Canadian Graffiti Part One
Though I am an original Bronte resident, my interest in its history has been limited. A visit to the Sovereign House/Bronte Historical Society and there is a virtual feast of information. It is somewhat static, dry and primarily focused on its founding through to the early 1950s. It is a must see to understand the genesis of the village and its evolution to what exists today.
Being less than 50 or so miles from the U.S. border there is no doubt our lives have been shaped by the history, culture and media of our neighbour. To some degree, it was though we stumbled upon a group of older kids playing a game that we would love to join in, but it's their field, they are older and we really don't know who they are so we can't ask to play. All we can do is sit on the hill and watch. Occasionally, a ball will land near us and we will get to throw it back into the game. The more often we stopped by to watch, the more we picked up the language, dress and mannerisms. But ultimately it was their game.
Up to that last day in Grade 8, life for an early teen was classless. We almost all came from working class families. We did not have pools, many mothers didn't drive and money and vacations limited. In the summer there was the odour of fresh cut grass and the Lake smell mixed with warm humid air. In the Fall the pungent air of burning leaves that wafted through the streets. You left your house at 9 a.m. heading out on your bike to return in time for dinner. Then It was back out till it got dark.
It was important to move on from a pair of Tee Kays ordered from the Sears or Eaton's catalogue to Levy's from Eames at Skyway Plaza or Cliffords at Hopedale. You were also trapped in that void between adolescence and being a teenager with all the pressures of dating. Should I go to Lloyd Loveridge's to race slot cars or to the first dance at TAB with Richie Knight and the Midnights? Should I ask someone, and what about dancing. A safer bet seemed to be the Flood Light Football games at the Athletic Field or Ice Night at the Oakville Arena.
Within the first few months of high school the social order came into focus. Those people in grades 11, 12 and 13 were not to be talked to, guys and girls on school sports teams were gods. And what were those teachers doing behind the closed teachers room door. Then there were the elite, the fraternity guys and sorority girls, older, bigger, on sports teams and they had their jackets, pins and pledges.
Back at home base guys were still using Brylcream and the first wave were leaving high school at 16 or 17, getting jobs and buying cars. You knew them, they were older brothers from families we grew up with. The norm was to quit high school and few of my contemporaries either wanted to or had the support (family or financial) to go on to university. There was the lure of big money at Ford, Mack Truck, GE and Procor.
If you are a user or member of the various Facebook pages; as you read through the numerous posts what emerges is an oral history of Bronte for a period spanning 3 or 4 decades. This isn't a conventional history about politics, decisions or things that were built and by whom. Rather, it is a community history, how people lived, grew up...their experiences, memories and friendships .
Bronte is once again changing. There are 3 major developments underway which bookend the village. Along with the recent redevelopment of the Fresh Air Mission/Petries land (for newer residents, Sobeys, Bronte Village Mall) remnants of what most people identified as "Bronte" have disappeared. These visual changes have created a tsunami of negative comments and hand wringing over the "destruction" of their "hometown". A few have suggested it would be great to go back to the way it was in the 1970s.
But do we?
Back then we had two refineries (remember the smell and the pulsing flare stack at night). There were 9 gas stations 2 car washes, fast food joints, greasy spoons, 2 laundromats and Petrie's cabins (more rats than renters). Many of the homes were little more the cottages. Let's not forget Highfield's mushroom farm (another wonderful smell) and then Pioneer Pools sales centre and Cliff Gilliam's mink farm with skinning in the basement of his house. Bronte was the poster child of a gasoline alley.
Despite the significant changes to the physical landscape, in many ways much of Bronte's landscape is still intact. The Lake, Bronte Creek, the Bluffs/Flats, Pier, Bronte Beach, cemetery and what I consider 2 of the most iconic buildings, Walton Church and Glendella House.
Born out of this angst is an incredible level of negativity about every change, event and occurrence. Whether kids hanging out, motorcycles on Lakeshore, fireworks, parking and new businesses; the list goes on and on. This negativity extends to people and businesses being successful, organizing events, music concerts, new ideas to make Bronte better and the new development.
Looking at this discourse from my perch of a 73 year long resident, there is a divide between wishing for the past and condemning the present and the future. There is certainly a degree of amusement that some of the angst relates to the historical DNA of Bronte and what I have long considered is a view of a mythical Bronte that was not Cabot Cove.
One of the more interesting posts was whether Bronte was or had become the "Hood" of Oakville. Many replied with comments about Bronte Boys of the time and that it was the wrong side of town. I guess they are newer residents who with the help of social media are wondering if Bronte had returned to its old roots.
So let's go back in time to what is the DNA of Bronte, a glimpse of that past. In part this might explain why there is an incredible connection to the village, particularly by those who grew up here between 1950 and the early 1980s.
Spoiler alert that connection may not be to the existence of 9 gasoline stations.
Being less than 50 or so miles from the U.S. border there is no doubt our lives have been shaped by the history, culture and media of our neighbour. To some degree, it was though we stumbled upon a group of older kids playing a game that we would love to join in, but it's their field, they are older and we really don't know who they are so we can't ask to play. All we can do is sit on the hill and watch. Occasionally, a ball will land near us and we will get to throw it back into the game. The more often we stopped by to watch, the more we picked up the language, dress and mannerisms. But ultimately it was their game.
Up to that last day in Grade 8, life for an early teen was classless. We almost all came from working class families. We did not have pools, many mothers didn't drive and money and vacations limited. In the summer there was the odour of fresh cut grass and the Lake smell mixed with warm humid air. In the Fall the pungent air of burning leaves that wafted through the streets. You left your house at 9 a.m. heading out on your bike to return in time for dinner. Then It was back out till it got dark.
It was scrub, ball hockey, racing slot cars and more. If you had a quarter, it bought a plate of fries and Pepsi at the Riverside. In the winter it was tobogganing at Postmas's hill, hockey on the marsh and then on the creek. It was penny candy at Highfields, Allans or Quinns. There were backyard sleep outs in canvas tents that leaked and sneaking out after midnight to Parade the Streets. It was hijinks, some petty crime, raiding Cudmores and mischief. Oh and we hung out in Bronte and families had fireworks displays in their backyards.
The cultural change in the United States was seismic and the vibrations were sent through the airwaves on tv and radio until they landed in Oakville. There was always a time delay as the various cultural waves landed on our shores.
For those reasons we saw a mash of the 50s and 60s together at one time in Bronte. There were the 50s greasers in the form of the Bronte guys with their hot cars at the A & W, or high school kids hanging out at the Riverside Restaurant, our version of Arnold's. At the same time fraternities and sororities had a strong presence in high schools unlike in the US where they were a product of college and university life. There was even a brief period around 64-65 where we spent the summer hanging out a Bronte Beach, trying to emulate the Southern California beach culture we saw on Where the Action Is.
The middle 60's saw the emergence of the first hippies and counter culture. My contribution was to grow long hair and purchase an army surplus jacket from TNT in downtown Oakville and draw a peace sign on the back. Oh and there was that brief flirtation with the Monkee's and our double breasted pea coats and toques to give us that Mike Naismith cool look. Thank goodness it didn't last too long.
In the early 60s television and music were the cultural drivers. Whether the rocket launches we watched in our class rooms, rushing home to catch American Bandstand or the Kennedy assassination.
All the media came from this exotic but familiar place to the south. Now to be fair, Rocket Ship 7, and Irv Weinstien reporting on a fire at 310 Hertal Avenue on Buffalo's lower east side is not that exotic. But every once and awhile there would be a report from New York City or LA or protests led by Martin Luther King which were hard to understand or relate to.
The pop culture wave really began to crash over our shores around 1964, strangely enough from Britain through the Beatles via the Ed Sullivan show. We had Hullabaloo, Shindig and Where the Action Is, to provide us visual images of own music heroes.
This was where the music transcended from the vinyl 45 we bought at Lofquists Record Bar or played on the Riverside's juke box to real people, fashion and style. While we absorbed and tried to participate in this cultural shift, we were really not in the game, but sitting on the hillside watching.
Those cultural changes simply did not exist here in Canada or Oakville. Sure you saw the reports by Walter Cronkite on the evening news from Vietnam and the protests, but they were remote, taking place in a far off land the other side of the TV screen. The closest I came to a protest was being in Yorkville (as a tourist) the night of the sit-down in opposition to the car traffic streaming through the Village.
During this time there was this mash of 50s-60s culture largely driven by clothes, hair, music, who you hung out with and what you did. Heading off to Blakelock from the safety and security of Westbrook Public School vaulted me into a different world. Yes I could go home from school those first few months to the Riverside Restaurant where your group and social order was already established. But high school raised very important questions; who were you? And where did you belong?
The middle 60's saw the emergence of the first hippies and counter culture. My contribution was to grow long hair and purchase an army surplus jacket from TNT in downtown Oakville and draw a peace sign on the back. Oh and there was that brief flirtation with the Monkee's and our double breasted pea coats and toques to give us that Mike Naismith cool look. Thank goodness it didn't last too long.
In the early 60s television and music were the cultural drivers. Whether the rocket launches we watched in our class rooms, rushing home to catch American Bandstand or the Kennedy assassination.
All the media came from this exotic but familiar place to the south. Now to be fair, Rocket Ship 7, and Irv Weinstien reporting on a fire at 310 Hertal Avenue on Buffalo's lower east side is not that exotic. But every once and awhile there would be a report from New York City or LA or protests led by Martin Luther King which were hard to understand or relate to.
The pop culture wave really began to crash over our shores around 1964, strangely enough from Britain through the Beatles via the Ed Sullivan show. We had Hullabaloo, Shindig and Where the Action Is, to provide us visual images of own music heroes.
This was where the music transcended from the vinyl 45 we bought at Lofquists Record Bar or played on the Riverside's juke box to real people, fashion and style. While we absorbed and tried to participate in this cultural shift, we were really not in the game, but sitting on the hillside watching.
Those cultural changes simply did not exist here in Canada or Oakville. Sure you saw the reports by Walter Cronkite on the evening news from Vietnam and the protests, but they were remote, taking place in a far off land the other side of the TV screen. The closest I came to a protest was being in Yorkville (as a tourist) the night of the sit-down in opposition to the car traffic streaming through the Village.
During this time there was this mash of 50s-60s culture largely driven by clothes, hair, music, who you hung out with and what you did. Heading off to Blakelock from the safety and security of Westbrook Public School vaulted me into a different world. Yes I could go home from school those first few months to the Riverside Restaurant where your group and social order was already established. But high school raised very important questions; who were you? And where did you belong?
It was important to move on from a pair of Tee Kays ordered from the Sears or Eaton's catalogue to Levy's from Eames at Skyway Plaza or Cliffords at Hopedale. You were also trapped in that void between adolescence and being a teenager with all the pressures of dating. Should I go to Lloyd Loveridge's to race slot cars or to the first dance at TAB with Richie Knight and the Midnights? Should I ask someone, and what about dancing. A safer bet seemed to be the Flood Light Football games at the Athletic Field or Ice Night at the Oakville Arena.
Within the first few months of high school the social order came into focus. Those people in grades 11, 12 and 13 were not to be talked to, guys and girls on school sports teams were gods. And what were those teachers doing behind the closed teachers room door. Then there were the elite, the fraternity guys and sorority girls, older, bigger, on sports teams and they had their jackets, pins and pledges.
Back at home base guys were still using Brylcream and the first wave were leaving high school at 16 or 17, getting jobs and buying cars. You knew them, they were older brothers from families we grew up with. The norm was to quit high school and few of my contemporaries either wanted to or had the support (family or financial) to go on to university. There was the lure of big money at Ford, Mack Truck, GE and Procor.
Their hangouts were the Root and Rayburn's garage. The routine was to meet up at Rayburn's and if lucky you would be asked to go for a cruise into downtown Oakville to see what was happening. It would end with a very slow tour of the A&W, revving of the engine to go over the speed bump and backing into a side space to order a swamp water and coney fries. Later on Sir Pizza was the place to gather after 11 p.m.
A rare and exotic treat was to cruise all the way to Aldershot to cruise the Root, in that far way place, or assemble on Radial Road, just west of Mississauga Street for a drag race. Looking back, the car culture of Bronte was not all that far removed what was presented in American Graffiti. We had many of the same characters and experiences captured in the movie.
Around 65 a few more American influences emerged, first was the skateboard. Mine was a narrow maple version with steel roller skate wheels. Back in those times, other than Lakeshore, most of the streets were gravel mixed with tar and not ideal for skateboarding. There was a small hill on the Shell Station at Lakeshore and Mississauga Street that worked quite well. All said, with such bad conditions, and cheap equipment. it is amazing there weren't more broken arms, legs or a few head injuries.
The second influence to emerge were motorcycles. Engine Sales and Service took over the Shell station and we began to see the first generations of 50, 75 and 100 cc Suzuki's and Hondas. Quickly a bike culture began to emerge in Bronte, largely based around the Riverside and Dairy Queen. As we progressed through the 60s, larger bikes were purchased, Honda Wildcats, BSA's, Triumphs and the odd Harley. The emergence of a bike culture in Bronte had a bit of heritage linking back to the late 50s and early 60s. Bike gangs did exist in Ontario. In Hamilton there were the Red Devils who called the Beach Strip home. From Toronto, the legendary BDR, Black Diamond Riders, with their leader "Johnny Sombrarro". Urban legend tells how the two gangs used to meet at Lakeshore and Bronte Road to rumble. In the mid to late 60s the Wild Ones and Satan's Choice emerged as dominant gangs. The Wild Ones used to have a club house on Hwy. 5 near 4th Line and there were two or three colour wearing members of the Choice residing in Oakville.
It was not long before this mix of teenagers, freedom, cars and motorcycles began to take a toll. In the space of five years between 64-69 a number of the faces in my class photos were no longer with us. First was Lynn Brockway, followed by Ian Gilmore, Wayne McLeod, Howie Van Sickle and Richard Sinclair. All lived within a 4 block area.
It seemed as though every summer the bad news would trickle through our small community that another friend had died.
Sadly, this was another connection to that American culture, the stories on the radio told in Leader of the Pack and Dead Man's Curve were becoming true.
I remember facing this incredible conflict of culture, yes I was a Bronte Boy connected to the car, bike and greasers, but at Blakelock I desperately wanted to be asked to pledge for a fraternity.
I was asked in Grade 10 along with John Nash and a few others I can't remember. The events during pledging are however a little more clear. They include getting the pledge book signed by girls and riding in the back of Dave Sutherland's Sprite one cold October evening to the Victory Burlesque on Spadina Avenue in Toronto. There was a stop along the way to purchase a pee shooter and beans. I will leave the rest to your imagination. The cold ride back to the DQ in Bronte and the slushy were equally as memorable. Hell night was held at Lion's Park below the Hwy. 5 bridge as was it for most fraternities. A cold night again, the smell of tabassco, molasses and god knows what else was poured over your head. There was the obligatory paddling and the pledge while surrounded by members holding candles. After a few hours it was back to the Oakville Armoury to get cleaned up. Only on this evening Nash became incredibly sick and had to be rushed home.
The following Monday there was no better feeling than walking into school wearing your fraternity jacket. Less of a symbol of your organization but more of having found your group. Interestingly enough, that same jacket made me an outsider with the Bronte Boys and it was never really worn when heading out with the guys.
A rare and exotic treat was to cruise all the way to Aldershot to cruise the Root, in that far way place, or assemble on Radial Road, just west of Mississauga Street for a drag race. Looking back, the car culture of Bronte was not all that far removed what was presented in American Graffiti. We had many of the same characters and experiences captured in the movie.
Around 65 a few more American influences emerged, first was the skateboard. Mine was a narrow maple version with steel roller skate wheels. Back in those times, other than Lakeshore, most of the streets were gravel mixed with tar and not ideal for skateboarding. There was a small hill on the Shell Station at Lakeshore and Mississauga Street that worked quite well. All said, with such bad conditions, and cheap equipment. it is amazing there weren't more broken arms, legs or a few head injuries.
The second influence to emerge were motorcycles. Engine Sales and Service took over the Shell station and we began to see the first generations of 50, 75 and 100 cc Suzuki's and Hondas. Quickly a bike culture began to emerge in Bronte, largely based around the Riverside and Dairy Queen. As we progressed through the 60s, larger bikes were purchased, Honda Wildcats, BSA's, Triumphs and the odd Harley. The emergence of a bike culture in Bronte had a bit of heritage linking back to the late 50s and early 60s. Bike gangs did exist in Ontario. In Hamilton there were the Red Devils who called the Beach Strip home. From Toronto, the legendary BDR, Black Diamond Riders, with their leader "Johnny Sombrarro". Urban legend tells how the two gangs used to meet at Lakeshore and Bronte Road to rumble. In the mid to late 60s the Wild Ones and Satan's Choice emerged as dominant gangs. The Wild Ones used to have a club house on Hwy. 5 near 4th Line and there were two or three colour wearing members of the Choice residing in Oakville.
It was not long before this mix of teenagers, freedom, cars and motorcycles began to take a toll. In the space of five years between 64-69 a number of the faces in my class photos were no longer with us. First was Lynn Brockway, followed by Ian Gilmore, Wayne McLeod, Howie Van Sickle and Richard Sinclair. All lived within a 4 block area.
It seemed as though every summer the bad news would trickle through our small community that another friend had died.
Sadly, this was another connection to that American culture, the stories on the radio told in Leader of the Pack and Dead Man's Curve were becoming true.
I remember facing this incredible conflict of culture, yes I was a Bronte Boy connected to the car, bike and greasers, but at Blakelock I desperately wanted to be asked to pledge for a fraternity.
I was asked in Grade 10 along with John Nash and a few others I can't remember. The events during pledging are however a little more clear. They include getting the pledge book signed by girls and riding in the back of Dave Sutherland's Sprite one cold October evening to the Victory Burlesque on Spadina Avenue in Toronto. There was a stop along the way to purchase a pee shooter and beans. I will leave the rest to your imagination. The cold ride back to the DQ in Bronte and the slushy were equally as memorable. Hell night was held at Lion's Park below the Hwy. 5 bridge as was it for most fraternities. A cold night again, the smell of tabassco, molasses and god knows what else was poured over your head. There was the obligatory paddling and the pledge while surrounded by members holding candles. After a few hours it was back to the Oakville Armoury to get cleaned up. Only on this evening Nash became incredibly sick and had to be rushed home.
The following Monday there was no better feeling than walking into school wearing your fraternity jacket. Less of a symbol of your organization but more of having found your group. Interestingly enough, that same jacket made me an outsider with the Bronte Boys and it was never really worn when heading out with the guys.
Around 1965 Bronte had its first flirtation with something new and different for teens. The basement of the Walton was turned into the Cave Coffee House. I still remember seeing a local band the Prediction on stage and mesmerized as the stage was lit with a strobe light as they played an extended version of 99/12 Won't Do and the lead guitarist breaking through the stage in slow motion.
By 67-68-69 we were still trying to catch up with the American cultural wave. San Francisco had the Haight, New York, Greenwich Village and Washington Square. Toronto had arrived with the birth of Yorkville. In Oakville, the "scene" was shifting to dances at the Pine Room and Kinoak Arena and a youth drop in centre in the old library in downtown Oakville. To this day whenever I hear In A Gadda Da Vida (the really long version), it brings back memories of hanging out on the steps and concerts in the basement on a hot, sultry summer's evening in what is now Tommy Bahamas. There is the memory of a hot humid night in this hangout and a gig by Oakville's pre-eminent band the Sketch. By then the frat jacket, loafers and button down shirts had been traded for bell bottoms and that army surplus jacket purchased at TNT. Many an evening was spent sitting cross legged in Gore Park at the corner of Lakeshore and Bronte Road, listening to music on a transistor radio, trying desperately to look and act like a hippie we saw on tv or in Toronto, and attempting to figure out what to do next.
Bronte, in the larger context of Oakville, was seen as the wrong side of town. It was certainly more working class. The "Bronte Boys" were the one's parents didn't want their daughters to date or their sons to associate with. While they could hold their own in a fight or a party, the reality was most of us had acquired that "christian work ethic". We couldn't afford to tune in and drop out. Most of us had part time jobs while going to school and some times two jobs in the summer. For myself, I worked at Lakeside Marketeria, where I did all jobs in the store with my favourite driving delivery truck. This afforded me freedom to set my own pace, wear my hair long and be out an about with the ability to run into friends.
By the late 60s it was time to make decisions about our futures. Many of my friends left high school early to work at Ford, GE or St. Lawrence Cement, with the lure of money in their pockets and a muscle car to cruise around town.
My last 2 years in high school was more about hanging with friends, playing on the Blakelock hockey team, buying records and attending as many concerts as I could afford. I was fortunate enough to see the Beatles in 66, the Stones in 67 and a wealth of Toronto bands including the Ugly Ducks, the Mandela and Grant Smith and the Power. Dating was glue that held your life together. Some people had steady girl or boy friends and were known as a couple around school, others played the field.
By my last year I was at a loss what to do with my life. I didn't take high school all that seriously in terms of marks, and I was not going to become an Ontario Scholar or valedictorian. I did stumble across a course in Urban Geography where I learned about this thing called town planning. Suddenly, a light bulb turned on that this is what I wanted to do. First it was off to college for honor's diplomas in Urban Planning, the Transportation Planning and Traffic Engineering, then a degree in Urban Geography.
Between 1970 - 73 I continued to live in Bronte but I was away in Brampton and then Hamilton at school, commuting each day and returning at night to work evenings and weekends at Lakeside to pay rent and survive. Interests and priorities shifted and friends slowly changed while others drifted away or moved. I can remember seeing Woodstock at the movies wishing I was there, so 1970 I headed off to Strawberry Fields (our local Woodstock) and checked out a number of concerts including Blind Faith, Chicago and BS&T.
One of my favorite hang outs was the legendary Sir Pizza in Bronte. It quickly became a gathering spot where all the 60's cultures came together, car guys, bikers, the football and hockey teams, frats and wanna be hippies. Drop in any time of day or evening and you were bound to know someone. That new hangout ultimately had the single largest impact on the direction and future of my life.
The turn of the decade saw the first marriages and kids arriving on the scene and time began to move faster and faster with life more serious and you lost that connection with your high school and the places where you spent so much time and we so important to your life.
Nearly 50 years on, I have been fortunate to continue to live in Bronte, having a full filling career and wonderful family. We have travelled across Canada, the US, Mexico, Central America, Caribbean all of Britain, and nearly every country and major city in Europe.
By 67-68-69 we were still trying to catch up with the American cultural wave. San Francisco had the Haight, New York, Greenwich Village and Washington Square. Toronto had arrived with the birth of Yorkville. In Oakville, the "scene" was shifting to dances at the Pine Room and Kinoak Arena and a youth drop in centre in the old library in downtown Oakville. To this day whenever I hear In A Gadda Da Vida (the really long version), it brings back memories of hanging out on the steps and concerts in the basement on a hot, sultry summer's evening in what is now Tommy Bahamas. There is the memory of a hot humid night in this hangout and a gig by Oakville's pre-eminent band the Sketch. By then the frat jacket, loafers and button down shirts had been traded for bell bottoms and that army surplus jacket purchased at TNT. Many an evening was spent sitting cross legged in Gore Park at the corner of Lakeshore and Bronte Road, listening to music on a transistor radio, trying desperately to look and act like a hippie we saw on tv or in Toronto, and attempting to figure out what to do next.
Bronte, in the larger context of Oakville, was seen as the wrong side of town. It was certainly more working class. The "Bronte Boys" were the one's parents didn't want their daughters to date or their sons to associate with. While they could hold their own in a fight or a party, the reality was most of us had acquired that "christian work ethic". We couldn't afford to tune in and drop out. Most of us had part time jobs while going to school and some times two jobs in the summer. For myself, I worked at Lakeside Marketeria, where I did all jobs in the store with my favourite driving delivery truck. This afforded me freedom to set my own pace, wear my hair long and be out an about with the ability to run into friends.
By the late 60s it was time to make decisions about our futures. Many of my friends left high school early to work at Ford, GE or St. Lawrence Cement, with the lure of money in their pockets and a muscle car to cruise around town.
My last 2 years in high school was more about hanging with friends, playing on the Blakelock hockey team, buying records and attending as many concerts as I could afford. I was fortunate enough to see the Beatles in 66, the Stones in 67 and a wealth of Toronto bands including the Ugly Ducks, the Mandela and Grant Smith and the Power. Dating was glue that held your life together. Some people had steady girl or boy friends and were known as a couple around school, others played the field.
By my last year I was at a loss what to do with my life. I didn't take high school all that seriously in terms of marks, and I was not going to become an Ontario Scholar or valedictorian. I did stumble across a course in Urban Geography where I learned about this thing called town planning. Suddenly, a light bulb turned on that this is what I wanted to do. First it was off to college for honor's diplomas in Urban Planning, the Transportation Planning and Traffic Engineering, then a degree in Urban Geography.
Between 1970 - 73 I continued to live in Bronte but I was away in Brampton and then Hamilton at school, commuting each day and returning at night to work evenings and weekends at Lakeside to pay rent and survive. Interests and priorities shifted and friends slowly changed while others drifted away or moved. I can remember seeing Woodstock at the movies wishing I was there, so 1970 I headed off to Strawberry Fields (our local Woodstock) and checked out a number of concerts including Blind Faith, Chicago and BS&T.
One of my favorite hang outs was the legendary Sir Pizza in Bronte. It quickly became a gathering spot where all the 60's cultures came together, car guys, bikers, the football and hockey teams, frats and wanna be hippies. Drop in any time of day or evening and you were bound to know someone. That new hangout ultimately had the single largest impact on the direction and future of my life.
The turn of the decade saw the first marriages and kids arriving on the scene and time began to move faster and faster with life more serious and you lost that connection with your high school and the places where you spent so much time and we so important to your life.
Nearly 50 years on, I have been fortunate to continue to live in Bronte, having a full filling career and wonderful family. We have travelled across Canada, the US, Mexico, Central America, Caribbean all of Britain, and nearly every country and major city in Europe.
That bigger world on those fuzzy, black and white broadcasts on television in the 60s became real and as magical as I imagined.
Returning the angst over change. There are few interesting quotes. First, "you never can go home" Second, the memories and experiences of the past live on in your friends. Do I want to go back to Centriller, Westbrook or hang out at the Riverside? Not really. It might be fun for a few minutes....but what then. There would be the ghosts of friends I lost, vacant seats of those who have moved away.
Yes the physical environment of Bronte has changed....it doesn't look the same. But if you think back, maybe what we loved about Bronte was first the freedom we had. We didn't have social media. There were friendships, adventures and misadventures. There was new music every week, it was calling on your friends to go play hockey on the creek. Yes there were places to hang out. Some are still there today. You can go to the lake, hike the creek, visit the bluffs, the piers and Bronte Beach. There are bars and restaurants in Bronte you can meet up with friends, they have different names than Sir Pizza, the Root, Crossroads or the Riverside.
What has changed for me. People, as I said earlier, negativity and complaining seems to have replaced road hockey or hanging out at Gore Park as the pass times. People don't know people, they isolate and don't engage in the community. Often we walk through Bronte, on the Pier and people walk by, head down, not engaging or lost in the iPods blasting in their ears. Then there is the ever present cell phone and endless selfies. There is this on going campaign to sanitize everything about Bronte, signs on every poll telling you what you can and can't do and cue the social media posts every weekend about kids, parking, fireworks, outdoor concerts and more.
The generation that is here today is here for some unrealistic image of Oakville/Bronte a magazine lifestyle. As kids they didn't have the freedom we grew up with. They were programmed not on just what to do, but who to do it with. Maybe what we, those who grew up in the 50s, 60s, and 70s is our youth and sense of freedom.
I suggest rather than wishing Bronte back on moaning about the present we take some advice from one of our 60s icons, heroes and reprobates Keith Richards.
"We age not by holding on to youth, but by letting ourselves grow and embracing whatever youthful parts remain"
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