11/24/02 Copyright RUMBLE ON CLYDESDALE STREET
Chapter 5 “We were never dull”
Going east on Clydesdale from Mr. Beach’s house were more homes, ending at Smith Avenue the cross street before the big Clydesdale hill fell steeply into the flats. The Hanna’s lived on the corner in a nice little newly built white house.
Mr. Hanna Sr. was a tram conductor. Son Bob drove ambulance while he went on to finish his training to become a famous Doctor. The ambulance was parked in front of the house often and it was a sight when he put on the flashing lights and sounded the siren. Bob Hanna gave us turns putting them off and on. For little kids the excitement was extreme. Wet pants followed.
Bob Hanna was to be a very prominent Doctor in British Columbia. Eventually the Hanna’s built a reputed clinic on the corner of Boundary Road and the old Grandview Highway curve that headed eastward to my soon to be discovered Grade School, Schou Street Elementary.
Larry, or Lawrence as we were supposed to call him lived on the east side of Smith Avenue and very close to the big hill. He had older brothers Roddy and Jimmy. They were described as scruffy kids. Not mean, just earthy.
Their mom was a nice lady trying hard to hold a family together during the very difficult times. Larry never really invited me to his house. The house always looked terribly run down. It was shingled brownish red and had old green and white flannel sheets for window covers.
The yard smelled of excessive dog poo more often than not. Where you walked was challenging. Their mom was very nice to all the brother’s friends and offered to share meals with anyone who was hungry. The older brothers in particular would always have friends over. Especially Julius. They were closer in age than the rest of us younger ones.
I really liked Larry. Larry’s dad worked at the Dominion Bridge Works where Bridge Movie Studios now reside near Boundary Road and the Lougheed Highway. There were still a lot of small farms in that area but progress was changing the landscape to Industrial plants.
Larry was a great kid. He always had a smile. His hygiene seemed looking for a bath once and awhile. Sometimes we all did. What a guy!
Larry was one of our most important soldiers that being the kids on the Western zone of Clydesdale Street. His position was at the eastern point of our territory Clydesdale Hill. Nobody fooled with Larry. Nobody.
Larry’s back yard faced north towards Clydesdale Street. From his high back porch he could see the front of the Evan’s Red & White Store as well as houses down along the Clydesdale Hill.
He could clearly see those kids living on and down the hill. We called them Boners. He also could see when the Boners were sneaking up the hill to attack us. Larry would ultimately be our first line and last line of defense.
Larry may not have been a big kid, or anything special other than being a kid. He had one thing no one else had. He had a sling. Oh was he good!
Larry could load a rock and fling it forever. Nobody could hear it drop.
You did not want Larry mad at you. Besides, his house was between the rest of us kids and the way we would eventually have to walk to our elementary school. Everybody liked Larry.
Just below where Larry lived was the house where we were told two sons never returned from the war. The people were very nice but their grief was evident. Larry could look over their yard onto Clydesdale. They were the Hulls. They did not mind our presence around their house.
On my side, the north side of Clydesdale, there were a lot more kids that shared imagination and play- time. There sure were a lot of kids.
There was the Cogswell’s house. Mrs. Cogswell was the self appointed barber for adults and for children where families could afford it. Mrs. Cogswell had two older boys that had recently come back home. We were not told from where. Eventually we found out they had robbed the Evan’s Red & White at the end of the block.
Seemed strange. Living so close, almost next door, the boys obviously easily recognized, even we youngsters found that a bit weird. Like Bonny & Clyde without Bonny, Clydesdale held it’s own infamous yet colorful characters.
Mrs. Oliver had sons Donny and Ernie. She was the cake lady, as kids would call her. She loved to give birthday parties for all the kids and the exciting part was that real nickels were put in the cakes.
Kids would attend anybody’s birthday held at Mrs. Oliver’s knowing that if they were lucky they would end up with a mouth full of nickels. The challenge was not to swallow any. It wasn’t about choking. It was about nickels.
One of the flanking houses did not have kids but did have a man we were almost as terrified of as we were of Old Red. Everyday he would walk the center of Clydesdale westward to the few shops on the corner of Boundary Road and Clydesdale then back to his house. He never said a word.
He always had his dog with him. The dog sometimes carried small packages in his jaws. Many times it was just a newspaper. The dog walked with pride.
The man however carried something else. He carried lots of garter snakes in his pockets. Live squirming garter snakes. He would tie them in loose knots. He would hang them around his neck. Wriggling. Falling to the road. He was plain weird. We kids gave him a wide berth not because we were scared of snakes. We were scared of him. The dog we liked.
An empty lot filled with trees was a source of pleasure. There were thick alder saplings that swayed wildly in the wind. The older boys were better at the pastime than the little ones only because they carried more body weight. Lighter kids filled their pockets with rocks.
The adventure was to climb up as high as one could until the sapling began to bend. Quickly kids would climb some more and as the tree began to really bend, screaming some valued phrase from a super hero, we would ride it all the way down to the ground.
The tree would snap back with some force or simply break. Either way, everyone paid heed to the danger of being whipped by an errant ride returning to an upright position or the breaking pieces flying about. Clydesdale Street held such fury.
The Glider House was next. Three kids lived there. Joey the older boy, Donnie, and then there was their younger sister Francie.
The Dashwoods stood out on our street. Their father had a hobby that was boggling to kids. He flew gliders! We had never seen one before. It was a major event when he brought one home and worked on it in the yard. We could only imagine soaring high, silent like eagles. Wow.
Kids loved the Glider House because not only did they have silent flying machines they had a makeshift swimming pool! This was not a neighbourhood of wealth and to have the makings of any kind of pool was a magnet for all the kids. It was small, actually a cement box half- heartedly sunk in the yard but it served well to beat off summer heat.
Mr. Glider Dad was a shrewd businessman. He would not let us kids into the yard without first paying. It was a tribute of a nickel, some jawbreakers, or gumballs. Never free. He taught us the value of pleasure. It costs.
Joey and Donnie spent a lot of time with the gliders and also had different interests from most of the kids. They were both older. We were too young. Joey was very smart. He also had a monthly subscription to Looney Tunes for their newest comic books. On the bush lot next door he and the older boys built a tree house.
Every month Joey would take the latest edition of Black Hawks, Hop-a-long Cassidy, Superman, and other favorites up into the tree. The smaller kids were invited up when the new editions arrived. Joey would read the picture frames on each page of the comics to all the kids. Waiting for each month’s new comics was something grand. Many kids could not yet read so they also brought some of their own favorites and Joey was happy to read out loud what the writing said. We all liked Joey.
Francie was our age and a real Tom Boy. She was also one highly hyper little red headed girl. It seemed red anyway. Maybe that was her temper.
Our ages together did not make puberty, but we had an innocent passion. How would we have known? This was a time before being politically correct. This was still a time when genetics and natural instincts held court.
Francie and I got into big trouble. We would both jump on the bed standing up holding hands, stripped naked and bounce up and down for long periods of time. Was there a plan or some premeditated mindset? Not at all. It just felt natural. It felt good.
We were sure it was not what our parents would be happy about but we did not know exactly why. The thing we did know for sure is that one day Francie’s mom came in the room and caught us laughing, clutching, grabbing, kissing, bouncing and dancing, all very naked. Opps!
It was a long time after before we were allowed to play together again.
Funny. Life’s special journey comes with twists and turns. A few years after the anniversary of our actual puberty, Francie and I met again in different worlds and actually teen dated, with pretty much the same results. Oh not that, but, emotional charged necking that was down right blood warming. Red I think. I liked Francie a lot. Then our paths abruptly changed again. I never saw her after that.
Many years past to find that all the Dashwood kids grew up well and found great places in their lives. Joey became a successful Hotel owner and Donnie became a very successful Developer and Home Builder in the gulf islands.
Francie? Well sometimes I still wish I knew. Charlie Brown had nothing on this little red haired girl. She was an original. A really fun member of our little band of hell raisers and she never stood down to anybody.
One thing about the kids of Clydesdale Street, we were never dull.
CopyrightRGT
Under the asphalt remains the memories of young children who's time in history leave behind the spirit and energy that made Clydesdale Street special. The chapters herein breathe back life to those lively times when Clydesdale Street ran proud with the bounty of innocence growing up. In memory to the life and times on Clydesdale Street, Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada. Never to be forgotten.
Monday, August 29, 2005
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- Robert (Bobby) Tuss
- Just one of the 'Kids of Clydesdale Street'. The life and times when innocence and wonder filled our days. A reflection on how the generations have changed with time, and more how a little street disappeared resurfacing as a gateway artery to and out of Vancouver British Columbia Canada. Under the asphalt we remain and young dreams, aspirations and passing time mold both our journey and ultimate destiny. Enjoy. Clydesdale Street could be your own street. Anywhere. Your own youth. Your own reality. A great time it was. Kicking stones, make believe, simple pleasures brought happiness and the carefree vision on our world.