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Old Horse-tail at Drummy and Dorch to get new image

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  All you Krauts and wannabe lederhosen-wearers have been asking me where they can go to have a nice stein of cold Krautbrau but only end up weeping on the floor when I say there's not much action in that department.
   But I can announce that you will soon have an option to bring your German children to dine downtown in the form of the Beer Hall, as the old Queue de Cheval at Drummond and Dorchester will soon be rechristened.
   I don't actually know if it's going to be truly as German-themed as the name suggests but heck it's planned to be cheaper than the old restaurant, whose name is being taken elsewhere by one of the partners.
   In other downtown development news, the massive Selfridges/Ogilvy's/ Hotel de la Montagne project, I am told, isn't exactly steaming along and some have suggested that it might not simply go ahead. One rumour has it that the owner of Thursdays has repurchased his bar and plans to renovate and reopen soon. We really need to get our rooftop terrace and its glorious swimming pool back, don't we?
   Any other solid info would be appreciated.

Fighting boredom in the gay village

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  I'm not a huge fan of the gay village, an area which claims a title of diversity but is really just full of 60 year old male pervs and Hydro Quebec retirees eyeing each other in boredom.
   This abandoned property at Champlain and St. Cat has befuddled me. With a large market of men with disposable incomes (ie: no kids) you'd imagine that a clothing store could thrive in the area. But there's just about none anywhere.

  Some sorta impressive art deco diver is emblazoned on the big greystone on the embattled strip between Pap and Cartier. The origins of the diver aren't really clear but I'd be curious to know why it's there.
   The adjacent building, by the way, was recently struck by a blaze. The Viets who own the property and the restaurant on the main floor vow to have it back soon.
   Local residents were abuzz about the fire for days after it happened. Guess they need something to worry about.
   It takes some doing to doze off on the sidewalk under a hot, humid sun but this aboriginal managed to do just that and was assisted a few seconds later by the cute little bicycle patrol folks seen at left.
   Gotta salute someone with a finger fast enough to emblazon a message in wet cement. "Luc je t'aime quand meme."
   Luc, I love you anyways.
   Luc most likely doesn't deserve that, but that's just my speculation. 

This lovely old greystone at the NW corner of St. Cat and Cartier is no more....

...as you can see in this photo, below..
Them folks on the right were likely part of a recent transvestite fest but not sure about the bombacious babeshell at left.

Cops riding weird little machines are seen ticketing a guy who slowly and safely rode his bicycle down the pedestrian zone. He told me afterwards that he deserved the ticket, which I took to mean, "I ain't paying it." The girl with the skateboard was similarly admonished but not ticketed for a similar offence. I figured she was obviously just a kid judging by her skaterboiii cutoffs and stockings but her face later revealed her to be old enough to know better.
 One of the weirder facades has been whitewashed. This gay stripper joint on the north side of St. Cat just west of Pap has lost its big devil's head and is now just as clean as can be.

What to do when you see a green onion giving you a parking ticket near a meter

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The best way to save the $52 fine Montreal lays on motorists who arrive just as a meter maid (meter
master?) is slapping a ticket on your car is not to beg, bribe, threaten, entreaty, charm (Ok.. enough - Chimples) but rather there's another route worth exploring.
   The thing to do is run to the nearest machine and quickly pop in some cash and get a receipt for that spot you're in.
   Apparently you have a grace period of three minutes.
   So if your ticket is given at 2 p.m. and your receipt says you're good until 2:03 p.m., you'll be okay when you contest your fine.
   Take the ticket, mail it in with your parking meter receipt and just wait. Apparently it can take about a year sometimes to get a reply, but the reply will be good news: you will be let off the hook for the fine.
   This solution was offered on HF boards forum, so I cannot personally attest to its veracity but I'm good with it.

Horrible crimes from 1986

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   Richard Aubin was horrified when he got his shovel out to fix some basement drains in a house he was gutting at 5012 Ste. Marie in Little Henry's on Tues. Aug. 12, 1986.
   What he found was a terrifying collection of bones buried in the basement.
   Fellow shovelers Yves Couture, Gerard Fleury and Michel Caron were so shocked that they called the police and Margaret Marugg and Jean Lafleche showed up to investigate from Station 23.
   So next time you walk by that house, run, don't walk.

                                                               ***
   Benoit Gaignery, aka Ben Gaignery, from the south shore, had a very bad heroin addiction in the mid-80s.
   He was married to Anne-Marie D'amour, who was sweet as honey, and hot as the frying pan that a stoner forgets on the burner.
  They were 21, and had a 3-year-old daughter and were engaged to be married at the end of 1985.
   In spite of his good fortunes, young Ben confessed that he had issues of self-confidence and would hide behind an image of nonsense by sipping 15 beers and smoking a joint before turning into a full-bore heroin addict.
   "Instead of paying my rent and buying food for my family, I would inject myself with $500-$600 a week in the arm," he told Allo-Police.
   On August 29, 1985 Anne-Marie asked for advice in helping with the pain she felt from four tooth extractions she had undergone at the Verdun Hospital.
   He gave her a bit of his heroin and she died.
   He expressed extreme remorse and faced charges the next year. .
                                                                  ***
    Claude Dionne, 21, seen below, was looking for something cool to do in the summer of '86, which wasn't such an amazing summer. Wham! Simply Red, Bananarama were on the radio, alongside such crap as Peter Gabriel and Madonna, so it was at the tail end of a creative period which was to be be replaced by college radio, cowpunk, REM-style borefest bands.
   So Dionne went out on Fri. Aug 21, 1986 and spent the night hanging around bars.
   At about 3:30 a.m he happened to meet up with a stranger named Jacques Brais, who lived in Granby, but came originally from Montreal.
   Brais was on welfare and came into town to hit the nightclubs with the $280 left of his welfare cheque stuffed into his pocket.

  Dionne generously agreed to allow Brais to sleep on his couch at 1832 Saint Christophe #4, near the corner of Ontario, a particularly sketchy area back then. 
   Brais fell asleep quickly. 
   From clubbing, to being clubbed: Brais was hammered to death with an aluminum baseball bat as he slept on Dionne's couch. The $280 was removed from his pocket.
   Dionne called cops himself on Sat. Aug. 2, 1986. He was charged with murder.
                                                                   ***
    Olive Astbury, 87, lived alone in a home near Fitch Bay Village near Magog and on March 30, 1986, found herself raided by a pack of bandits, who allegedly included Roger Bronson, 21, a young man she knew.
    Bronson, from Ayer's Cliff to the south, allegedly marched into her home with three other friends, all clad in stockinged faces, and cut her phone line, grabbed the $1,000 cash she had stashed and stole her car.
    Others allegedly in on the robbery were Normand Wood, 29, David Keeble, 24, Scotty Percy, 26, all of Ayer's Cliff.
   The young men were arrested on a tip a few weeks later.
   Astbury would be 113 if she's still alive now.
   The others would be between 47 and 55.
   I don't know if they're still alive. I don't know if I'm still alive.
                                                              ***
   We have discussed the concept of urban mood borders elsewhere on this site and Davidson St below Sherbrooke is a good example.
   You're cruising pleasantly near Pie IX and see the last big street west of the Big O but when you look down you see a lawless place with a sinister feel.
   You reach for your numchuks as you stare at the sneakers hanging power lines and graffiti celebrating the death of police officers.
   One June 24, 1986, Georges Seguin, 23 of 2466 Davidson apartment 13-A and Claude Lauzier, 23, of Desire St. in Montreal were suspected of killing mother of four Paulette Trepanier, 48, who lived in a nearby apartment.
   The two young goofs had spent the evening before St. Jean Baptiste celebrating La Fay-tuh Nationale with some older folks. She was there.
    Lauzier told  his buddy Seguin that his neighbor Trepanier owned him $300. So they decided to retrieve the cash by force. Seguin allegedly said it'd be best to stab her so she wouldn't be able to finger him afterwards.
   So between 3 and 4 a m Tuesday June, 24 1986 they took out a fire extinguisher from nearby and knocked on her door. She answered naked. She was frequently nude inside her tiny 1 ½ apartment.
   They blasted her in the face with the chemicals from the extinguisher.
   Lauzier then allegedly grabbed her from the back and Seguin stabbed her a dozen times.
   She fell on her and then they allegedly* hit her in the face with a baseball bat several times. She'd eventually die, of course.
   Neighbour Andre Filion was awoken by the noise and came around to see what was shaking.
   It turned out he was shaking after he got hammered in the forehead with a bat.
   They allegedly tossed the baseball bat in the laneway on the roof of a garage and dumped the knife in a bush.
   They returned home at 4:30 a.m. and woke the janitor to tell him that something strange happened. They were fingered soon after.
                                                              ***
   Nothing ever happens in Candiac, but the exception that proves that rule occurred on June 29, 1986 at
Anne Lise Krause
7 Place du Boheme.  
Gunther Krause
   Gunther Krause, a German engineer, 51, was decapitated on a Sunday in the basement of that otherwise lovely home.    
   Anne Lise Krause, 50, claimed that she did it.
    The aluminum bat was found inside the house. Turns out their son Martin, 18, a student, committed the unspeakable act and she confessed for him.
   Gunther  had come to Montreal in the mid-60s to work as an engineer at Pratt and Whitney in Longueuil.
  They had two kids, Judith Krause, 24, an accountant, and Martin, both born in Quebec.
   The parents had a bad fight at 8:30 Saturday morning June 28. It even spilled outside.
   Judith was there watching on as her father yelled at her mom and even tried to stop her from getting into her car.  
Martin Krause, 18, busted
   But she left for the family cottage on Lake Bowker in the Townships.
   Son Martin wasn't there to see the fight but when he returned, he had a discussion with his dad, who was watching the World Cup of soccer on a TV in the basement.
   The two argued and Martin allegedly literally decapitated his father with the bat.
   Young Martin then took the car and drove to Lake Bowker to join his mother and sister. He told his mom what happened. They returned the next day, burned the clothing and she claimed responsibility as she called the police. Instead young Martin was arrested and strolled out with cops to face his charges.
                                                                    ***
Lajeunesse-Howey at 1287 Wolfe
 Do you remember elderly Germaine Lajeunesse-Howey? Probably few do, as she was a bit of a loner living in a modest apartment in the area she had inhabited for 50 years.
   She had only recently moved into her home at 1287 Wolfe nine days earlier but the place was giving her the willies.
Yves Belanger
    She told others that she felt ill-at-ease on the block but she befriended a neighbour named Yves Belanger, 26 who lived across the street at 1302 Wolfe. He too had recently moved in the week earlier in that part of what's now called the Gay Village.
    He went to the corner store for her and did her other such small convenient favours
   But on a steamy June 28, 1986 young Yves Belanger went clubbing until 3 a.m. and then allegedly broke into her place and killed her to steal her stuff.
   Murder, unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, was a much more common custom back them.
                                                                   ***

Kids looked at the scene where the kidnapper Teasdale (inset) took one in the noggin
   Kidnapping plots are a surprising rarity considering how often we see them in film and TV programs. So when Pierre Leclerc, part owner of the Fabreville Glass store at 4766 Ste. Rose was hit by such a demand on Friday Aug. 22, 1986, for $13,000 to be paid within 72 hours, he must have been plenty shocked.
   The extortionists said that his pregnant wife would not have the baby she was expected to deliver soon if he didn't pay it up.
   In fact the kidnappers had initially asked for much more but negotiations saw the price fixed at $13,000.  
    He arranged a dropoff and police were watching closely in hopes of catching the culprit.
   Leclerc delivered 130 $100 bills to a home on Vianney in Blainville.
   Cops then saw a red 1978 Mercury Cougar slowly sneaking off. They jumped into hot pursuit but the Cougar was speeding and was already a half mile ahead when cops stopped him at a roadblock on 89th Ave. W.
   Police said that he looked like he was reaching for a gun and so one police Laval marksman shot Mike Teasale in the head, killing him in front of a home on 2 89th W. in Blainville.
  Teasdale, 26, had been on parole after plotting a murder. He was, of course, dead. Also arrested was his girlfriend Danielle Brousseau, 30,  as well as Claude Bourgeois, 32, and Ginette Bourgeois, 31.
   It appears that Brousseau used to go out with Leclerc and he might have been targeted out of revenge.
                                                                ***
Vincente and Lilla Lafalce
   Vincente Lafalce, 38,  who was known by his musical stage name Cacho Lafalce, was unhappily married to Lilla Lafalce, 33, and living with their child at that tall high-rise at Girouard and Sherbrooke.
   She rather blatantly had another lover, an anglo living in Montreal North, whom she barely bothered hiding from her husband, who even once caught them in bed together at his home.
  Vincent became so distraught that he came close to killing himself on January 12, 1986.
   He wrote up a suicide note and called a friend who tried for three hours to dissuade him.
   Lafalce, who came to Montreal in 1974 hoping to make a career in music, finally put his foot down nine days later and asked his wife to leave her lover. She declined and laughed in his face.
   So he took a .38 pistol, right in front of their sick son and aimed at his wife and shot six times, hitting her in the head three times and three times in the body. He called police and confessed. He was charged with murder.
                                                                          ***
Steve Mandeville
   Out on the south shore in Contrecoeur, a 45 minute drive from Westmount Square lies an rink called the Steve Mandeville Arena.
   "Who exactly is Steve Mandeville?" I hear you ask.
Andre Charest
   He was the hockey-playing 11-year-old son of Ginette and Maurice Mandeville, who was coached by a 39-year-old Andre Charest, who had issues with cocaine, having once taken a small girl hostage in his car and driven her around.
   So Mandeville received a phone call from his coach, asking him to come to the local arena at 7 p.m. on Aug. 25, 1986. He was later found dead 12 km away from the arena in a roadside with his bicycle. He had been strangled by a telephone cord. But he had not been sexually molested.
   Witnesses identified a car with a bicycle sticking out of it and cops fast found the man and traces of the boy's hair and blood in the trunk.
   Charest was a divorced father of three, having fathered kids with two different women. He lived a block away from the Mandevilles and worked data entry at the same company as the father,  Sidbec Dosco Steel. He had participated in the 100-person search for the boy.
   About 1,000 people attended Mandeville's funeral.

 *(I say "allegedly" because I didn't see any follow-up to the story so it has been already been long established in a court of law whether they actually did these deeds or not, I simply don't know that element of the story).   

Why you should vote for Michel "Crazy like a fox" Benoit for mayor

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   The preposterous photo at left shows mayoral candidate Michel Benoit, who is easily recognized because he has a huge name tag around his neck, sneaking up alongside Premier Pauline Marois at the recent gay pride parade.
    Benoit was part of the Dore administration in the early 90s and has been kicking around municipal politics since.
   He has most recently been known as the guy who asks a lot of questions in question and answer periods about Bixi. 
   We salute him for his sly ability to look important next to the premier and the interim mayor (whatever his name is).
   Sorta ruins the picture for the premier though. Which goes to show, one man's photo op, is another man's photo bomb.

Billy the Whistler hits Queen Mary

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Not every bum makes it to Coolopolis. This ain't no mook life.
   But Billy the Whistler just can't be denied.
   I know making it to the front page of Coolopolis might be a little too much joy for this joy-spreading man to endure but we'll take our chances.
   Enjoy his amazing whistling technique...  If you want to see him around live, go to Queen Mary around the Jewish Y and you might get an exclusive show.

Cities green-roof their highways while Montreal dozes

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   One thine the west end needs? 
   More separatists. No, seriously. The western part of the city of Montreal never attracts major government investment or any other political goodies because it is a slam-dunk Liberal party vote, so both sides take the area for granted and thus the area never gets anything nice and doesn't even bother asking for or dreaming for any responsible planning.
   Thus the chances of a highly-sensible plan like the green-roof covering of at least parts of the Decarie expressway have never been considered or even proposed in any serious way other than on Coolopolis.
   And yet as this article points out, (Thanks to S.H. for the link) cities such as Seattle, Boston, St. Louis, Chicago and Los Angeles have actually completed or are seriously proposing far more ambitious schemes to hide highways by putting them below ground and covering them with grass.
   Montreal's project would be relatively simply compared to these other cities as the Decarie Expressway is already below ground level and could be done easily in piecemeal form if required. 
   The roof is something an engineer could draw up on his lunch break, as the weight to be carried above would require fewer and smaller supports below.
   How would we get the cash to do this? I'd say we could get the engineering firms found guilty of collusion to do it at as punishment freeb, or else divert some of the billions money for the unneeded Turcot rebuild - which will paralyze traffic in the west end - and put it towards this initiative.

Requiem to a wall: our simplest, cheapest, most overlooked urban recreational facility

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    A plain wall is a beautiful thing for a neighbourhood.

Roslyn School  once had a good tennis wall
The one thing every neighbourhood needs and nobody ever thinks of giving 'em is: a wall. 
   That's right, just a plain wall with no windows or pipes
or basketball nets fastened onto them is a great
recreational asset for any area, as it provides an essential sports surface for a bunch of sports that people can play alone or with others.
   Here's why I've always loved walls for sports and think we need a ton more of them: in spite of growing up with two brothers and three sisters, I was alone much of the time as a kid, constantly looking for ways to amuse myself while my four elders and one younger sibling were doing their best to get into whatever they were doing.
My first love affair with a wall: 580 Grosvenor
   So I'd frequently get out my baseball glove and throw a tennis ball against our driveway wall and test my fielding skills, seeing if I could make hot backhand stabs and quickly toss another before stretching far to the right to grab the next one. I eventually graduated up to hard rubber lacrosse balls, which were even harder to grab. I was probably a pretty good fielder but my area had no serious baseball teams so I'll never know.
  Then I realized that the nearby school had a huge expanse to hit a tennis ball and would duplicate the same game behind Roslyn School. That wall was so awesome that there was even a line between the foundation and the bricks just about the same height as a tennis net.
 So I got to be relatively proficient at tennis before ever even walking onto a court.
 Then when I finally got a friend after years of trying, we played a form of two man baseball.
  The hitter would stand in front of a rectangular strike zone painted on the wall.
   The other guy would toss tennis balls hoping toss strikes and an imaginary runner would get to first if he failed four times, and so forth.
  Roslyn School, as you see in the photo, pretty much wrecked the chance to play these games by putting stuff all over the place and that same spirit of misunderstanding of the recreational utility of plain walls is duplicated everywhere.
   For  a few years I used to bring my daughter to the parking lot of the nursing school at the corner of Oxford and Upper Lachine and we'd hit tennis balls onto the wall until the douchebags who organize that facility installed fences to keep people like us out.
   There went the only useful wall in this entire neighbourhood, and I frequently see people trying to hit tennis balls onto the tiny wall of the chalet in Oxford Park, often losing balls onto the roof in the process. It's heartbreaking to watch when they do and always leave dejected.


Statue park on Sherbrooke: did it exist?

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   Did I imagine one of the neatest places from my early childhood?
   Was the statue park next to the Chateau Versailles Hotel on Sherbrooke just something I dreamed up?
   Because I've never heard anybody else ever mention it and when I ask, nobody knows.
  Compounding my irritation at the loss of this highly-amazing little square full of statues that one stood in what's now the hotel parking lot is that I just get blank stares when I mention it.
   In fact nobody anywhere remembers the idyllic little artistic square that I recall from my youth.
The square would have looked something like this
   My limited attempts to find an old photo showcasing this really neat place that so enthralled me as a small child have also proven fruitless.
   The Villeneuve family long owned the hotel and my attempts to ask them about it were answered with a shrug. So maybe I just imagined the whole thing.
    Anybody else remember it?
   As a kid it was up there with cannons in Westmount Park and the oratory as some of the more spectacular things to see around town.
   Anybody?

Montreal's next number one hunk

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  Montreal women and girls and other aficionados of attractive men might have been feeling a void ever since de facto reigning hunk Carey Price lost steam among lonely hearts by getting married, complaining about being recognized in grocery stores and having a bad playoffs.
   So the throne has been vacated and we've got a candidate.
   The last male Montreal celeb to hit the big approval numbers on the ladies-love charts was Sheldon Souray but he is long gone, so we're predicting that this guy will be the next big studly attraction.
   He's got a bit of a Kev-Bac thingy in this pic but we can assure you that in more flattering photos where his hair is washed and coiffed, he has the dreamy eyes and a thick mane, rare for a blonde who tend to go bald a lot.
   Up to you to figure out who he is though.
   Anybody?

Where was this?

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Me and this building?
It was love at first sight.
Although it's from a bye-bye-gone era, it was designed with a very currently-looking frontage that showcased a couple of floors at once.

Montreal horror: inside a highly-secretive mental institution

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   These slightly-unusual postcards showing the interior of the St. Jean de Dieu mental hospital show a part of a secretive and sometimes-horrific world.
   Some accounts have it that the St. Jean de Dieu mental hospital in the east end - now called Louis Hyppolite Lafontaine - they love long names don't they? - was one of the most evil places on the island.    Back before modern

mental medication was discovered, many barbaric practices were required to keep mental patients in check and they were all tried out at this place according to some accounts, mainly from Denis Lazure and Gerald Pelletier who both helped expose some of the troubles at this hospital.
  There was also a widely-read personal account from an ex-patient whose name slips my mind.  Funny story about that book, the author got Lazure to write a nice preface to his book without knowing that it was going to attack the institution and its barbaric practices. Embarrassment ensued.
      The hospital housed Maurice Duplessis, where he was treated for alcoholism and also long ago the famous poet Nelligan who was quite batty.    
   As well, there was a fire about a century ago that claimed many lives and some think that it suited the purposes of the nuns, who were glad of the extinction of a part of the facility.
   Yet another weird thing: there's supposedly a bunch of bones buried at an unofficial graveyard outside the facility, which some have dubbed the pigsty cemetery.
   The bodies are possibly those of patients who were experimented on but the details of that will likely be never fully known.
The lightened areas were wiped out by fire
    And how exactly did the hospital
manage to keep totally secret? Well the strangest thing of all is that it was technically it's own borough on the island of Montreal, or district or whatever they were known as back before the merger.
    So until the mid-60s Gamelin - which was just the mental hospital -  had its own tiny police force and fire department (probably a closet full of buckets) and yet never really had elections because technically there were no residents.
It was so big it had trains in its hallways
   I've asked a couple of times at the city to see municipal files on Gamelin but was met with a shrug. No dice.
  The moral of the story is that the religious folk that ran this hospital in whatever way they wanted due to the secrecy they were able to obtain were also subject to a backlash from that very lack of transparency.
   Their legacy has is one of darkness and suspicion and while many people surely received good treatment there, the history of the institution has been tarnished by its many years of secret-keeping.

Montreal needs underground bike parking

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Part of the many inconveniences of riding a bike include the issue of parking the darn thing.
   Here in Montreal there's a - I'd say - a 35% chance that somebody will knock it down onto the sidewalk, a 17% chance that the bike will get stolen and a 94% chance that you'll return to your bike wondering why you decided to take your bike instead of your car.
   So my Japanese friends came up with an elegant solution: for $22 a month you get a pass that will allow you to park your bike in a creepy, weird and wonderful underground crypt.  
  You shove in your card, jam in the bicycle and walk off.
   When you return you insert your card, wait 12 seconds and then ride off. The machine is a big tube that takes the bike to some underground location, the less you know about the better because there's all sorts of weird stuff going on down there.
   One machine can handle about 100 bikes or something and that's the equivalent of a very large and ugly footprint of bicycles above ground.
   These would also be useful for bixis, which aren't all that good right now because there are never any stands near places that I could use them.
   I predict that we shall see these suckers within the next few years.

Pics to ponder

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The Bonsecours church on Common street has never been mentioned as an important local landmark other than in the song Suzanne by Leonard Cohen. One possible reason: it has been drabified and left relatively colourless in recent years after once being a flashy dolled up eyecatcher as seen in the postcard at left.


You've got to admire the hopefulness of this image of Wellington in the Point, an area that has been beleagured by increasing poverty for some time, particularly after the closing over several big factories. If you think of the city as being built outward from Old Montreal, you've got your working class slums of Griffintown, supplanted by better-constructed homes in the Point, which in turn were then replaced by somewhat-better (and booze free) houses in Verdun and so on, as these areas were all once upon a time part of urban sprawl.

I can vaguely recall a mid-70s CB radio craze, the evolution of the ham radio. Not sure what the fun of these devices was, other than to avoid watching the two-channel TV with the wife and kids in the living room after dinner. Apparently they printed cards to extend their glory.

Not sure what this Montreal image was, but it's pretty hot.
   Leon Baldwin was a sorta radio/TV guy originally from Quebec City. His mom Betty was apparently some kinda notable too, a painter, I think.
   His address 1433 Towers is that little street we used to call Calcutta north but it seems like a suitable building for some kinda fishnet-sniffin' pervert like this guy seems to have been. And we mean that as a compliment, of course. 



A few years ago somebody suggested that having Nelson's column as one of the city's main landmarks is inappropriate and said that we should replace Nelson with 1837 rebel Wolfred Nelson, who bears the same name. Wolfred, sadly, was quite hideous, so that was one strike against him. But we could make everybody happy by finding another Montreal Nelson for the stand and I nominate former Expo Nelson Santovenia
Apparently there were wooden fences all around the little rivers in Westmount Park once upon a time.













This service station sat on St. Catherine just east of Towers in the 1920s.




  I love this graphic from the St. Baptiste Society in the '50s. They went from having fun to being pissed off over the generations.










And here's another cool postcard back from when Montreal was marketing itself on its attraction to cats. 

Musings on the four new proposed metro stations..

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  I was being asked 'bout what I think about the plans to put new metros further into the east end.
  Now some might think that it's a giant ripoff that the metros would be built to the east while nothing ever gets extended to the west.
  But I've been hearing about this great need for about 20 years. Apparently the numbers justify it.
  And if it gets built, then the metros to the west might eventually follow.
  The thing is.. the blue line is a bit of a nothing line.
   It doesn't bring you downtown, which is where you probably want to go.
   It can bring you to the orange line and you can transfer down but I always hated transferring.
   Now if you lived near that line you'd have to ask: isn't it just faster to hop a bus down Pie IX or one of those north south streets and then hop onto the green line?
   That would certainly be how I'd go if I lived anywhere to the south of this proposed line and maybe even to the north.
   Perhaps the line could eventually loop around to meet the green line, which would be pretty cooltastic.
   As for the money, from what I can recall the province has a budget of about $30 billion and about half of that goes to health care. I don't know where the famous $7 billion from Alberta comes in, but according to my understanding any given year the province of the Kweebecks has $15 billion to pay for absolutely everything outside of the realm of health. That could make this project a little hard to finance.
   I'm no transit geek (which is why I still have a healthy social life) but perhaps someone out there with a deeper perspective could weigh in on the comments section below.    

They run, you elect them and they sit: Quebec's provincial politicians get into shape

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Here's an article I wrote in the Gazette two years ago about the exercise habits of our MNAs.

I wrote it in hopes of encouraging people to become fit.  So get on it guys!
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    They run for office just so they can sit. And sitting is just what many elected members of the National Assembly do. All day, Quebec's 125 MNAs remain seated in chairs during meetings, business lunches and car drives, leaving almost no time to hit the gym and develop rock solid lats and glutes.

   In a province where almost half of the entire budget goes to the health sector -that's a cool $28 billion per year -one might imagine those who manage our health should make an effort to be muscular examples of fitness.
   In recent decades, health issues have haunted the assembly, tragically cutting down some of Quebec's most promising provincial leaders. Premier Paul Sauve died at 52, just 100 days into his reign, Daniel Johnson Sr. only made it through half a mandate when he died at 53, Jean-Jacques Bertrand suffered a heart attack in office and died at 56. More recent titans Rene Levesque and Robert Bourassa only lived to 63 and 65, respectively.
   Nowadays, a new generation of fitness-oriented provincial politicians prioritize their physical health, pushing themselves away from their desks to hit the gyms, ski hills and roads.
   Labelle riding's Parti Quebecois MNA Sylvain Page, 49, is part of that new generation. The former race walker switched to running 18 years ago and is not considering letting up. "I keep a pair of
running shoes in my office, condo, house and car. I'm ready to go any time. I work out in my home gym every morning because running is the sport that gets you into shape the fastest, and I believe a healthy body makes for a healthy mind," Page says.
Sylvain Page
   When he entered the provincial assembly in 2001, Page lamented the lack of a gym in the building. A long-standing proposal to build a $300,000 exercise facility had been shelved when elected officials believed the public would consider it too luxurious. So Page started eyeballing a room of about 20 by 20 feet that had previously housed a few mats and punching bags favoured by former assembly president and karate aficionado Pierre Charbonneau.
   After a transformation of $30,000, the modest exercise room, which is open 24 hours a day to MNAs, now contains fitness machines and two showers. The gym attracts about 15 to 20 regulars. Many agree that cabinet minister Yolande James spends far more time working the abs and doing aerobics than any other official.

Yolande James
  The Queen of the Assembly gym, according to many, is Quebec’s Minister of Families, Yolande James, 33, who’s in bed every night by eleven and hits treadmill six days a week at5:30 a.m. where she dashes for about 40 minutes at a brisk 8 miles an hour. “On the days I don’t do it I feel slower in the brain,” she says. “I just don’t feel as energetic if I miss. Running provides the energy to do important and challenging work and it’s the one time I have alone with myself. It’s important to have that time to clear my mind and concentrate on what’s coming in the day.”
   James is also known for having healthy snacks strategically within reach as a way to beat the temptation to gorging on fast food but she also refrains from cajoling those with more slovenly ways. “It’s a personal thing but I’ve seen other colleagues get into exercising and they see that it’s a good feeling, they see it can become like a drug with all the endorphins flowing.”
   Pierre Moreau, 52, Liberal whip from Chateauguay, was also instrumental in building that gym. He was negatively inspired by stories of old-time drinking traditions at the assembly. "I heard all the old stories. They used to call this building Parliament Hotel, in honour of all those MNAs who fell asleep here after drinking," he says. When he inherited Michel Morin's job as whip, Moreau also took on his predecessor's exercise habits. Morin had responded to heart issues by taking to the gym for a couple of hours each day.
   Moreau believes his five-day-a-week treadmill-intensive workouts have made him a better politician. "I get more energy, focus and can really listen to questions. It just makes me a lot more efficient."
   The importance of fitness in Canada's legislatures is not one that's considered particularly pressing outside of Quebec, where only Alberta houses a gym in its legislature, and it is described by an official as a "small room in the basement."
   Provinces such as British Columbia give elected reps the same discount rate as provincial employees to attend public gyms.
   Liberal MNA Geoff Kelley, 55, is sheepishly not a fan of hitting the gym. "When we are up Quebec City, the days are very long. We often we have a caucus at 7:30 and the days aren't done until
Geoff Kelley
sometimes 12 hours later," says Kelley, a father of five. "Once you've done all that, you don't have much energy left over to go for a walk. You're here with your suit and business shoes on."
   In warmer months, Kelley plays 20 games in the outfield for a West Island baseball team, which made the playoffs this year, and he saddles up for the occasional long bike ride. But the winter grind takes its toll on his fitness. "It's a challenge to lead a healthy life. I'm just not a gym guy. I've tried to interest myself in the stationary bike, but never succeeded."
   One health expert says that studies consistently demonstrate that fitness contributes to mental alacrity and could contribute to a better dialogue by diminishing the hostile bickering that sometimes plagues sessions of the assembly. "If we have pent up energy that's not being released, it will get released one way of another, often through anger," says David Siscoe, who runs several gyms in the Montreal area.
   Exercise also reduces stress and Siscoe recommends compact workouts for overcharged politicians or anybody high on stress and short on time. He proposes 15-minute timed walks where one attempts to travel farther upon each voyage. He also suggests a quick series of five pushups, 10 squats, 15 sit ups done 10 times, which can be completed in 12 minutes. "I work with people with private jets and people on welfare. Everybody has 12 minutes in their day and all can reap tremendous benefits from that small amount of daily exercise."
   Many MNAs see eating properly as the biggest obstacle to remaining a fit rep. "It's impossible to eat well in this job," says Taschereau's PQ MNA Agnes Maltais, 54. She laments that her fitness life is not what it was when she worked in theatre, played handball and badminton and ran in the morning, a practice that stopped when she damaged her shins. Maltais' diminished regime now includes snowshoeing and the occasional four-hour walk.
   Emilien Pelletier, 64, who represents St. Hyacinthe for the PQ, also agrees that chowing down remains the enemy of the elected official. The MNA for St. Hyacinthe has completed several marathons and his son doubles as his trainer. He quit smoking but confesses to sinful eating. "Everybody tells me not to eat so much fast food," he says. "But I like to eat and I abuse that sometimes."
   The allure of unhealthy snacking has seduced many a politician. "We spent a lot of time in meetings, not moving," says Rouyn Liberal Daniel Bernard, 51." I try to eat a lot of veggies and avoid fried foods, rice and pasta, but I have a weakness for snacks and sometimes just can't resist." The seven-year MNA uses the stationary bike at the gym but has ditched hard-knuckle sports for more recreational activities: cross-country skiing has gone downhill and jogging has been replaced by golf.
   At least until the early '90s, MNAs who concerned themselves with staying fit were seen as oddballs, according to former MNA Neil Cameron. Politicians were given access to a gym at the Hilton Hotel and only a few, such as Equality Party leader Robert Libman, put it to use.
Neil Cameron
   Cameron suggests that the rising popularity in fitness at the assembly could also just be a reflection of larger society. "I never would have imagined how much Nautilus machines and gourmet coffee have spread in society at large, so maybe the MNAs of today are a more sober, muscular, caffeine-crazy bunch. I find this thought a bit alarming."
   And not all MNAs believe that they have an obligation to be in any better shape than their constituents. "We're not extra-terrestrials," says Francois Gendron, Quebec's longest serving MNA, having spent 34 of his 65 years as an elected representative with the PQ. "We're a reflection of the population and I live a similar life to my constituents in Abitibi West."
   Nevertheless, Gendron finds time to play tennis, golf and go rollerblading in the summer and both forms of skiing in the winter. The former cabinet minister has always made time for staying in shape. "It's not the time we have, it's the time we take," says Gendron, who confesses to having quit smoking "about 10 times."
   Fellow former smoker Jacques Chagnon, 58, Liberal MNA for Westmount- Saint-Louis, kicked the butts 25 years ago when he entered the assembly. He's keen on golfing, hunting and fishing but also splashes in a pool three or four times a week, averaging between a kilometre or a mile, depending on how he's feeling about the metric system that day. "My doctor is also my good friend, we swim together," Chagnon says.
   Then there are those like Liberal Pierre Reid, 62, whose bike riding and cross country skiing hobbies have been curtailed by real life. "I've slowed down a bit since my son was born in 2007, " he says. Reid now leans on a strict diet to keep his form. He avoids sugar, bread, pasta, flour, corn, rice and potatoes to keep in shape,
   And just because you don't see your MNA at the gym or rollerblading madly around the local park does not mean they're not staying in shape. Some do their exercising in places that nobody can see. Liberal Francine Charbonneau, 48, who moved to Quebec from the Commission scolaire de Laval in 2008, stashes her collapsible treadmill under her bed and burns it up for up to half an hour every morning. Her son helps her train, but she has found that running for office is still easier than running for real. "I'm always out of breath sooner than I run out of energy," she says.

More inexplicably urgent traffic proposals from the 50s

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As it is now
  The city desperately needed four new elevated overpasses in May 1959 or else the head of Traffic Director Jean Lacoste might have exploded.
   The fancy, curvy thing pictured above was proposed for the what's now known as Jean Talon and Winter Coat (Cote des Neiges), although it was then described as Namur, which no longer goes anywhere near Cote des Neiges.
  The four "grade separations" as they were called, would have cost the city $9.5 million.
  The other three supposedly-required structures were at St. James and St. Remy, Bridge and Wellington and a last one at Cote des Neige and McGregor, see link above for illustration on that one.
   

Montreal's demolished neighbourhoods in heartbreakingly sad photo sets

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St. Elizabeth, just south of de Maisonneuve, now demolished for a parking lot for the poor

  In case you hadn't noticed, there are now hundreds of photos newly posted online of Montreal neighbourhoods demolished in the 50s and 60s.
   I find them quite hard to look at, as it's really tragic to see such entirely viable areas crashed down for feeble reasons. There was undoubtedly some element of corruption that was lurking behind the nonsensical deals to eradicate these homes and businesses.
  The sets include one not-great set of pics from Goose Village, an area I've discussed at length on this site and even did a post-graduate essay on. 
   There's another one from the Red Light, the somewhat slanderous name given to a perfectly good area outrageously knocked down for the dumbtastic Habitations Jeanne Mance. (The photo above shows how a neat little street was demolished so that poor people can now park their cars downtown for $5 a month).
   Then there's the Molassesville/ Quartier de melasses area, what's basically the area that was demolished for the ridiculously oversized CBC building and Highway 20's Ville Marie Expressway.     
   I suspect demolishing a nice francophone neighbourhood for the CBC wasn't exactly a great way to curry favour for the Canada brand in Quebec.
  That last set is possibly my favourite, as it really shows the life of an area that hasn't really been discussed much. The area has workshops, a church, cool little stores and kids running around.
   The only feature article I read about that area prior to its demolition focused on the fighting tradition of the area, something that won't surprise you when you see the glares of some of the residents towards the camera. 
   Surely if there had been a famous hockey player or politician that emerged from any of these neighbourhoods they'd be more celebrated.
   Thankfully the tradition of knocking down entire neighbourhoods pretty much came to an end when some hippies took on the developers in the Milton-Park conflict, which still ended in about half of the intended area being razed for the La Cite project. 
   The photos posted by the Montreal archives are the result of the city's Vanished Neighbourhoods, a name which is a whitewash, because these neighbourhoods didn't vanish at all, the residents were forced out and the homes demolished.

Doodle of Montreal artist expected to fetch half a million

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  A little drawing done of Montreal filmmaker/actor/painter/Coolopolis contributor Stephen Lack, who sadly left us for New York after making a coupla cult klassik flicks, has gone up for auction. 
   The drawing, at left, is expected to fetch between $400,000 and $600,000.
   Why?
   Cuz it was drawn by Jean-Michel Basquiat, who was a big deal painter before he died at age 28, whereupon he became an even bigger deal painter.
   The drawing no longer belongs to Lack, so I guess he gave it away or sold it already.
   Supposedly the proceeds of the painting from the Christie's auction will go to San Francisco charities.
   Lack, who was friends with Basquait, explained that the crutch in the corner was a reference to Lack's broken leg at the time.
   Apparently he still has a few more doodles if he ever requires to raise some scratch.
   "I still find things he did in my drawing books from the day. I think of him every day," wrote Lack on his Facebook page.

Smoking can wreck your TV

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  Small claims court, in my view, is a warehouse for the disgruntled who feel scarred by some perceived unfairness meted onto them by the world.
  I've watched many cases and would love to tell you that they're interesting but in fact they're quite sad and generally make people look petty, rental board cases are more interesting if you want to sit around and watch the wheels of justice turn.
  The local small claims court has taken to proceeding in a different way recently.
  Instead of both parties appearing before a judge and seeing their thing decided relatively quickly, the plaintiff now shows up, tells his story and the judge takes note and possibly tells him to submit more documents if required.
   I guess the defendant is then offered a chance to make his case in some other forum but the two no longer sit toe-to-toe. I'll try to figure it out and update this entry with a cogent explanation.
   Anyway one recent case might be instructive to those who seek retribution.
    In Oct. 2010, Laval resident George Bitsanis bought a TV for $2,200 from Centre Hi Fi.
   He complained of fog inside the TV and they came and replaced it with a new one just two days before Christmas. In May 2011 the same problem occurred and they replaced it again. And in October 2011 it happened for a third time but this time Sharp simply refused to switch TVs.
   "Seems like smoke from cigarettes," the technician wrote. The TV required some sorta cleaning but was otherwise functional. Bitsanis didn't have any real argument refuting that claim other than that he had taken to smoking only in the kitchen.
   For some reason Bitsanis was claiming $6,000 from Sharp.
   I don't really get why people do that because it never works.
   In another sorta interesting case someone named Joseph Faraj said that a billing dispute with Fido led to his credit rating to be unfairly damaged, which he considered slander worth $3,000 in compensation. The court said they had no place in dealing with complaints of that nature and dismissed the case. Probably wouldn't have hurt to have known this in advance.

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