Frank Johnston Loved The Painting Opportunities Afforded By Muskoka

Late 1960's Early 1970's Depiction of Manitoba Street in Bracebridge looking south down the Queen's Hill. The brick building second on the left was the former Queen's Hotel, but in this vintage it was The Patterson Hotel, owned by Fenton Patterson.

Two close ups of the same Frank Johnston painting, this one showing the intersection of Manitoba Street and Dominion Street and the artist would have captured this image from the front of the former Uptown Esso Station owned by Ted Smith.

MUSKOKA ARTIST, FRANK JOHNSTON, CAPTURED OUR HERITAGE CHARACTER, BUT WE DIDN'T APPRECIATE HIS ACCOMPLISHMENTS

WHAT HE SAW THAT WE TOOK FOR GRANTED ABOUT OUR HOME COMMUNITIES

     THE OPEN ROAD BECKONED THIS AFTERNOON. AS WE CONSIDER OURSELVES PART VAGABOND ANYWAY, IT'S HARD TO RESIST AN OPPORTUNITY TO TRAVEL AND ANTIQUE HUNT. WE SET OUT ON THIS BECKONING RIBBON OF TARMAC, AND THANK GOODNESS WE DID. ANDREW PICKED UP A BRASS BUGLE, A 1950'S MANDOLIN, AND A VINTAGE GUITAR ALTHOUGH I NEVER SAW THAT ONE, BEFORE IT WAS PUT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN. THERE WAS A SPECIAL MUSIC PRESENTATION ON CBC II THIS AFTERNOON, FEATURING ACADIAN MUSIC, SO ANDREW PROVIDED A LITTLE IN-TRANSIT MANDOLIN, TO GO WITH THE BROADCAST. WE PICKED UP SOME NEAT ADVERTISING TINS, AND VINTAGE VINYL, TO MEET SON ROBERT'S INTERESTS, AND SUZANNE FOUND A NICE RELIC OF CANADIAN COOKERY HERITAGE, WRITTEN NEATLY INTO A GOOD CONDITION BOOKLET. WE HAVEN'T DETERMINED THE VINTAGE YET, BUT WE WILL PROFILE THIS IN TOMORROW'S BLOG. THIS WILL GO INTO OUR COOKERY ARCHIVES, AT OUR SHOP, WHICH WE USE TO ASSIST FOLKS, FIND EVASIVE RECIPES FROM DECADES AND CENTURIES PAST.

     I JUST FREED-UP SUZANNE'S FAVORITE FAN RAKE, THAT I HAD BEEN USING, WITH AN EXTENDED HANDLE, TO PULL SNOW OFF THE ROOF THIS WINTER. I HAD IT DUCT TAPED TOGETHER, AND BY GOLLY, IT WAS ABOUT FOURTEEN FEET LONG. IT HAD A WICKED BOW TO IT, BUT IT CERTAINLY HELPED REDUCE THE SNOW LOAD, WITHOUT NECESSITATING ME GETTING UP ON THE ROOF. SO SUZANNE IS HAPPILY RAKING UP LAST AUTUMN'S LEAVES, AT LEAST THE ONES THAT DIDN'T BLOW OVER TO THE NEIGHBORS. I GET THEIR GARBAGE, WHEN THE CROWS TEAR OPEN THE BAGS BEFORE THEY'RE PICKED UP, AND IN RETURN, THEY GET MY LEAVES. DEPENDING ON WHICH WAY THE WIND IS BLOWING, OF COURSE, IS THE NEIGHBOR PENALIZED. SUZANNE FINDS RAKING UP THE YARD GOOD EXERCISE, AND THE KIND OF MINDLESS RECREATION, THAT EASES HER FRUSTRATIONS. YOU SEE, FOR EVERY AGGRESSIVE STROKE SHE APPLIES TO MOTHER EARTH, SHE IS EXPRESSING HER CHAGRIN ABOUT HAVING A HUSBAND, WHO WOULD RATHER PLAY ON HIS LAPTOP, THAN JOIN HER FOR YARD DETAIL. I TOLD HER THAT I DID THE DRIVING SOUTH TODAY, MADE MOST OF THE GOOD FINDS FOR OUR SHOP, AND THAT WARRANTS ME TAKING A VERANDAH BREAK NOW TO ENJOY THE REST OF THIS SUNDAY AFTERNOON. SHE MOUTHS OUT THE WORDS, BECAUSE I AM LOOKING RIGHT AT HER, AND NONE OF IT CAN BE PUBLISHED. OF ALL THE CHORES AROUND HERE, I PUT RAKING WELL BELOW CLEANING THE LITTER BOXES. WE HAVE TWO, AND THESE ARE MY RESPONSIBILITY, EVEN THOUGH THE CATS THEMSELVES, BELONG TO HER. FUNNY HOW THAT WORKS.

     SOMEONE HAS A STEAK SMOKING IN ALL ITS GLORY, ON THE GRILL, AND IT'S MAKING ME WILD WITH HUNGER. WE CAN'T AFFORD MEAT ANY MORE, SO I SATISFY MYSELF WITH THE AROMA, WAFTING BY THE VERANDAH. IT'S FREE AND I DON'T INTAKE ANY CALORIES. IT'S WINDY WITH A CHILL HERE, OUT OF THE SUN, AND I CAN HEAR HEAVIER THRUSTS OF WIND RISING UP OVER THE WOODED HILLSIDE OF THE BOG, OFF MUSKOKA BAY. WE LOST QUITE A FEW TREES, AND HUNDREDS OF BRANCHES, IN THE BOG, OVER THE PAST WINTER, TO MATCH WHAT HAPPENED IN LAST SUMMER'S BIG STORM. WE HAVE QUITE A FEW POPLARS AND THEIR LIFESPAN ISN'T MUCH MORE THAN TWENTY-FIVE TO THIRTY YEARS. SO IT'S NOT A HUGE LOSS TO SEE THEM TOPPLED, BECAUSE MORE ARE GROWING BESIDE. IT'S BLOODY NICE TO SEE THE SUN TODAY. IT'S NOT REALLY MAY WEATHER, BUT JUST THE FACT I CAN SIT OUTSIDE FOR A WEE BIT, IS BETTER THAN SITTING BY THE HEARTH, TRYING TO STAY WARM. AND IT'S GOOD TO HEAR THE VOICES OF CHILDREN AT PLAY AGAIN, IN NEARBY BACKYARDS; AND TEN SECONDS AGO, SEVERAL DUCKS WHEN QUACKING-BY, ON THE WAY TO OPEN WATER SOMEWHERE IN THE BOG. WE'VE HAD GEESE SETTLING IN THE LOWLAND ALL THIS WEEK. QUITE A FEW DEER POKING ABOUT AS WELL. I'VE SEEN TWO WOODPECKERS IN THE PAST TWENTY MINUTES, A VENERABLE OLD CROW WITH A RAKE. I MEAN AN OLD CROW PERCHED ON MAPLE A BOUGH. (I GET GIDDY WATCHING OTHER PEOPLE WORK).

     SHE CALLS ME A MAN OF LEISURE. I PROBABLY SHOULD BE INSULTED BUT AT THIS MOMENT, WELL, IT'S TRUE. SUZANNE HAS NEVER THOUGHT OF WRITING AS WORK. IT'S ASSUMED THAT MY AMBITION TO CREATE STORIES, IS FAR MORE RECREATIONAL THAN PROFITABLE, IN OH SO MANY WAYS. I THINK SHE TAKES MY WORK SERIOUSLY, BUT JUST NOT THE PART ABOUT IT BEING DIFFICULT TO THINK UP, AND TAP, EVER SO LIGHTLY ONTO THIS SCREEN. I PROMISE HER THAT WHEN I WIN THE PULITZER, ANY YEAR NOW, I WILL GIVE IT TO HER, AS A GIFT OF THANKS, FOR HAVING GIVEN ME ALL THIS FREE TIME, TO PLAY AT MY ART-FORM. OF COURSE, SHE MAKES NO COMMENT, ON THE DOZEN OCCASIONS EACH MONTH, I MAKE THIS HOLLOW PROMISE. SHE JUST NODS AND WINKS, AND GETS ON WITH HER WORK. "WRITERS ARE ARE ALWAYS MISUNDERSTOOD," I YELL OUT TO HER. "YOU'LL SEE, ONE DAY, WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN," (TO BORROW A LINE FROM THE BOOK, "A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN." SUZANNE SMILES, AND CONCLUDES, "MAYBE OUR SHIPS WILL COME IN TOGETHER." I'M MOVING ON TO ANOTHER SUBJECT, AFTER A STATEMENT LIKE THAT, FOR GOSH SAKES.

    

     SEEING AS I WRITE A GREAT DEAL ABOUT MUSKOKA PAST AND PRESENT, AND PROMOTE THE RURAL LIFESTYLE CONSTANTLY (WITH NO REGRETS), IT'S TO BE EXPECTED I WILL ALSO RECEIVE QUITE A NUMBER OF QUESTIONS REGARDING MY BIAS; AS TO WHY I CONSIDER THE DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA, AS THE BEST PLACE ON EARTH TO RESIDE. SOME OF THE QUESTIONS ARE FROM THOSE WHO ARE SERIOUSLY CONTEMPLATING A FUTURE MOVE NORTH, AND WONDER WHICH OF THE MUSKOKA TOWNSHIPS WOULD BE BETTER TO CALL HOME. OTHERS, WHO LIVE IN BEAUTIFUL AREAS THEMSELVES, ACCUSE ME OF BEING A SHILL FOR THE REGIONAL TOURISM MARKETING AGENCY, OR THE LOCAL CHAMBERS OF COMMERCE. ON THAT NOTE, I HAVE NEVER SURRENDERED MY INDEPENDENCE, SINCE I LEFT EMPLOYMENT WITH THE LOCAL MEDIA, WHICH GOES BACK TO THE SUMMER OF 1990. WHILE I STILL CONTRIBUTE TO SEVERAL PUBLICATIONS, I AM NOT ON THEIR PAYROLL. SO BELIEVE ME, I AM NOT MAKING MONEY, BY PROMOTING THE GOOD GRACES OF MUSKOKA. IT JUST HAPPENS TO BE WHAT I BELIEVE IN, AND HAVE, SINCE I MOVED TO THIS REGION IN THE MID 1960'S. I OWE A TREMENDOUS DEBT OF GRATITUDE TO MUSKOKA, AND I CAN NOT FORESEE A TIME, AS LONG AS I CAN WRITE, OR SPEAK PUBLICLY, THAT I WON'T BOAST ABOUT ITS ATTRIBUTES WITH UNYIELDING EXCITEMENT; DESIRING THAT MANY MORE FOLKS WILL ACCEPT THE REGION AS I HAVE, AS A KIND HOST AND NATURAL MENTOR.

     FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE IN MUSKOKA, AND WHY I WOULD RECOMMEND IT, FIRST OF ALL, I DON'T DWELL ON THE INTRICASIES OF THE LOCAL ECONOMY. A SEASONAL ECONOMY IS SOMETHING YOU HAVE TO THINK ABOUT, BEFORE BECOMING IMMERSED IN ITS COMPLEXITIES. WHEN YOU LIVE HERE FOR A COUPLE OF DECADES, YOU FIGURE OUT THE HIGHS AND LOWS, AND INVEST ACCORDINGLY. SIMPLY STATED, YOU ADJUST EXPECTATIONS, AND DEAL WITH THE "FEAST OR FAMINE" REALITIES OF BEING IMPLANTED IN A TOURISM INDUSTRY REGION. THE ONLY CHARACTERISTIC I'M WILLING TO DISCUSS, AND DEBATE, IF NECESSARY, IS HOW THIS DISTRICT HAS CONTINUED TO INSPIRE ME, AND NURTURE OUR FAMILY, THREE WHO ARE TRUE MUSKOKANS; SUZANNE HAVING BEEN BORN IN HUNTSVILLE, AND RAISED IN WINDERMERE, AND BOTH SONS, ANDREW AND ROBERT, HAVING BEEN BORN IN BRACEBRIDGE, ONE OF TWO HOMETOWNS THEY HAVE LIVED, IN THIS MUNICIPALITY OF ONTARIO. AS WE HAVE ENJOYED MANY OPPORTUNITIES OF LIVING IN MUSKOKA, IN DIFFERENT LOCALES, INCLUDING A PERIOD IN WINDERMERE, AND FEELING THAT THE HINTERLAND HAS ENHANCED, ENRICHED AND BEEN FULFILLING IN OUR DAY TO DAY EXISTENCE, EACH OF US WOULD BE ABLE TO PITCH IN, ON ANY DISCUSSION, OF WHY THIS REGION IS A GREAT PLACE TO LIVE AND WORK. I'VE NEVER BEEN ASKED TO PROMOTE MUSKOKA BUT I'VE FELT COMPELLED TO RETURN THE FAVORS, IT HAS SO GENEROUSLY BESTOWED ON ME, FOR TIME AND TIME. AND SIMPLY PUT, I'VE NEVER HAD A DAY LIVING IN MUSKOKA, THAT I HAVEN'T THANKED GOD FOR THE OPPORTUNITY.    FOR THOSE MOVING FROM THE URBAN CLIMES, IT WILL TAKE MONTHS AND YEARS TO ADJUST TO A RURAL RESIDENCY. EVEN IN THE MAJOR TOWNS, AND SIGNIFICANT VILLAGES, THIS IS STILL A HINTERLAND DOMINION, AND THERE IS A SIGNIFICANT FAILURE RATE AMONGST NEW RESIDENTS. THIS HAPPENED REGULARLY IN PIONEER TIMES, BACK IN THE LATE 1850'S ONWARD, WHERE SETTLERS WOULD TRY TO FARM FOR A COUPLE OF YEARS, AND THEN DECIDE TO MOVE ON TO MORE FERTILE GROUNDS. MUSKOKA WAS NOT KNOWN FOR ITS ARABLE LAND. IT HAS A NOTORIOUSLY THIN SOIL ON ROCK. THOSE WHO STAYED ON THOSE FIRST HOMESTEADS, HAVE THEIR NAMES ETCHED ONTO THE HISTORICAL CHRONICLE OF THE DISTRICT, AND MANY OF THE FAMILY NAMES ARE STILL IN EVIDENCE IN THIS NEW CENTURY. ANDREW AND ROBERT'S KIN-FOLK, ON THEIR MOTHER'S SIDE, INCLUDE THE SHEA AND VEITCH FAMILIES, WHO BEGAN SETTLEMENT IN AREA OF THREE MILE LAKE, IN THE HAMLET OF UFFORD, IN THE PRESENT TOWNSHIP OF MUSKOKA LAKES. IF YOU WERE TO TAKE A STROLL THROUGH THE UFFORD CEMETERY, SITUATED ON THE DOUGHERTY ROAD, (NEAR WINDERMERE), YOU WOULD FIND MANY OF THESE NAMES, AND SO MANY OTHERS, STILL REPRESENTED IN THE LOCAL POPULATION.

     WHEN MY FAMILY MOVED TO BRACEBRIDGE, FROM BURLINGTON, ONTARIO, IN THE LATE WINTER OF 1966, THEY WERE CITY-WEARY PEOPLE. I DON'T THINK THEY KNEW THAT, AT THE TIME, BUT MY FATHER, IN PARTICULAR, HAD BEEN EXHAUSTED BY HIS JOB AT, WHAT WAS THEN KNOWN, AS CONSUMER LUMBER, WHICH MEANT HOURS OF COMMUTING TIME. THE POOR BUGGER HAD TO GET UP AT FOUR IN THE MORNING, TO TAKE ME TO MY HOCKEY GAMES, AT AN OUTDOOR KIWANIS RINK IN BURLINGTON, STAND IN THE COLD FOR OVER AN HOUR, DRIVE ME HOME, HAVE A COFFEE, AND HEAD BACK OUT THE DOOR TO HIS JOB, WHICH I BELIEVE WAS IN HAMILTON. I REMEMBER ONE NIGHT, ED GETTING A CALL THAT REALLY DISTURBED HIM. HE TOOK OFF LIKE A SHOT FROM THE APARTMENT, WITHOUT TELLING MY MOTHER MUCH ABOUT THE CIRCUMSTANCE; OTHER THAN TO YELL BACK THAT THERE HAD BEEN A TERRIBLE FIRE AT THE YARD. HE DIDN'T GET BACK HOME FOR MOST OF THE NEXT DAY, AND WHEN HE DID, HIS COMPLEXION WAS, AS MY MOTHER NOTED, "ASHEN." I OVERHEARD HIM TELLING MY MOTHER, ABOUT ARRIVING AT THE SCENE, AS THEY WERE TENDING TO THE NIGHT SECURITY GUARD, WHO HAD BEEN INJURED BY THE INITIAL EXPLOSION, AND ALTHOUGH HAVING SURVIVED, WAS BADLY BURNED, AND WOULD LATER PASS AWAY AS A DIRECT RESULT. MY DAD FELT AWFUL ABOUT THIS, AND IT WAS ONE MORE BURDEN OF A CITY LIFESTYLE, THAT WAS BREAKING HIS BACK EMOTIONALLY. SO WHEN, LATER THAT SAME YEAR, HE GOT AN OFFER FROM A FORMER LUMBER COLLEAGUE, TO MOVE TO MUSKOKA, TO WORK AT SHIER'S LUMBER, I DON'T THINK THERE WAS A LOT OF FAMILY DEBATE. MY MOTHER WAS AS TIRED OF CITY LIFE AS HE WAS, AT THAT POINT. WE HAD VISITED WITH THE OWNER OF THE COMPANY, BOB JONES, THE PREVIOUS SUMMER, AT A COTTAGE ON BRUCE LAKE, NEAR MINETT; AND WE ALL LIKED THE IDEA OF THIS LIVING IN PARADISE THING.

     ON OUR FIRST TRIP INTO BRACEBRIDGE, AS ITS NEWEST FULL-TIME RESIDENTS, THAT FEBRUARY AFTERNOON, THE FIRST OBSERVATION MY MOTHER MADE, AS WE DROVE OVER THE SILVER BRIDGE, ABOVE THE CATARACT OF BRACEBRIDGE FALLS, WAS TO CALL THAT MANITOBA STREET SCENE, "SLEEPY HOLLOW." NOW IF YOU BELIEVE IN THE SPIRITUAL CHARACTERISTICS OF DESTINY, I MUST NOTE HERE, THAT WHILE MY MOTHER, GOD BLESS HER SOUL, KNEW WELL, THE WORK OF AUTHOR WASHINGTON IRVING, SHE WOULD NOT HAVE KNOWN, THAT HER NEW HOMETOWN HAD INDEED BEEN NAMED AFTER A BOOK WRITTEN BY THE SAME AUTHOR, AS "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW." (BRACEBRIDGE HALL). HOW STRANGE THEN, THAT HER SON, WOULD THEN WRITE A BOOK, THIRTY-FOUR YEARS LATER, ABOUT THIS CONNECTION TO WASHINGTON IRVING, AND SLEEPY HOLLOW. BELIEVE ME, MUSKOKA HAS HAD MANY SPIRITUAL INFLUENCES ON ME, SINCE THOSE EARLY DAYS, AND EVERY ONE OF THEM WELL-APPRECIATED. TO THIS POINT NOW, OF TODAY'S GLIMPSE AT THE WORK OF CANADIAN, AND MUSKOKA REGION ARTIST, FRANK JOHNSTON, FORMERLY OF GRAVENHURST, AND PORT HOPE, I AM BOTH DELIGHTED AND HONESTLY, A LITTLE MISTY-EYED FOR GOOD REASON. JOHNSTON WAS KNOWN AS ONE OF THE FINEST PRINT MAKERS IN CANADA, AS ONCE NOTED BY GROUP OF ELEVEN ARTIST, HAROLD TOWN, A LONG TIME COLLEAGUE AND DRINKING MATE, OF THE ARTIST PRINT-MAKER. THE MISTY-EYED PART, IS THAT I HAVE BEEN CAPTIVATED IN-HEART, BY ONE IMAGE, MORE THAN THE OTHERS, THAT HAS TAKEN ME BACK TO MY YOUTH, GAD-ABOUTING THE MAIN STREET, IN DOWNTOWN BRACEBRIDGE; WHICH ADMITTEDLY, I HAVE BEEN WRITING ABOUT, AND RECALLING, FOR FAR TOO LONG, ACCORDING TO SOME OF MY READERS.

     THIS PAST FRIDAY, FAMILY OF FRANK JOHNSTON, BROUGHT IN A NUMBER OF WATERCOLOR PRINTS, PAINTED BY THE WATERCOLOR ARTIST (NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH GROUP OF SEVEN ARTIST, FRANZ JOHNSTON, WHO ALSO HAD A BRACEBRIDGE AND MUSKOKA CONNECTION), FOR ME TO DISPLAY AT OUR GRAVENHURST ANTIQUE SHOP. THIS WAS COURTESY OUR FRIEND BRUCE JOHNSTON, FRANK'S NEPHEW. WE HAD BEEN DISCUSSING, ONLINE, A WAY TO HONOR THE LATE ARTIST, AND CRAFT A MEANINGFUL BIOGRAPHY, INITIALLY FOR THOSE WHO REMEMBER SEEING HIS PAINTINGS ON DISPLAY IN VARIOUS LOCATIONS, BACK IN THE 1970'S, INTO THE 1990'S. IN PARTICULAR, THE MASSIVE FRAMED WATERCOLORS, THAT HUNG ON THE WALLS AT THE FORMER SLOANS RESTAURANT ON MUSKOKA ROAD, IN GRAVENHURST. THESE WERE ILLUSTRATIONS OF STEAMSHIPS, TRAINS, AND TRAVELLERS, GATHERED AT THE FORMER MUSKOKA WHARF, AND WERE ADORED BY THOSE WHO USED TO FREQUENT THE RESTAURANT; WHICH INCLUDED A MIX OF PERMANENT AND SEASONAL RESIDENTS, AND THOSE DAY TRAVELLERS WHO ALWAYS ENJOYED STOPPING FOR A SLICE OF SLOAN'S FAMOUS BLUEBERRY PIE, AND REFLECTIVE GLANCES AT THE JOHNSTON ART PANELS, WHICH HUNG PROMINENTLY ABOVE THE DINING BOOTHS. IN FACT, FRANK JOHNSTON WAS EVEN RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ART WORK ON THE MENU COVER, AND THE WINE LIST. THERE HAD BEEN A POWERFUL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ARTIST AND RESTAURANT FAMILY, AND WE, THE CLIENTELE, GOT FULL ADVANTAGE OF BOTH; WHICH MADE SLOANS RESTAURANT ONE OF THE MOST POPULAR DINING ESTABLISHMENTS IN THE ENTIRE REGION.

     WHEN I BEGAN LOOKING THROUGH THE VARIETY OF FRANK JOHNSTON PRINTS, BRUCE JOHNSTON HAD KINDLY AFFORDED ME, I COULDN'T BELIEVE MY GOOD FORTUNE, FINDING A LATE SIXTIES DEPICTION OF "SLEEPY HOLLOW," MUCH AS MY MOTHER HAD VIEWED BRACEBRIDGE, ON THAT INITIAL MOTOR TRIP THROUGH THE HEART OF TOWN. I WAS SPEECHLESS, EXAMINING THE PROFILE OF THE MAIN STREET, LOOKING DOWN FROM THE HILLSIDE, ADJACENT TO THE BRACEBRIDGE PUBLIC LIBRARY, ALONG WHAT WAS KNOWN IN MY DAY, AS "THE QUEEN'S HILL." THE LARGE BRICK BUILDING ON THE LEFT, ABUTTING THE CLOCK TOWER, WAS ORIGINALLY KNOWN AS THE QUEEN'S HOTEL, WHICH BY THIS POINT IN TOWN HISTORY, HAD BECOME THE PATTERSON HOTEL. MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND, ARTIST ROSS SMITH, WOULD GET A KICK OUT OF THIS ARTIST PERSPECTIVE, BUT WOULD POINT OUT, THAT IT WAS MISSING SOMETHING. HE WOULD POINT TO THE FRONT OF THE HOTEL, AND SUGGEST THAT IT WOULD BE A MORE COMPLETE IMAGE, IF HIS UNCLE FENTON PATTERSON'S PINK CADILLAC, WAS PARKED ON THE HILL OPPOSITE THE FRONT DOOR. I REMEMBER THAT SO CLEARLY, JUST AS ROSS WOULD, IF HE WAS SITTING ACROSS FROM IT, AS I AM THIS MOMENT. WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER, HE WORKED AT HIS FATHER'S ESSO STATION, "THE UPTOWN GARAGE," LOCATED ON THE RIGHT-SIDE TOP, OF THE IMAGE, ON THE BRINK OF THE HILLSIDE, ADJACENT TO THE LIBRARY. BOTH ARE STILL THERE, AND THE FORMER GAS STATION IS NOW KNOWN AS THE "OLD STATION." AFTER THE GAS STATION CLOSED, IT BECAME THE "GARDEN CAFE," RUN BY ANOTHER OF MY MATES, RON TOUFAR; AND IT WAS WHERE DAVE WHITESIDE, AND HIS GUITAR CLUB, HOSTED MANY WELL ATTENDED COFFEE-HOUSE MUSICALS, IN THE EARLY 1980'S. ROSS BY THE WAY, USED TO PAINT LANDSCAPES, AT THE SALES DESK, IN BETWEEN CUSTOMERS ARRIVING FOR FILL-UPS. AT THE LOWEST CORNER OF THE OLD HOTEL, WHEN IT WAS OWNED BY THE PATTERSON FAMILY, ANOTHER ARTIST FRIEND, BILL ANDERSON, USED TO HAVE HIS BARBERSHOP, WHERE HE TOO, USED TO PAINT LANDSCAPES BETWEEN CUSTOMERS; AND SOMETIMES, WHILE HE WAS CUTTING HAIR. IF BILL WAS INSPIRED TO MAKE A CHANGE TO A PAINTING ON AN EASLE IN FRONT, HE JUST STOPPED CUTTING, AND PICKED UP HIS PAINT BRUSH. HE ALSO STOPPED TO MAKE TEA. I HAVE THREE BILL ANDERSON PAINTINGS IN OUR SHOP, AND I THINK ONE OF THEM ON THE WALL NOW, WAS IN CREATION, DURING ONE OF MY SATURDAY MORNING APPOINTMENTS, TO HAVE "MY EARS LOWERED," AS MY MOTHER USED TO SAY.

     THE OLD FIRE TOWER IS THE BRICK ARCHITECTURE ON THE RIGHT, AND THE INTERSECTION ON THE SAME SIDE, IS WITH DOMINION STREET, LEADING DOWN TO THE PROVINCIAL COURT HOUSE, AND THE FORMER BRACEBRIDGE TOWN HALL. IT'S OF COURSE THE ROUTE I WALKED EVERY MORNING, TO GET TO THE HERALD-GAZETTE OFFICE, AT 27 DOMINION STREET. AND I USED TO HIKE UP THE QUEEN'S HILL, EVERY MORNING ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL. THE BUILDING ON THE TOP LEFT, WITH THE FLAGS, WAS THE FORMER A&P GROCERY STORE, WHEN WE FIRST MOVED TO TOWN, AND OF COURSE, THE SIGN PROTRUDING FROM A PORTION OF BUILDING, CLOSEST TO THE OLD HOTEL, WAS "JOE'S BILLIARDS," WHICH WAS FREQUENTED BY TWO LOCAL LADS, WHO WENT ON TO MAKE THE BIG LEAGUES; ROGER CROZIER, OF THE DETROIT RED WINGS, OF THE N.H.L., AND PAUL RIMSTEAD, A FUTURE COLUMNIST FOR THE TORONTO SUN. THE CLOCK TOWER OF THE FORMER FEDERAL BUILDING, AT THE INTERSECTION OF THOMAS STREET, AND MANITOBA STREET, WAS ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT HERITAGE LANDMARKS, IN MY RELATIONSHIP WITH THE TOWN. I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT THE CLOCK TOWER A THOUSAND TIMES SINCE THE LATE 1970'S, WHEN I MOVED BACK TO BRACEBRIDGE, AFTER MY UNIVERSITY YEARS IN TORONTO. I REFERRED TO THE ILLUMINATED DIALS OF THE CLOCK, AS BEING MY "EYES OF ECKLEBURG," TAKEN AS REFERENCE, FROM THE F. SCOTT FITZGERALD NOVEL, "THE GREAT GATSBY." THE EYES OF THE TOWER FOLLOWED ME THROUGH ALL OF MY DAYS LIVING IN BRACEBRIDGE; THROUGH GOOD TIMES AND NOT SO GOOD. THE CHIMES, AS WELL, HAD A SENTIMENTAL RING, AND THEY REMINDED ME OF MY TIME AND PLACE, WHETHER I WAS AT THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE, AT BASS ROCK, OR SLOWLY WALKING MY GIRLFRIEND, AT THE TIME, LINDA DAWSON, HOME AFTER PUBLIC SKATING. THE RING ALWAYS INTERRUPTED ME, SUCH THAT I DID THINK ABOUT THE TIME, AND IT'S WHAT GROUNDED ME, IN THE PASSIONS OF THE PARTICULAR MOMENT. LIKE BEING REMINDED TO PRESERVE THESE MOMENTS FOR POSTERITY; AND THAT SOME TIME IN THE FUTURE, IT WILL BE AN IMPORTANT RECOLLECTION. WELL, THIS IS A CASE IN POINT. THIS WONDERFUL, REMINISCENT ART PEICE, BY FRANK JOHNSTON, HAS REMINDED ME OF THAT CLOCK TOWER BELL, THOSE EVER-WATCHING, NON-JUDGEMENTAL EYES, AND ABOUT THE PEOPLE I KNEW BACK THEN, THAT I WISH I COULD TALK TO NOW. ISN'T THAT A PINNACLE CREDIT FOR THE ARTIST, THAT I, THE VOYEUR SHOULD BE SO DELIGHTFULLY ENTICED INTO THE MAGIC OF THE SCENE. I HATE TO ADMIT BEING A LITTLE HEARTSICK AT THIS MOMENT, BUT I CAN FEEL THE SLUSH UNDER FOOT, AND THE BRISK WIND, ETCHING DOWN UPON THIS LATE WINTER SCENE, THREATENING OF SNOW OR FREEZING RAIN. IT'S AS IF I CAN SENSE THE PRECISE PLACE ON THE HILLSIDE, WHEN I WOULD HAVE GRABBED LINDA'S MITTED-HAND, AS WE SWUNG OUR SKATES CONTENTLY, IN OUR OPPOSITE HANDS, FEELING THAT THIS DAY'S JOY WOULD NEVER FAIL US. I AM A FOOL FOR DAWDLING TOO LONG, ON THE SEPIA-TONE SENTIMENTS, BEST LEFT TO THE DOG EARED, SCRAPBOOKS, AND HAUNTING SENSATIONS OF OTHER TIMES, WE EXPERIENCE WHEN SUDDENLY, WE PASS A FAMILIAR LANDMARK THAT HOLDS A SPECIAL MEMORY. TODAY, TRYING TO SUM IT ALL UP, ABOUT FRANK JOHNSTON'S DEPICTION OF BRACEBRIDGE'S MANITOBA STREET, I HAVE STROLLED EMOTIONALLY ONCE MORE, ALONG THAT FAMILIAR LENGTH OF STREET, IN WHAT I KNEW WITH AFFECTION, AS OUR SLEEPY HOLLOW.

     PLEASE JOIN ME THIS WEEK, FOR MORE FRANK JOHNSTON RETROSPECTIVES, COURTESY THE JOHNSTON FAMILY.