April 2000 West Vancouver Historical Society Page 3 MORE MEMORIES FROM MARGARET SAWYER By: Anne Vernon In our last issue we shared Margaret ((Hilbom) Sawyer's memories of her early days in West Vancouver with you, treeclimbing, rock-hopping, log-jumping and roller skating on Marine Drive where there were so few cars that the children really were "Kings of the Road". Children's advertures in those early days were almost straight out of "Anne of Green Gables"! Now Margaret takes us with her on her trips to Vancouver. Travelling over to Vancouver city was an exciting event. Scrubbed and shiny we rode to Ambleside on the blue Bus (10 cents) to board the commuter ferry (10 cents) for the one-half hour trip to the foot of Columbia Street. The only ferry that is still aound, I believe, is the Bonabelle, now used as an excursion boat. I recall the time a contest was held at our elementary school in the 30's to name this new ferry. The prize of $5.00, a goodly sum in those hard times, was won by Bonabelle Barbour. Travelling on the ferries was always an adventure . We loved to sit on the deck outside the engine room so we could admire the polished brass and the rhythmic chug of the engines. It could become pretty rough passing through the First Narrows, but never do I remember being frightened. ...At least we had our own theatre in the village... On the Vancouver side we would hurry up to Hastings Street along Columbia to catch a streetcar. Ade in later years, when we travelled alone, we heeded the warnings of our Mother, "Never speak to anyone or even look at anyone". There were veiled references to opium dens and other evils which mystified us but kept us in line. Our visits to Vancouver were chiefly for items such as fabric for clothes. Mother always made my dresses; in fact, I was thirteen before I wore a store-bought dress! Shoes were another reason for the trip across. Most other purchases could be made near home; the Red & White Store just up the street was our main source of staples and meat Twenty-five cents would buy one pound of round steak which Mr. Lettner, the butcher, would grind on request. Fresh vegetables and fruit were obtained from the Chinese man who drove down the back lane weekly. He always gave us a gift of "paper-white" narcissus bulbs every Christmas. Milk and bread deliveries arrived regularly, and so less frequently did the Watkins man and the Fuller Brush man. Our favorite was the ice-man. That sliver of ice chipped from the ice block was more precious than today's popsicle. Indian Mary would come down the lane a couple of times a year with beautiful baskets piled high on her back. Mother would always offer her a cup of tea, even though she didn't make a purchase each visit. The first time I saw a man with a turban on his head was the day a load of slab wood was delivered, and I hid behind the curtain to view this strange sight. In the wintertime, and in those far away days, we seemed to get lots and lots of snow, we were never lacking hills on which to toboggan. We had no indoor rinks for skating and had to travel that tremendous distance to Hastings Park by bus, ferry and streetcar to take advantage of the undercover skating. With no indoor swimming pool we again went by bus, ferry and streetcar to Vancouver and the Crystal Pool. At least we had our own theatre in the village. It was the most popular place on a Saturday. A balcony filled with squirming kids with peashooters kept the poor attendant very, very busy. The Saturday afternoon matinee was jammed as we followed the Dick Tracy and Tarzan serials. The ten cent admission gave full value. During the evening movies in the war years, the sound of steel needles knitting socks for the boys overseas could be heard throughout the theatre. Some of the more skilled ladies could "turn a heel" in the dark. So much more to recall. Wonderful lazy summers spent on Dundarave Pier. The Regattas. May Day, perhaps the most anticipated holiday barring Christmas. Expeditions up Hollybum for picking those special wild blackberries (in competition with black bears). And school. Each year, starting in Grade One, holds a unique memory. How many times have I examined my old school photographs and wondered about each of my fellow classmates? Of one fact, I am sure .... every single one of them would hold dear those "small village: days we all knew back then."