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From the station, I headed north on the little boardwalk sidewalk that went the full block from the station to downtown Langbank, where I would drop off a paper in the house that used to of been ours. It was just north and the lot east of Jack Hurst’s garage, which at that time of the day was quiet, as my deliveries were always made well before eight o'clock. I dropped off a paper at Tom and Ina Wilton's house. Tom and Ina had a son Fred, who was about my age, but the sort of guy that always was getting into trouble.
I then cross main street and went down the concrete sidewalk that went part way to the curling rink. Though, in the summer months I used my bicycle, most of the time the journey was made on foot. Though it was quicker with the bike, it was also more dangerous. Dogs not only hate paperboys, probably because of the bag, but they hate bike riding paperboys even more and even the most passive dog, becomes a killing monster when seeing a paperboy.
Langbank was unique with its sidewalks. Few villages of that era had sidewalks, but when we came to town in fifty-two, there were wood sidewalks on both sides of main street in the single downtown block and an extensive slightly elevated walk from Jack Hurst’s shop to the station. By 1956, there was a concrete sidewalk from the Co-op on the north side of the street up the corner beyond Sigathy’s and in front of McIntyre’s, McClement’s and north to Art Hall’s.
From the Co-op, I went down past the curling rink, which also housed the town’s drinking water supply. A deep well fitted with an electric pump brought up brutally cold water from about a hundred feet below the surface. The water was “hard” but no flavour issues and it was truly cold. Most people came to the pipe in the rink wall with a handle that you pulled to turn on the pump. We put our water in two five gallon cream cans, we also had a three gallon can that we sometimes used. North of the rink was the little United Church.
Langbank served it’s surrounding communities with two churches. The United Church has once been a “congregational church” and after unification, was a United Church, but had a certain independence to it. The other church in the community was the “Gospel Chapel,” a pentecostal church, that was forever holding midweek events and tried to entice young people to attend and be “saved.” There was a tiny but magnificent stone Anglican church just two miles south of the village. The only catholic family lived two miles south and attended mass in Kennedy, two miles to the west of them.
Beyond the United Church was the United Church manse which was the family home of the Brown family. Stan was a mechanic and performed the role of the town’s blacksmith and in 1956, there were still lots of horses that were used in agriculture and he was a busy man. His wife Tina was a war bride with a distinctive British accent and she opened a little cafe downtown between the Co-op store and what had been Moore’s store. Tina was hugely popular with people as she had charm and was an outgoing person. She and Stan had three children. Phyllis, a couple of years older than me, Billy, who was my age and my very best friend and their youngest was Eddy, who was a rather miserable little guy that had the distinctive knack for getting us in trouble. Some years later they did have another daughter.
Stan was a mechanic during the war and served where ever Canadian tank forces saw action. His war stories kept Billy and me enthralled by the hour. But Stan was a total package. After the war he had come to Langbank and found work as the John Deere mechanic for Dan McPherson. When Dan’s business closed, Stan opened his own welding and blacksmith shop and as mentioned, always had much more work than he could possible get through. In the church, Stan was an elder and taught the adult Sunday School class.
Langbank’s little United Church was an active community, but was served by the minister from Kennedy. four miles away. For reasons beyond my understanding, we usually only had church services every other Sunday and to hold the community together, we had a dynamic Sunday School each and every Sunday. For all intents and purposes, the Sunday School in Langbank was a debating society. The young people’s class and the adult class, were truly remarkable religious experiences. Stan led the adult group and Andrew Bruce looked after the senior group. The Sunday service was conducted by Andrew and Stan. Any and all opinions were welcome and there was an atmosphere of intellectual vigour that was perfect for any young person, or adult. I became, as a teenager, the Sunday School’s secretary, but in fact most of those duties were looked after by my Mom.
As I think back to that experience in Langbank United Church it was not only the influence of the adults in the religious community, but also of our peers. We had a choir, the principal Mrs. McKillop was the organist, we had an elaborate Wurletzer electric organ and each of us felt that we were a part of something. Billy and I were not alone, there was Jimmy Cairns, Phyllis, Melvin Hurst, Wilma Jean McKillop, Carol and Marjorie Wilton and there later there were the rural folks.
I then went back to the downtown area and dropped off the paper at the little grocery shop which had been Moore’s store, but by this time it been taken over by another family. My recollection was that their family name was Kish, but I am not sure of that and my father told me the lady’s name was Margaret. It was difficult for them to operate their little sore in that small village in the mid 50s, but they like their Winnipeg Free Press.
I then cross main street and went down the concrete sidewalk that went part way to the curling rink. Though, in the summer months I used my bicycle, most of the time the journey was made on foot. Though it was quicker with the bike, it was also more dangerous. Dogs not only hate paperboys, probably because of the bag, but they hate bike riding paperboys even more and even the most passive dog, becomes a killing monster when seeing a paperboy.
Langbank was unique with its sidewalks. Few villages of that era had sidewalks, but when we came to town in fifty-two, there were wood sidewalks on both sides of main street in the single downtown block and an extensive slightly elevated walk from Jack Hurst’s shop to the station. By 1956, there was a concrete sidewalk from the Co-op on the north side of the street up the corner beyond Sigathy’s and in front of McIntyre’s, McClement’s and north to Art Hall’s.
From the Co-op, I went down past the curling rink, which also housed the town’s drinking water supply. A deep well fitted with an electric pump brought up brutally cold water from about a hundred feet below the surface. The water was “hard” but no flavour issues and it was truly cold. Most people came to the pipe in the rink wall with a handle that you pulled to turn on the pump. We put our water in two five gallon cream cans, we also had a three gallon can that we sometimes used. North of the rink was the little United Church.
Langbank served it’s surrounding communities with two churches. The United Church has once been a “congregational church” and after unification, was a United Church, but had a certain independence to it. The other church in the community was the “Gospel Chapel,” a pentecostal church, that was forever holding midweek events and tried to entice young people to attend and be “saved.” There was a tiny but magnificent stone Anglican church just two miles south of the village. The only catholic family lived two miles south and attended mass in Kennedy, two miles to the west of them.
Beyond the United Church was the United Church manse which was the family home of the Brown family. Stan was a mechanic and performed the role of the town’s blacksmith and in 1956, there were still lots of horses that were used in agriculture and he was a busy man. His wife Tina was a war bride with a distinctive British accent and she opened a little cafe downtown between the Co-op store and what had been Moore’s store. Tina was hugely popular with people as she had charm and was an outgoing person. She and Stan had three children. Phyllis, a couple of years older than me, Billy, who was my age and my very best friend and their youngest was Eddy, who was a rather miserable little guy that had the distinctive knack for getting us in trouble. Some years later they did have another daughter.
Stan was a mechanic during the war and served where ever Canadian tank forces saw action. His war stories kept Billy and me enthralled by the hour. But Stan was a total package. After the war he had come to Langbank and found work as the John Deere mechanic for Dan McPherson. When Dan’s business closed, Stan opened his own welding and blacksmith shop and as mentioned, always had much more work than he could possible get through. In the church, Stan was an elder and taught the adult Sunday School class.
Langbank’s little United Church was an active community, but was served by the minister from Kennedy. four miles away. For reasons beyond my understanding, we usually only had church services every other Sunday and to hold the community together, we had a dynamic Sunday School each and every Sunday. For all intents and purposes, the Sunday School in Langbank was a debating society. The young people’s class and the adult class, were truly remarkable religious experiences. Stan led the adult group and Andrew Bruce looked after the senior group. The Sunday service was conducted by Andrew and Stan. Any and all opinions were welcome and there was an atmosphere of intellectual vigour that was perfect for any young person, or adult. I became, as a teenager, the Sunday School’s secretary, but in fact most of those duties were looked after by my Mom.
As I think back to that experience in Langbank United Church it was not only the influence of the adults in the religious community, but also of our peers. We had a choir, the principal Mrs. McKillop was the organist, we had an elaborate Wurletzer electric organ and each of us felt that we were a part of something. Billy and I were not alone, there was Jimmy Cairns, Phyllis, Melvin Hurst, Wilma Jean McKillop, Carol and Marjorie Wilton and there later there were the rural folks.
I then went back to the downtown area and dropped off the paper at the little grocery shop which had been Moore’s store, but by this time it been taken over by another family. My recollection was that their family name was Kish, but I am not sure of that and my father told me the lady’s name was Margaret. It was difficult for them to operate their little sore in that small village in the mid 50s, but they like their Winnipeg Free Press.