Montreal Fifty Years After EXPO 67; Sorry Mayor Drapeau

Fifty years ago this week , Thursday, April 27, 1967 to be precise, was the opening day of Montreal’s EXPO 67 World’s Fair. It was a General Exposition of the first category as decreed by the  Bureau International des Expositions (the first fair of this magnitude ever to be held in North America). The theme was Man and His World; the fair was open until October 29th and welcomed over 50 million visitors from across Canada and around the world. The city was on top of the world.

 It was Montreal at its best. Will new generations of Canadians and Montrealers ever see anything the likes of those days?

Ah nostalgia! That word, the etymology of which is often said to come from the Greek for “a painful yearning to return home” is just about all that remains today of EXPO. However I imagine other Montrealers have felt the pang of pride when overhearing tourists marvelling at Moshe Safdie‘s Habitat 67 which, along with Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic dome are among the few remaining EXPO buildings.  I was seven-years old in the summer of 1967 and spent many days with various family members visiting the numerous pavilions and soaking up the international environment. A half-century later, when I look back, I do so through the eyes of a child.

Habitat 67

Halcyon, salad, glory, or just plain ‘good old’, those days are indelibly etched in my memory. I suspect some of the warm fuzzy feelings of that year’s Summer of Love in the United States made the trek north with the many visitors to the fair.  It was Montreal at its best. Will new generations of Canadians and Montrealers ever see anything the likes of those days?  I fear not.

I cannot deny that I am out-of-step with what appears to be the general consensus of my fellow citizens today. Concerns about costs, noise, corruption, you name it, have exceeded our once prevailing desire to be host to the world. The late Jean Drapeau, who as mayor of Montreal was responsible for both EXPO 67 and the 76 Summer Olympics, planted the roots as he set out to make Montreal the “first city of the 21st century”. Alas financial and political insecurities during the eighties and nineties scuppered the mayor’s dream forever.

… projects of world-class proportions have been relegated to mere memories for most of us. That is a pity, but thankfully many of us of a certain age can think back to those days with pride and reflect on what grand memories they are.

As Canada marks its sesquicentennial this year, which sure does not roll off the tongue like centennial (I can’t imagine there will be too many Sesquicentennial High Schools or Sesquicentennial Bridges named), and Montreal celebrates its 350th anniversary I cannot help but feel saddened that the events planned are not on par with EXPO 67. With our current state of affairs, ranging from an ageing infrastructure to gentrification concerns (investment in neighbourhoods was once seen as a positive thing, if broken shop windows and graffiti are any indication the opposite is now true), projects of world-class proportions have been relegated to mere memories for most of us. That is a pity, but thankfully many of us of a certain age can think back to those days with pride and reflect on what grand memories they are.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Common decency just ain’t all that common anymore

I am slowly coming to the realisation that as I age I may well  be less suitable for community living. Perhaps the time has come to find a nice cave – one with all the amenities I am used to of course – and start living as a hermit. Why am I contemplating this you may well ask, the answer in a word: people.

I can become enraged when an ATM refuses to do what it is supposed to,  but have infinite patience with a teller who cannot find my file.

I am, much like the cartoon character Underdog, mild-mannered by nature. In fact it would be fair to say that I don’t do anger well, unless it is aimed at an inanimate object. Anger consumes me, eats me up, encroaches on my every thought. I can become enraged when an ATM refuses to do what it is supposed to,  but have infinite patience with a teller who cannot find my file.

However, recently I have found myself, on two occasions, being faced with the possibility of losing it. On Palm Sunday it was a lovely warm sunny day in Montreal. My wife and I decided to drop by a downtown pub we frequent for a bite of brunch. As I drove up the street looking for an elusive Montreal parking spot I noticed a free one immediately across the street from our destination. When I say the spot was free, I mean there was no car there. Mind you there was a man standing right smack in the middle of it while talking on his phone.

Sarasota, Florida

We approached the man, my wife opened her window as he was on that side, and politely asked him to move aside so we could park. He ignored her. She tried again and he told her he was keeping the spot for his wife. Oh no Sunshine, that’s not how it works. Humans do not ‘hold’ parking spaces for cars. No car, no parking spot. Overhearing him talking allegedly with his wife on the phone in Spanish, my wife was able to discern that her arrival was anything but imminent.

My wife then spoke to the man in Spanish, explained that it is not acceptable to tie up a parking spot in this manner. The guy claimed that once his wife arrived they would have a car to put in the spot. I pointed out that I had both a car and a wife already in position which to my way of thinking gave me priority. Perhaps he was from a parallel universe in which the human-holds-parking-spot method is the norm, but not here.

By now his arrogance was annoying me big time, a not so slow fry, so I decide to just back into the parking spot, thereby forcing him to the sidewalk or running him over – the latter option was becoming increasingly more appealing as the incident progressed. Finally he moved and we parked, but not before some choice words were slung in both directions. And it had started out as such a lovely day.

Fast forward to last evening. While my wife waited in the car while I ran to the supermarket to pick up three items. It was about 5:30 and the store was jam-packed with shoppers. I beetled about, got my items and headed for the express, 8 items or less check-out.  There are two such check-outs, but for some reason, at the busiest time of the say, one was closed.

Now I have this theory that no retail outlet should ever have closed cashes when there are lines at open ones.

Now I have this theory that no retail outlet should ever have closed cashes when there are lines at open ones. It defies logic and is just plain bat customer relations; paying your inflated prices is bad enough, waiting in line to do so is over the top.

While waiting at cash two, and having determined that there was no one ahead of me with more than the limit of eight items – yep, I’ll rat you out quick as look at you – a voice was heard to say “cash one is open”. At last. I make a bee-line from the line at cash two to the newly opened cash one only to have this asshole elbow in front of me and knock my items to the floor! Did he offer to help? No. Did he apologize? Only after I pointed out his ignorance. At which point he accused me of trying to jump the line. Evidently he seemed to have come from yet another parallel universe where one’s position in line at one cash dictates their priority at a newly opened second cash.

Sorry, it just doesn’t work that way.

Newly opened check-outs are virgin territory. It makes no matter if you were 846th in one line, once that new cash opens it’s every man woman and child for himself. But it is a race, not a wrestling match. Knocking a person’s groceries from their grip isn’t cricket.

Until we can live in harmony I wonder if it may be time for Underdog to head for the hills?

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

 

Madison Round Garden?

I have always liked the fact that the building is called Madison Square Garden, but it is clearly round!

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Postal Art and the Hope Diamond

Here’s an example of my Great Uncles’ correspondence during the early 1900s. The envelope below was posted at 2:15 pm on March 9, 1903 from London. It was from Matthew Deegan, aged 21 at the time, and addressed to his brother Ernest Deegan c/o Lord Francis Hope. Does that name sound familiar? Think diamond!

 

Hope_Diamond
Hope Diamond

According to Wikipedia, Henry Francis Hope Pelham-Clinton-Hope, 8th Duke of Newcastle-under-Lyne (3 February 1866 – 20 April 1941) was an English nobleman. He was educated at Eton College and Trinity Hall, Cambridge. He inherited the estate of his grandmother, Anne Adele Hope (widow of Henry Thomas Hope) in 1884, upon condition that he assume the name and arms of Hope upon reaching his majority; he did so in 1887 and became known as Lord Francis Hope.This bequest included the well-known Hope Diamond. He was Sheriff of Monaghan for 1897 and 1917.

Lord_Hope
Lord Francis Hope

He married American actress May Yohé in November 1894. She had gained fame on the London stage in 1893 and 1894, especially in the burlesque Little Christopher Columbus. He led an extravagant lifestyle, which the two continued together, and was discharged in bankruptcy in 1896. One journal wrote: “Pecuniary troubles, however, embarrassed the two but slightly. A future Duke and Duchess can always beg or borrow, and they did.

In 1900 they made a tour of the world, and on their way home fell in with Captain [Putnam] Bradlee Strong, at that time one of the handsomest and most popular men in the United States Army, and a special favourite with President McKinley. The actress fell head over ears in love with him. She refused to return to England with Lord Francis”. Hope divorced Yohé in 1902; at this time, he obtained court permission to sell off the Hope Diamond to pay some of his debts. After lengthy litigation in the Court of Chancery, he was able to break the entail on most of his grandmother’s trusts, and sold off The Deepdene in Surrey and Castleblayney in County Monaghan, Ireland.

Hope_BankruptLord Francis married Olive Muriel Owen, née Thompson, in 1904. They had 3 children:

  • Henry Edward Hugh Pelham-Clinton-Hope, 9th Duke of Newcastle-under-Lyne (1907–1988)
  • Lady Doria Lois Pelham-Clinton-Hope (1908–1942)
  • Lady Mary Pelham-Clinton-Hope (1910–1982)

He inherited the dukedom from his brother in 1928 and died in 1941 at Clumber Park.

If only my great Uncle had traded these cool postal art envelopes for that diamond … then again I understand it brings bad luck. Better to have the envelopes!

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

There’s got to be something Anthony Bourdain does not like

I enjoy watching Anthony Bourdain on CNN. His travel/food show is well done and he is a fine host. His sense of humour is subtle and witty, and his appreciation of fine food is second to none.

He is the opposite of Mikey in the old Life cereal advertisement who does not like anything (except of course Life).

He travels the world for his Parts Unknown series bringing interesting and exotic locations to the homes of everyday folks. While on his treks around the world he mixes with the locals and has no qualms about trying absolutely any food that may be presented to him. He is the opposite of Mikey in the old Life cereal advertisement who does not like anything (except of course Life).

The problem, I find, is that this detracts from his persona inasmuch as no matter what he eats, he always finds it wonderful, exquisite, superb. But – you knew that was coming – just once I would like to see an episode in which he tries a local delicacy and blurts out “Sweet jumping Jesus, that tastes Christ awful!”.

… just once I would like to see an episode in which he tries a local delicacy and blurts out “Sweet jumping Jesus, that tastes Christ awful!”.

Sooner or later,if only to give credence to the authenticity of Bourdain’s culinary acumen, they have got to air a show where he tries something that really goes against the grain. The show, and the host, would grow in my opinion if he were to bite into something, grimace, break out in a cold sweat, turn away from the camera and spit. Then, being the quintessential host, turn back to the camera and state unabashedly “Wombat testicles in a canary sauce seem to be an acquired taste”. Just once. I know I would be a fan for life. Although I do feel a little like the old Happy Days character Ralph Malph who would write in asking a particular TV program to feature a human sacrifice!

Instead he continues to globe-trot and eat whatever is put in front of him then rave about it. But one of these days …

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Rolling Rock©: The Official Beer of Easter Morning

Stone

Happy Easter!

 

 

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Cocker Spaniel’s take on Pit Bull Ban

Quebec has introduced a law that would see ‘dangerous’ dogs banned.

“In addition to strictly regulating dangerous dogs … (the bill) allows the government to ban, by decree, certain breeds,” said Public Security Minister Martin Coiteux. “The government is intent on banning pit bull type dogs.”

No wonder they are a bit cranky.

I have been privileged to interview a Pit bull regarding this law. Today I received the statement below from him; he told me a Cocker spaniel had sent it to him. Clearly the spaniel is an admirer of Martin Niemöller.

First they came for the Pit bulls, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Pit bull.

Then they came for the Boxers, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Boxer.

Then they came for the Doberman pinschers, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Doberman pinscher.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+