PART 3 - 1968

 

In Part 2 I ended the story with the end of 1969.   However, I had not included all of the adventures that basically arose from 1968 and beyond.  I would remiss not to account the adventures during that time.  While the “Victorian Club” was one of my most favourite experiences, it was not the only escapade in which I was involved.

 At the end of Grade 13, I had finally smartened up (at least a little).  I realized that I would have to attend university, if for no other reason to prove my parents wrong and to become the recipient of a promise that my parents made to me when I succeeded in going to summer school most years – that being, if I was to get into university they would acquire a car on my behalf.  It was a promise that they never expected to have to fulfil.

 So after getting the lowest grade in Ontario in a physics exam in grade 11 and the lowest grade in chemistry in grade 12 (they were provincial exams and I received an interim grade of 5 and 26 respectively.  I passed each course at the end with a mark of 50) I took physics and chemistry in grade 13 and received marks in the 70s.  It really aggravated the teacher who thought that I had gone crazy by taking his courses.  The only course that I had to write a final exam in was math since I was exempted in all the other courses.

 I had arranged with my friend Jeff to enter into a business arrangement for the summer.  He had the idea that we could rent a repossessed ice cream truck from Neptune Finance – they had a grave yard of ice cream trucks that they repossessed.  They agreed to rent it to us for the cost of $100.00 per week.  We next decided that driving around in an ice cream truck would not be the best way to earn revenue, so we made an appointment to meet with Victor Campeau who owned most of the property at the waterfront, particularly the parking lot adjacent to the entrance to the Toronto Ferry Terminal.

 We were able to get an appointment and the two of us showed up at his office at Yonge and Dundas, in an office that seemed humungous.  We told Mr. Campeau of our request to park the truck at the entrance of the pathway to the Ferry Terminal.   He thought it was a great idea wished that he had thought of it himself.  Anyway, he told us to get back to him when we had $1500.00. 

 That amount of money was way outside of our resources.  So, not being smart enough to know better, we asked Mr. Campeau if we could park two trucks for the same price.  I recall him needing a glass of water to collect himself after his laughing episode.  He agreed.

 Jeff met up with someone he knew who actually had an ice cream truck and they were happy to take the second spot.  We made sure to get the first spot at the entrance of the walkway.

 Now all that we had to do was each come up with $375.00.  I don’t know where Jeff got his funds, but in my case, I begged and borrowed from all my relatives who were happy to loan me the money secretly hoping that I would fall flat on my face.

 The next order of business was to obtain a tuberculosis test from the Gage Institute whose xray machine was almost as big as the screen at the Rogers Centre (previously SkyDome).  I took the xray and waited for the results.

 We then had to have the truck serviced so that it would have running water to comply with health department requirements.  Coincidence provided that my next door neighbour owned or worked for Lambert Plumbing.  He spent two days overhauling the plumbing which ultimately had water flowing from its taps – at a drop a second.

 The truck was then taken to the dairy at Spadina and College where a health inspector went over the truck in detail.  He turned on the tap and water flowed.  I recall it was the last time the plumbing actually worked!   We were given a permit and we were in business.

Back to the examinations.  On the Friday before I had to take the Math exam, I received a mimeograph letter (that was way, way before photocopying) from the Gage Institute which basically indicated that I had markings on my lung and I showed see a doctor immediately.  As change would have it, the mail was delivered at 4 o’clock and my doctor was nowhere to be found.

 My mother forced me into the car and we drove to Branson Hospital.  The letter was shown to an intern or resident who proceeded to tell my mother that it might not be tuberculosis.  It could be lung cancer at which my mother required medical attention.  Further xrays were taken.

 I spent the weekend doing anything but studying and bombed the final exam which led to another summer mornings at summer school.  This did not interfere with the ice cream business whose busy hours generally started in the afternoon. 

 Anyway, it turned out that the xrays showed some scars from bronchitis and I received a 90 in math at summer school.

 The first weekend that the ice cream business was in operation both Jeff and I were able to pay back our lenders in total much to their absolute amazement.

 We spent the summer entertaining visitors to the Chin Picnic and Caribana.  It was a gold mine.  And the truck did not need to move particularly since it was guarded by police patrols paid for by ice cream.

 I did get into University but that is another crazy story……

 

Part 2 – the next ten years

 In 1959 my parents moved us to the northern part of Toronto, in what was referred to as Bathurst Manor.  It was a culture shock in that the subdivision was made up mostly 3 bedroom houses on streets with no curbs and just built schools.  I went to Wilmington Public School just around the corner from our house, and then Dufferin Heights School down the street and finally Mackenzie Collegiate about a mile away.

 I think I was in grade four when I started at Wilmington Public School.  It was for the most part filled with kids just like us.  It was almost a parochial school since the entire neighbourhood was filled with Jewish individuals.  There would be the odd individual who would be classified as Italian, Greek or Black.  But for the most part we were all Jewish and expected to become doctors, lawyers or accountants.

 I wasn’t quite the genius that I had been at my previous school.  I was coming into my own by exercising my skill at getting into trouble.  In grade 5 I made the unforgiveable error of throwing a snowball.  It hit someone and I then experienced the dreadful strap.  One hit on my right hand.  I don’t recall crying and I definitely didn’t tell my parent.

 Over sixty years later, I had the opportunity to relating the story.  My wife thinks that I am great at exaggerating, but my recollection is always reality at least to me.  The story is that we were at a dinner party involving 8 people.  During a conversation I mentioned that I had once been “principled” (we were discussing chiropractic – you have to be a chiropractor to understand the irony).  I mentioned the incident.  A woman asked me which school I went to, how old I was and in what grade it happened.  She then proceeded to show everyone the small scar over her eye where I had hit her!!  Scary.

Through my first ten years I had some interesting experiences which sometimes led to either me or my brother having to be taken to a hospital.  It wasn’t as if I wasn’t going to catch him when he let go of the swing bar while hanging upside down.  It was just that something else must have caught my attention.   Or I didn’t mean for a nail to go right through my foot when jumping off the synagogue building while they were building it.   I also didn’t mean to knock out a front tooth when playing in the back yard or falling off the veranda but likely stopping the fall with my head!

 And when I wasn’t getting into physical adventures, I found time to partially blow up the light in the dining room.  But honestly it wasn’t my fault when I continue to wonder why my father would buy his delinquent son a chemistry set.   I had put in a number of chemicals into a vial and put a stopper on the vial.  Once I heated the vial and it blew up I knew my future was not in chemistry or bomb disposal.

 Another of my misadventures involved testing the warning never to barbeque in a garage.  It turned out to be a two alarm fire – but only one fire truck was necessary.

 While at Mackenzie I was not exactly an exemplary student.  I visited summer school a few times.  I would receive 40 in one or two subjects, go to summer school, and end up with an 80 or higher grade just to satisfy my parents.  When I finished law school and stood on the dean’s list my mother wanted to know why I had to go to summer school while in high school.  I told her it was because I didn’t have to get a summer job.  The answer was understood but not appreciated.

 I ended up being suspended only twice in high school.  Once for swearing in the hall.  The vice-principal said that he was suspending me for “habitual swearing”.  He did not appreciate my defence that he had only caught me once.

 The second time involved a trip to the vice-principal’s office who asked me why I had missed a number of days at school.  I told him it was for religious reasons.  He told me that almost the entire school was Jewish and he knew what holidays involved a day away from school.  I defended myself by indicating that I took off “all” religious holidays even the most rare religious holidays that might involve a dozen or so people.  He said he was giving me another 3 religious days away from school.

 My last high school adventure involved my being somewhat jealous of the individuals who were the head of any “club” or the student council and could as a result provide an announcement over the PA system of Fridays.  Partly because of that I along with two other individuals started the Victorian Club.  I made the announcement every Friday that the club was meeting at 7 pm. at its usual location and guests were welcome to attend. 

 It was only in the following October that the school learned that the Victorian Club was actually a group of guys going to the Victory Theatre at Spadina and College.  The Victory Theatre was a burlesque theatre before it became more explicit in its productions.  Needless to say we were all under age and even more so, the school did not find a way to revoke our graduation.

 And subject to better recall those were some of my adventures from 1959 to 1969.  Some not all.