I would leave Cliff and Mary Holloway's paper . Cliff was a tall man with type one diabetes and was often seen shovelling snow and digging up his garden, always in need of exercise to balance off sugars and insulin. I especially enjoyed golfing with both he and Mary. Mary was charming, warm, pleasant, one of the nicest ladies that you would ever meet and they had one son, Ron, who was my little brother's best friend. Ron was a tall gangly kid with bright red hair and freckles.