Loss of a Main Street Newspaper Office - So Who Cares?

THE LOSS OF A MAIN STREET NEWSPAPER OFFICE - SO WHO CARES?

I'VE LIVED THROUGH A LOT OF CHANGES. WHERE IS THE MILK MAN, THE BREAD MAN, THE KNIFE SHARPENER?

     MY GOOD WIFE, HAS JUST REMINDED ME, FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME THIS MONTH, THAT I'VE BEEN A PART OF THIS MORTAL COIL, LONG ENOUGH TO APPRECIATE, THAT THE PROGRESS OF MANKIND DOESN'T WISH MY INPUT. MY MONEY. I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH OF IT TO MATTER, REALLY, UNLESS YOU OPERATE A COFFEE SHOP WHERE I GET MY BEVERAGES, THE BAKERY THAT SUPPLIES THOSE LOVELY CHELSEAS, OR THE GROCERY STORE, THAT GETS LESS AND LESS OF OUR FOLDING MONEY THESE DAYS, AS WE EAT MUCH LESS MEAT. I NEVER KNEW IT WAS SO REASONABLE TO BE A VEGETARIAN.

     WHEN I WAS A KID, IN BURLINGTON, ONTARIO, I WATCHED HOURLY, FOR THE ARRIVAL OF "THE BREAD MAN," "THE MILK MAN," "THE GOODIE TRUCK," "THE KNIFE SHARPENER," ON HIS BIKE WITH ATTACHED WORKSHOP, AND THE DRIVERS WHO WORKED FOR BOTH SIMPSONS AND EATONS. THE BREAD MAN HAD BOTH RAISAN BREAD AND ON OCCASION, DONUTS. MERLE DIDN'T HAVE MUCH MONEY TO SPARE, BUT ONCE OR TWICE A MONTH, WE WERE ABLE TO BUY MORE THAN JUST A LOAF OF WHITE BREAD. SAME WITH THE MILK MAN. MY TREAT WAS CHOCOLATE MILK, AND MY DAD'S WAS BUTTER MILK. HE WOULD DRINK THIS THICK, LUMPY CONCOCTION ON THE HOTEST DAYS OF THE SUMMER. I WOULD HAVE DRAINED A WHOLE CARTON OF CHOCOLATE MILK ON MY CEREAL, IF MERLE HAD LEFT ME ALONE IN THE KITCHEN. AND BECAUSE WE LIVED IN THE NAGY APARTMENTS, UP ON HARRIS CRESCENT, I GOT A CHANCE TO GET UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL TO THE DELIVERY TRUCKS FROM EATONS AND SIMPSONS,  (SNEAKING INTO THE BACK OF THEIR OPEN TRUCKS) AND ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS, MERLE WOULD GET A PARCEL OF SWEATERS SHE ORDERED, A SHIRT OR TWO FOR ED, AND MAYBE EVEN SOME PANTS FOR ME. I WENT THROUGH A PAIR A WEEK BACK THEN. ALWAYS TORN OPEN AT THE KNEES.

   AS FAR AS THE KNIFE SHARPENER, HE WAS A FASCINATING OLDER CHAP, WITH A PEAK CAP; BUT LET ME TELL YOU, I REALLY LOVED LISTENING, AS HE TOLD THE NEIGHBORHOOD KIDS, EXCITING AND PLEASANTLY EMBELLISHED STORIES ABOUT HIS TRAVELS AROUND THE AREA, ON HIS STRANGELY MODIFIED BIKE. HIS FACE WAS WEATHERED LIKE THE PALM OF A WELL USED BASEBALL GLOVE, AS WAS THE "GOODIE MAN", BECAUSE HE TOOK A LOT OF SUNLIGHT IN THE FACE, THROUGH HIS OPEN SIDE WINDOW.  BUT BECAUSE OUR FAMILY WAS BROKE MOST OF THE TIME, I HAD TO TAKE A PASS AT LEAST HALF THE TIME, WHEN I HEARD THOSE MUSICAL BELLS COMING UP TORRANCE, FROM THE LAKESHORE. MERLE LEARNED TO LIVE WITH DULL KNIVES. WE ATE MACARONI A LOT.

     LIKE YOU, I'VE WATCHED A LOT OF TRADITIONS AND POINTS OF INTEREST DISAPPEAR, OVER THE DECADES. SOME CHANGES WERE PROGRESSIVE, NECESSARY, AND WHAT MY MOTHER USED TO SAY WAS "INEVITABLE" WHEN SHE DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF OTHER INFORMATION TO BASE AN OPINION. I CAN EVEN REMEMBER HER USING THAT AS A RETORT, WHEN A SCHOOL CHUM WAS ACCIDENTALLY HIT BY A CAR, AND WE HAD TO BRING DOWN OUR "ELMER THE SAFETY ELEPHANT" FLAG. I DIDN'T LIKE ELMER, AFTER THIS EVENT, BECAUSE OF THE FLAG REMOVAL THING, WHICH I THOUGHT WAS PRETTY CRUEL TO THE KID WHO HAD BEEN WEARING A CAR BUMPER ON THE LEFT CHEEK OF HIS BEHIND. WHAT DIDN'T ELMER UNDERSTAND ABOUT "ACCIDENT." MAYBE IT WAS THE DRIVER'S FAULT, ELMER! HOW ABOUT IT?  "IT WAS INEVITABLE TIMMY WAS GOING TO GET HIT BY A CAR," MERLE TOLD ME. "HE IS A CARELESS KID….IT WAS INEVITABLE."

    AND OTHER CHANGES AND ALTERATIONS TO THE SOCIAL / CULTURAL / ECONOMIC LANDSCAPE, WERE JUST THE SIGN OF THE TIMES, THAT IT WAS NO LONGER PROFITABLE TO DO ANYTHING DOOR TO DOOR, OR HOUSE TO HOUSE. MAYBE I WILL STILL BE ALIVE WHEN MAIL DELIVERY, EVEN IN CITIES IS ELIMINATED, TO SAVE THE POST OFFICE MONEY. AND WHEN I THINK ABOUT MY OWN LADS, NOW IN THEIR MID TWENTIES, I CAN RECALL HOW MUCH FUN WE HAD VISITING CERTAIN RESTAURANTS, FOR EXAMPLE; ONE BEING THE SHORT-LIVED BUT NOSTALGIC "FRASER'S FABULOUS FIFTIES," RESTAURANT, ON MUSKOKA ROAD HERE IN GRAVENHURST BACK IN THE EARLY 1990'S. THEY USED TO BE ABLE TO GO TO SLOANS AND HAVE BLUEBERRY PIE AND ICE CREAM, WHILE STARING UP LONGINGLY AT THE ART WORK OF GRAVENHURST ARTIST FRANK JOHNSTON; WORK WHICH DEPICTED THE OLD DAYS OF STEAMSHIPS AND STEAM LOCOMOTIVES AT THE FORMER MUSKOKA WHARF. GONE. THE RESTAURANT CHANGED HANDS MULTIPLE TIMES, AND THE PIE JUST WASN'T THERE AS WE ONCE REMEMBERED IT. IN FACT, THEN, WE USED TO DRIVE ALL THE WAY UP TO THE PORTAGE STORE, ON CANOE LAKE, IN ALGONQUIN PARK, JUST TO HAVE THEIR BLUEBERRY PIE. WHICH WAS WELL WORTH THE DRIVE. OF COURSE IT USED TO BE AN EXCUSE TO STRAP THE CANOE ON THE VAN, AND PADDLE THE LAKES.

     STUFF CHANGES. I'M AN ANTIQUE DEALER. IF IT DIDN'T CHANGE, I WOULDN'T HAVE A BUSINESS. IT'S KIND OF IMPORTANT THAT PROGRESS MAKES ITS IMPRINT, AND SO MANY CHANGES ARE FOR THE BETTER. SOME, WELL, THAT'S UP TO THE GENERAL POPULATION TO DETERMINE. AS FOR ME, WHEN I REALIZED, THAT OUR MAIN STREET NEWSPAPER OFFICE WAS GONE, AND IN FACT "FOR SALE," I THOUGHT ABOUT HOW PROGRESS CAN ALSO SUCK, AT THE SAME TIME; AS WE ARE BEING INFORMED EVERYTHING WILL BE MUCH IMPROVED WITH AN EXCITING NEW PLAN.  THE WEEKLY PAPER HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM ITS MAIN TRADITIONAL PLACE ON THE MAIN STREET, PUBLISHED ON A DIFFERENT DAY, AND MADE INTO AN INSERT INSTEAD, PART OF BIGGER UNION (BUNDLE) OF PRINTED PAPER, A DAY LATER THAN WE HAVE BEEN USED TO FOR MANY, MANY DECADES. WHAT DON'T THESE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND ABOUT SMALL TOWN TRADITIONS? DON'T THEY HAVE TRADITIONS IN THE CITY?

WHAT'S WRONG WITH AN OVERHAUL OF TRADITION

     As I have dredged up, for time and memoriam, I used to work in an historic newspaper office, on Bracebridge's Dominion Street. It was right next to the town hall. To get to Manitoba Street, we walked through the adjacent parking lot, down Chancery Lane, and bingo-bango, we were in the centre of the urban community. Within a few steps, with a little hop for good measure, we could buy an engagement ring for our sweethearts, get some binder paper refills, some licorice, a hot sandwich to go, a new coat, shoes, yarn, hammer and nails, even some two by fours, to go along with the saw we got at the other hardware store. We didn't know we were in commercial heaven, but by golly, that's exactly where we were. In the urban mix of things. In the heart of the place we called our hometown. And we were writing the weekly news. All this stuff, and all these connections, were part of our lives. Not as cliche. Truly, everything on our beat, was everything to us. We were the managers of the small town community press.

     I was never, ever, ever, not once, influenced by the fact our publication had newspaper awards hanging all over the place. I preferred the pictures of old Bracebridge, that had been hung in the lobby by the Boyer family, founders of The Herald-Gazette, and when I had the chance, I'd take the certificates down, hide them, and re-hang the vintage photographs…..which were more suitable to the character of that old time office. I let the readership tell me how well we were doing as a newspaper. I didn't need to receive an award to be able to judge my editorship or the competence of our staff reporters' work…….as the circulation numbers and letters to the editor let me know where we stood. We'd find out from readers attending church, for gosh sakes, when they ran into our management at Sunday worship, and we heard about it on Monday mornings. But you know, wherever we heard criticism or approval for something we had published, we were being an active part of the dynamic of not only freedom of the press, but the very real mirror of community reflection. While we didn't cater to readers, or remove stories to keep them happy, we did have to find compromises all the time, to respect freedom of the press, and of course, the public's right to know. The nicest compliment we'd get each week, was watching folks come into the Dominion Street office, plunking down their subscription form and payment, and tucking that week's paper under their arm, and heading up the street content with the axis of the world on that day. I used to get a kick, back then, out of watching the citizens, carrying our papers from the post office and mail boxes. I'd try to see what the local Reverend or the Town Mayor, were reading….because we did have competition in those days. We reporters, were so high on our publication, that we would tidy up the newspaper stands in local grocery stores, when we did our weekly shopping. I don't minimize this whatsoever; the paper was our pride and joy, and we worked hard to get the best circulation numbers possible.

    We were three blocks from the arena, half a block from the Post Office and the Library. We could hear the bell in the town clock tower, even when we were on the phone, or in the middle of a heated debate, during staff meetings. When the town fire brigade went out on a call, we were close enough to activate, behind the wheels of our cars, before the volunteers had arrived at the adjacent hall. We had a parade of citizens visit us at The Herald-Gazette office, every day we were open. We were closed on Saturday and Sundays. Bob Boyer had wanted it this way. When the receptionist, and her back-up clerical staff were on lunch, reporters often had to cover the front desk. For ten years folks, I witnessed the importance of having a main street office. I saw what old time values, traditions, the "same old, same old," meant to citizens and newspaper subscribers, who wanted to visit our office, to renew their paper for another year, place a classified advertisement, buy a single copy, or pick up one of the free copies of The Muskoka Sun, our seasonal publication, put out by Robert Boyer, one of Muskoka's best known historians. Folks might come in to buy one of our Herald-Gazette produced regional histories, which we kept piled under the front counter. I sold lots of Boyer family produced books, including "A Good Town Grew Here," by Bob, circa 1975, an earlier Muskoka history by his father George, in the early 1970's, and George's wife (Bob's mother) Victoria, who produced a popular book, in 1975, profiling the most historic houses of Bracebridge. There were many more books, including one by Bob's wife Patsy, on the recollections of the town, as she remembered from childhood. This was not a job in the traditional sense, for an historical apprentice like me. It was the best of my most hopeful professional wishes. Here I was, a fellow toting an-ink-still-wet degree, in Canadian history, happily working as an editor, a printer's assistant, a front desk and book store clerk, being tutored by Robert J. Boyer himself, finding myself daily, working in one of the most historic buildings in town. I might hear the door open, on one of those interesting days, and look up, to, at that moment, greet former Ontario Premier Frank Miller, or Bracebridge Mayor, Jim Lang, or lots of other significant citizens, we always wanted to interview. Community history was being made in this office every week it was in operation.

     There are financial decisions made, for the efficiencies of the modern era, I do very much understand as a business owner myself. The problem is that many decisions that ultimately affect us, as a small town population, occur around board tables a considerable distance, away from the area to be most impacted. If they had asked me, with my pretty fair understanding of the social, cultural history of Muskoka, I would have told them that moving the traditional weekly newspapers from the business centers of our towns, would be a heartbreak for a lot of still  living traditionalists……who believed, as their families before them, that every major town should have its own newspaper……and it should be in a convenient location, to accommodate those who would like to drop in…..just for a visit, on a casual walk downtown. There are those who, when reading this, will get spitting mad, because it suggests that progress of this nature, is detrimental. It is in fact, a situation that is getting a lot of comment, on the streets, and not just because I write a blog, about how naked I feel, having just had our weekly newspaper routine altered. We weren't really given much of a chance to appeal the publisher's decision. It was foisted upon us, as a sign of efficiency and progress, and the newspaper combo, is now delivered a large pink, plastic sack in our driveways etc. Yet they've missed the point of small town traditions, and why it was important to us as a community, (and for each of our towns), to have that familiar newspaper office we used to know. It was a landmark to some. A small but enduring sign that if we are big enough, and prosperous enough, to have a newspaper, we were a community on the move. Exciting things must happen here. It's like a lighthouse in the context of newspapers. I once worked for The Muskoka Lakes-Georgian Bay Beacon…..so I have lots of "Beacon" and guiding light analogies when it comes to community newspapers.

     While it's absolutely true economics trumps everything these days, even if we haven't got a clue about the deciding numbers, there are some steadfast citizens amongst us, who will never let this withdrawal of a main street newspaper office die……and it's what works for us, if we can't change opinions any other way…….we will complain about it for the next century, in street talk, coffee shop banter, arena small talk, or when meeting in the park; or until we get another main street newspaper office to fill the void. But it was wrong, in my opinion, to have avoided letting us know, as a readership, what the plans were, as far back as several years, when the office was only open part-time, and then, most certainly when the office here was hollowed-out, and soon after, listed for sale. In a small town way of thinking, of course we feel slighted?  Many look at it as city influences at work. While they can re-boot their publications, to their specifications, they can't dictate how we're going to feel, now and in the future, knowing that one of the oldest traditions dating back to the pioneers, was removed as a matter of fact……a matter of a business decision. It's not like we're so vulnerable, and pathetic here, that we insist the free market never adjust its business plans, to suit the prevailing economic conditions. We've lost a lot of iconic local landmarks and enterprises, we thought could never end…..ever be replaced. We even have a half empty historic train station, that bothers a lot of loyalists, but these folks have simply given up writing letters of protest to town hall. We just expect that small community traditions, will be respected……and upheld, and yes, through hell and high water. Sometimes, we just have to live with our disappointments, and adjust. As Merle started telling me fifty years ago, "Some things are just inevitable." How right she was. But not profoundly so. So we will grumble and complain about this change in our neighborhoods of Muskoka, and I expect one day, another company will show up, and want to claim us as their readership. We will have a few points to make first. The directive will begin something like, "If you want our support……..there are a few things you need to know."

     I asked earlier this year, if any one had a loose million dollars kicking around, who would also be interested in opening up a throw-back newspaper, with a nostalgic main street office…..and needing the experience of an old time editor, who never grows tired of shaking hands, and meeting customers while leading halfway across a counter-top, as the business of the day. It was what I loved about the newspaper business, back in the late 1970's, and 80's, and why I feel so bad, about the fact we have lost this tradition…..with barely a murmur.

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