Reflections from the Swamp
Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC) has officially closed all its remaining stores, ending a 355-year legacy that began with fur trading and evolved into a national department store chain. Many of us have memories of The Bay that go back to when department stores ruled.
I grew up in Calgary’s cloth diaper era (look up dinosaurs), when the population was about 260,000 in 1960. I took the city bus to school (16 tickets for a dollar) when I went across town and had to transfer to another bus at the Hudson’s Bay downtown. All buses met at The Bay on 1st Street West in Calgary.
In the afternoons, I’d get off the bus at The Bay, wander across the street to The Calgary Herald newspaper building, pick up about five complimentary newspapers, and sell them for five cents each while waiting for my bus transfer. I wasn’t the only boy to do so. Several of us would yell, “Read all about it; Churchill died at 90 years old in London”, or other headlines. Sometimes, I would pocket the 25-cent profit, while other times, I would wander into The Bay.
The Bay had everything imaginable. The perfumes and candy counter were near the door. I’d buy some bag candy, usually two or three for a penny, and spray myself with a free perfume sampler on the way out. Weeks after starting the perfuming ritual, one lady kindly pointed out which ones were for men. My siblings would comment on my cologne, especially if it had high sillage, and sit somewhere else on the bus. Irritating my siblings may have been the goal for using cologne.
Women on the bus often commented favourably with surprise on my gratuitously acquired scent, unlike my bride’s comments on my aroma after working in the garden or taking off my wet runners.
Like 90% of the moms I knew, my mother was a stay-at-home mom. Mary got a weekly allowance for groceries and other necessities. Going out shopping was a highlight during a busy week. Mary would leave the nest on Saturdays like a Robin gathering worms for a growing family. She had four kids, so I wasn’t accustomed to new clothes as a middle child. I was shocked to hear my mother’s invitation to go shopping with her on a Saturday, a week before the start of a new school year. Mom divided her dresses into house dresses and going-out dresses. After applying makeup, powder and lipstick, she wore a turquoise dress and a light purple hat. We were going to town. We got on the bus Saturday and headed for The Bay. The year was 1967. I was going into grade seven.
We went to the clothing section, and Mom asked me if I saw anything I liked. Purple denim pants with wide black belts were in fashion. We found a pair with a perfect fit and complemented it with a white golf shirt with matching purple trim. I imagined looking like every girl’s dream. On this occasion, my mother untypically never overruled my decisions or disparaged my choices.
We moved on to the shoe department, where we found a pair of black “Beatle” shoes with pointy toes and fake alligator skin patches on the sides. Finally, we got a pair of “stripes a go-go socks” to complete the ensemble. After some discussion, my mother allowed me to wear the outfit home on the bus if I promised to squirrel the outfit away until the first day of school.
Before going home, we went up another set of escalators to a cafeteria, where my mother had a cup of tea while I had a chocolate milkshake. We both enjoyed The Bay’s way of making shopping an experience. Mom complimented me on how great I looked in my new clothes.
My mother didn’t do any other shopping while at The Bay. I added some free sampler colognes as we were leaving for the bus. We sat together on the bus and talked about the upcoming grade seven school year. Mom told me that she had to quit school in grade six. Being the second oldest of twelve kids (no exaggeration), her mother needed her to help look after the gaggle of little brothers at home. “I’m so proud that you are going into grade seven. I’ll be going with you in my thoughts and prayers. You will grow up with an education and a bright future.”
The shopping trip to The Bay was the only time I remember shopping with my mother as a child. When I was twenty, we went through the whole ritual again while shopping for a suit for our wedding. The second shopping trip didn’t happen at The Bay. Both events are etched in my mind forever.
Although The Hudson Bay is closing forever, parts of the iconic store incorporated in 1670 remain in my memories. The best memories include my mother and our shopping together.
