Highlights In The Shadows: 29 - Arriving In Vancouver
Owen Clement and his family arrive in Vancouver. Owen’s first job as a ladies’ garment cutter ends abruptly. “After only a year of working there the owner called me into his office to reluctantly fire me on his wife's instructions. The woman never bathed and smelled of onions, stale sweat and perfume. In agreement with the other workers I had kept opening the windows to let in some fresh air. This proved too much for the odoriferous woman…’’
To read earlier chapters of Owen’s life story click on Highlights In The Shadows in the menu on this page..
On our arrival in Vancouver we booked in to the Alcazar Hotel on Main Street until my parent's could find an affordable house to buy.
My sister Gloria and I decided to explore the city the morning after our arrival. We discovered a Boots Drug Store just down the street. Boots was a well-known American chain often featured in the Hollywood films I so loved. As it was midday, we decided to have a counter lunch just like the Hollywood stars.
My sister ordered a doughnut and milk shake. I ordered three sandwiches and a milk shake. The young waiter asked me if I really did want three sandwiches. I should have been alerted by his query but, as I only expected to get three small triangular sandwiches, I nodded. While waiting for our order to arrive we spotted a jukebox in the corner. Neither of us dared walk up to it and make a selection. We sat in vain waiting for someone else to use it so that we could see exactly how it was done.
When the waiter put down three large plates in front of me each with two rounds of bread a side salad and some French fries I said. "I only ordered three sandwiches!" "That's what you got, Mac." he retorted. My dismayed expression must have evoked some sympathy as he packed up two of the orders for me to take away.
A little over a fortnight after our arrival, my parents bought a house on Balsam Street, a beautiful maple tree-lined avenue in the quiet suburb of Kerrisdale, only a twenty-minute walk to the tramline for a half-hour ride to the city.
During the next couple of months we outfitted ourselves with more suitable clothes, furnished the house and familiarized ourselves with the area. A couple of our neighbours came over to kindly offer their support and help us settle in.
We found it a blessed relief when the Christmas and New Year festivities were over, as the sight and sounds of other people visiting their family and friends on our way home from attending Christmas service at the local church exacerbated our feelings of isolation in an alien town and country.
Early the next year Gloria was enrolled at the local high school while Dad and I began to look for employment.
As is in England eight years before, the only job Dad could find was once again operating a lathe. He accepted his fate and continued using his inventive mind on other projects during those long boring and repetitive hours.
True to my inhabiting a fantasy world, I decided before we arrived in Canada that I wanted to make my carrier in the movies. These ridiculous aspirations soon evaporated with my first and only disastrous attempt as a serious actor with the Little Theatre in Vancouver.
I had the walk-on walk-off role of a flunky in a boxing gymnasium with the half a dozen words of dialogue of, "You are on now Mr. Boneparte". My weird Brooklyn accent brought the only titter from the audience during the whole performance of the very dramatic and tragic play, "Golden Boy" by the American playwright Clifford Odetts.
Back to reality, I began looking through the classified pages of the Vancouver newspapers for a job suitable for my 'artistic talents'. All my parent's and I could come up with was for me to train as a ladies’ garment cutter. As far as I was concerned it was just a job, and it would have to do until something better came along. My work-mates, mostly women, were kind and friendly and I was able to contribute to the family coffers.
After only a year of working there the owner called me into his office to reluctantly fire me on his wife's instructions. The woman never bathed and smelled of onions, stale sweat and perfume. In agreement with the other workers I had kept opening the windows to let in some fresh air. This proved too much for the odoriferous woman. Added to her chagrin, I had refused to model some boxer shorts for her that the company was planning on manufacturing. My feeling of devastation at being fired did not last long as within a week I found a similar job with the Pacific Dress and Uniform Company at a slightly better wage.
Once we were settled, Mum wrote to Bill and Norah in Birkenhead to ask them to please forward the carpets and the sewing machine. Despite many futile attempts to contact them we were forced conclude that we would never hear from them nor see our belongings again. I wonder if Bill had trouble facing himself in front of his mirror each morning when he shaved or did he congratulate himself on a doing a smart piece of work? We were hurt, angry, disillusioned and felt a strong sense of pity for them. The carpets and sewing machine were replaceable but the loss of respect and affection for good friends was quite another thing.
© Clement 2006
