Originally Posted by Only The Lonely..
When life was a beach
Tom Ford
Updated: May 20 at 12:25 AM CDT | Winnipeg Free Press Commentary
For a couple of days, I've been running around looking for things that can't be seen. I wanted to explore the places where our parents and grandparents had fun -- Winnipeg's nightclubs, dance halls, vaudeville houses and the boardwalks of Winnipeg Beach and Grand Beach on Lake Winnipeg, about 80 kilometres north of the city.
Many of the hot spots have been torn down. All that's left are empty spaces, a few plaques and a lot of ghosts.
What got me going on this quixotic adventure was a new book by musician Owen Clark, Musical Ghosts, Manitoba's Jazz and Dance Bands 1914 to 1966 -- a compendium chockablock with facts and old photos.
Clark's book got me revved up because I've long had a theory that some people after the First World War had more fun -- at cheap prices -- than do many people today.
Downtown, for one thing, was crowded with people and colourful shops. Today, Fort Street south of Portage Avenue can be described as nondescript. In the days of the Charleston, the black bottom and the cakewalk, Clark says, Fort was Winnipeg's entertainment row with the Orpheum, (a major vaudeville house), the Victoria live theatre, the Coliseum, Alhambra and Old Fort dance halls, the Silver Slipper nightclub and a hotel.
But the beaches on Lake Winnipeg most clearly illustrate how far we haven't come.
In the good old days a businessperson could jump on a train after work, read the newspaper and, in less than an hour, be sitting on a wicker chair in a screened-in veranda, sipping a martini and savouring the lake breezes.
People didn't have to worry about uncertain lake levels or pollution.
Public transportation was efficient and cheap. One day in 1920, 13 trains brought 13,000 people to Winnipeg Beach, a record for the resort. The Winnipeg Beach run was the most profitable 80 kilometres of CPR tracks in Canada.
Sure, most people worked six days a week and many didn't make much money. But prices were low. At Winnipeg Beach's Empress hotel, which burned down in the 1930s, you could get a salmon sandwich for 10 cents and a sirloin steak for 50 cents in 1915. The four-storey hotel with big balconies boasted electric lights in every room, lawn bowling, tennis courts and a yacht for the use of guests.
And few teenagers whined about having nothing to do at the lake. Winnipeg Beach had a carousel, dodge 'em cars, Mrs. Swallow's Shetland pony rides, and concessions with features such as bows and arrows, air rifles, spicy movies and toy cranes that were supposed to dig up prizes. The 1919 roller-coaster was 300 feet high and had 12 death-defying dips. A ride cost a quarter; subsequent rides were 20 cents.
Or there was the joy of just strutting around on the boardwalk showing off your full beach regalia -- white belt and slacks and two-tone shoes.
Topping it all off were the dance halls at both beach resorts. The 1926 Winnipeg Beach hall had a clear, hardwood maple dance floor and, for a few seasons, Plant's orchestra was suspended above the dancers on a platform. Dances were held six nights a week. The Grand Beach pavilion was one of Canada's largest.
In the dirty '30s, says Clark, one dance cost a nickel or a "jit". After a jit dance, two men with a rope herded the dancers to an exit, while new dancers flooded in behind them.
The CPR's Sir William Whyte picked the site of Winnipeg Beach, the first of the big lake resorts, during a boat ride in 1900. In 1903, after 48 kilometres of track had been built through swamp and bush, the first 500 merrymakers surged into what became "the Coney Island of the north." Later, the CN developed Grand Beach across the lake. Its three-kilometre beach with white, soft sand and big dunes (a remnant of glacial Lake Agassiz) is one of North America's best.
Now the amusements at the beaches are gone. The beaches have become tidy provincial parks. The car, that symbol of individualism, helped kill the old amusement parks and rail lines, just as it did parts of Winnipeg's downtown.
The triumph of individualism means many people can go to their own cottage in their own car and sit alone on their own dock or watch satellite TV. Being part of a community, however, has its joys. There's nothing like a sunny boardwalk jumping with holidayers, the lake air mixed with the smell of spun sugar cones and greasy fries.
And wandering around a train filled with happy campers is a lot more fun than being imprisoned in the back seat of a car with a grumpy sister.
Tom Ford is managing editor of The Issues Network.
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