The phone rang, my sister answered it, "It's for you" she called out. "Hello" said I. "Hello Shirley" the voice answered. "Who is this," I asked. "Its Harry" … "Harry who?" … "It's Harry from Thursday night." I turned to my sister to ask where was I Thursday night, when it dawned on me. "Oh Harry, Harry from Thursday night." And so it began with more out of curiosity than interest. I never would have guessed at the time that he was to play such an important role in my life, this Thursday night guy.
We met on a blind date. I worked with his friend George Herbert in a clothing factory called Gault Bros. Gault Bros. occupied a building that was part of a long row of tall buildings on Water Street in downtown Vancouver, B.C. That part of town is now a historical area called Gas Town. Gault Bros. was one of the better "sweat shops". I went to work there when I was 16 and met Harry. George was a cutter of denim work clothes up on the 3rd floor of the building. I worked down stairs, next to the elevators, on a long row of double needle power sewing machines and sewed pockets on pants for .18 cents a bundle.
It was piecework, so the faster you sewed the more money you made. I was good at my job and was moved from time to time to machines that sewed seams, or to single needle machines that took care of waist bands and cuffs. It was monotonous, noisy work but we girls kidded around a lot and raced each other in our work. I generally made about $18 a week, which was good wages in 1945. When the Garment Makers Union came into the shop, the price went to 21 cents a bundle. That Thursday night was payday. With the extra money my friend Margaret whom I worked across from suggested we go to dinner and a show to celebrate. At closing time, 4:30 we clocked out.
George stopped us at the time clock and inquired as to where we were going and then asked if he could come and bring his chum along and meet us under the clock on Granville St. in time to see a movie together. In the back of my mind I did not want to meet them because I did not want to have to explain that I had a curfew on a weeknight. Meeting under the clock was a popular place in the center of town near the theater district. The clock stood on the corner outside the Birks Jewelers Building on Granville St. It was a tall, big-faced clock on an ornate post and it was common to see people greeting each other there. In 1987, when we visited Vancouver it was still standing there on the corner like a sentinel.
The 4 of us arrived at the same time and we set off down the street 4 abreast to see the picture called The Life of Dorian Gray. I barely noticed Harry because I was busy talking to George. I presumed I would be sitting with him but found myself sitting next to Harry. The show was just starting, so I did not think about it for long. It was a scary picture and half way through I felt a little more nervous because Harry had put his arm across the back of my seat. I had to sit up straight to avoid contact with him. I thought this was certainly forward of him and I was somewhat relieved when the show was over and I was able to get up and leave.
The boys suggested we go to Morrie's Coffee Shop around the corner for hot chocolate and get acquainted. It was then I learned Harry had been overseas and just recently discharged from the army. I was surprised because I thought he looked so young. Most of those I knew who were in the armed forces were my brothers age group in their late 20's.
It had been Dutch treat to the show. However, they offered to pay for our beverages and we accepted. We could not linger long because I had to catch a certain streetcar on Granville or I would miss my trolley car connection at Hastings and Nanimio St. and would have to walk the 6 dark blocks home alone. Besides, even though I was a working girl I still had to be in by 10 p.m. weeknights or I would be in trouble with my father.
Both fellows lived in the West End of town and Margaret and I in the East End, so we all parted company and I never gave Harry another thought until he called. He made no impression on me what so ever. Perhaps because in the back of my mind I knew he was older and he did not ask for my telephone number. I was not aware then that I made a big impression on him and that he thought I was the prettiest girl he ever saw.
I thought he had a lot of nerve calling me to ask to go out the next night. It was not done that way in True Story Magazines, besides I hardly knew him and so I told him I was busy the whole weekend. This was only part true; I just did not want him to think I was sitting around waiting to be asked out. I promised to keep the next Saturday and Sunday open for him. Then he asked me if he could call me through out the week. I was so excited when I got off the phone. I shrieked at my sister, "I'm going out with an older Man," she told me to quit acting so silly then.
On our first date he turned up at our house on Napier St. in his Father's car. It was a 1937 Chrysler Roadster that his family had named Annabel. It was complete with eisen glass side windows and a rumble seat in back. I was very impressed with that for none of my other boyfriends picked me up in cars, we walked or took the streetcars.
We went to the theatre and afterwards because it was still early, we stopped at a fair that happened to be in town. He bought me my first sugar spun cone called cotton candy and took me up on the big ferris wheel. It was so high it took my breath away. I remember it stopped at the top and the car we were in rocked back and forth and I was a little panicky. He put his arm around me and told me to look out at the city lights. It was so beautiful. I sensed he was going to kiss me but at that moment the car descended downward. He knew I was young and shy.
Looking back, I was apprehensive around him at first because he was not the age of the peer group I was used to being with. He looked young for his 20 years, but he was adult more than I and he wanted a girlfriend to call his sweetheart.
That first kiss came several dates after I'd met his parents. It was just a brush on the cheek as we were saying goodnight on the front porch. Before I could say or do anything he flew down the stairs, and as he swiftly walked away he was whistling a song called Night and Day You Are the One. Did I look forward to that next date? You can bet your life I did. From that moment on I could hardly wait for his phone calls and dates together. He was an honest, polite, easygoing friend to be with. Within the month I really grew to treasure him. I gave up going out with other acquaintances and the gang. He filled my life.
About six weeks after I met Harry my sister's husband Bill died. Harry and I had gone up to the hospital to see him two nights before and as we were leaving Bill took my hand and placed it in Harry's and he told us "You don't know it now but you will spend the rest of your life together." It was such a profound statement coming from Bill who was not a religious man. I never questioned him. It was as if the three of us, at that moment, shared a secret that we knew adventually would come true.
