In 1958 we moved out of our decaying old house and into a brand new 14 storey apartment building that had been built just the other side side of our backyard fence. This move was quite a step up in the world for us due to the fact that we now had a refrigerator (as opposed to an icebox), heat coming from a radiator (instead of shovelling coal) and really cool elevators to ride up and down in (instead of, you guessed it, stairs). But the biggest thrill of all was the great big shiny new bathtub which we, along with about 90% of the other Cabbagetown residents, had never owned before. Prior to this, taking a bath meant a trip over to the Public Bathhouse on Sackville St. and paying 5 cents for the pleasure of cleaning up. Unfortunately for me I fit into a large galvanized steel tub (made by General Steelwares which was right around the corner at River and Gerrard) so I didn't get to go there very often, and that was a shame, because that place was a hoot for kids. After all, what normal red blooded kid doesn't love splashing around in water, even if it meant having to fork over a nickel that could have bought a ton of candy, and then actually having take a bath?

I went to Park School, except for a horrible two year stint at Regent Park (Grades 5 and 6). Regent Park school was brand new at the time and had imported their teachers from "Nice Neighbourhood Schools" that had never dealt with kids that were quite as wild as we were. Most of these teachers had absolutely no sense of humor, so some of us spent half the school year in the Principal's office. All of my friends went to Park, St. Pauls, Regent Park, Lord Dufferin, Sackville, and a couple of the other schools within the district. Anyone remember Dumb Jarvis?

For entertainment the kids went to movies at theatres like "The Parliament" (Parliament and Carlton), "The Empire" (Queen and Parliament), "The Bluebelle" later renamed "The Gay" (Parliament and Dundas), "The Regent" (Queen and Sherbourne) or "The Eclipse" (Parliament and Gerrard). We had no shortage of local movie houses in the area and there were many more that lined the downtown core which was about a twenty minute walk from my house.

The Bluebelle or Gay, (forget the wisecracks, I've heard them all), was the closest theatre to my home, so I usually went there. This was probably the only show in Toronto to actually have a bouncer for the Saturday afternoon matinee kiddies show. Cause too much trouble and out you went by the scruff of your neck and the seat of your pants. This was the place that started my love affair with movies, especially those cornball old Sci-fi B movies.

Another popular activity was roller skating at Mutual Arena on Mutual Street. This was the original home of the Toronto Maple Leafs Hockey Club before Maple Leaf Gardens was finished in 1932. It was later renovated and renamed The Terrace, but has since been torn down to put in another of the never ending townhouse and condo developments that are sprouting up all over Toronto. Rumor has it that way down below these new homes there is a roller rink all roughed in just waiting for somebody to come up with the cash to finish it.

We also kept ourselves occupied by exploring the areas abandoned houses and factories before they met up with the wreckers ball. These empty buildings were great places to play our favorite games in, like hide-and-seek or tag. They also gave us a steady supply of goodies to furnish and outfit our forts, clubhouses and hideouts. Like a bunch of marauding pack rats, we'd descend on these places scooping up somebody's elses discarded treasures. Broken tables and chairs would be the basic furnishings with glassless framed pictures and outdated girly calendars completing the decor.

Our clubhouses were just simply the underneath of one of the kids backyard porches where we'd nail up cardboard walls that would actually last for a few rainfalls or until a rival group of kids raided it. Ths was a local ritual, if the kids left the fort unguarded, it was fair game for a raid. A raid consisted o f anything from minor thievery to full and total destruction. We could usually determine who was involved by their handiwork. Retaliation was swift and sure and we always left our trademark. We would then move over to another backyard and hope the fort would not be found.

Back then the Don River was an undeveloped area with only the occasional steam train chugging along the railroad tracks. It was also our chance to do the Huckleberry Finn thing, especially when the big kids floated the small rafts up the river from the dry docks down at the Cherry beach area. There always seemed to be a raft tied up under the Dundas St. bridge and we'd float it back down again pretending we were pirates on some exciting adventure. There were baseball diamonds and Riverdale Park a little bit north of the Gerrard St. bridge and just around the corner was Sandy Hill, a great place to play hide-and-seek. Further on up the river was a sandy outcropping in the river called Bare Ass Beach. It was so named because as the trains passed by the passengers would see the kids swimming bare-ass, although in my time we usually had some form of clothing on, not that we didn't moon the passenger trains occaisionally. This place was full of wildlife such as turtles, raccoons, rabbits, foxes, gophers and the even the odd sewer rat. Now there are two roads and a bike path running through there, taming it forever. Not that everything was fun and games in the fifties. The fear of The Bomb and Communism instilled into us by the American and, to a lesser extent, Canadian governments, was enough to drive anybody crazy, especially impressionable young kids. It was easy to get scared back then, after all, World War II and the Korean War were just barely behind us. Pictures of the aftermath and rebuilding of Europe were always on the TV. Just about everybody knew at least a few people that had been in on the action or, in a few rare cases, someone that didn't even make it back. My Brother was on a Royal Canadian Navy minesweeper during the last year of the war.

Living in Toronto gave us the opportunity to pick up the three Buffalo, New York television stations as well as our two or three local Toronto stations, for a grand total of five or six. American TV constantly had Civil Defence test patterns with a nauseating audio tone for a minute or two with a warning at the end that went something like this: "This has just been a test of the Civil Defence Network, had this been a real emergency you would have received instructions from this station" If it was a real emergency it might go something like this: "We are under nuclear attack, please go into your bomb shelter and tune your battery operated radio to a Civil Defence station for further instructions". Or probably better still: "Sorry folks, but the atom bombs are on the way, your instructions are to sit down calmly and place your head firmly but gently between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye."