For many decades, especially in the days prior to the advent of the shopping mall (and much later, social media), one place could be regarded as the epicentre of a community.
A place where knowledge was shared with the public at large. A place where people would meet and share the stories (and the gossip) of their everyday lives.
And, of course, a place where the community could gather in celebration or in mourning. That place was the local Post Office.
Now, in Sudbury, our Post Office (for at least four-and-a-half decades) was a relatively palatial structure which made both its predecessor (a tiny wooden structure one block to the west) and its successor (a grandiose, granite clad ode to sixties bureaucracy, one block to the east) bland by comparison.
In response to our previous column, our readers have shown us that the sum of all of the parts which made up our magnificent post office was so great that even now, 66 years later, those who experienced its grandeur will never forget it (and are more than willing to share its splendour with those of us who missed out).
Many readers who experienced the post office first hand had an experience similar to Leonne Bock’s.
“I remember walking up the hill (it seemed like a very big hill because I was about six years old) at the Frontenac Hotel and seeing this majestic building with its beautiful clocks,” she wrote. “It was quite an experience every time I would go shopping with my parents in the big city of Sudbury.”
Unfortunately, as we learned in the previous column, by 1959, the sun had set on the life of the post office and it was duly replaced by the federal government with a new building at the corner of Lisgar and Elm Streets.
Sudbury history aficionado Steve Ripley added more context to the reason behind the loss of such a beautiful structure after only a short lifetime.
“Sadly, it needed to come down,” he wrote. “Downtown is built on muskeg and that point is close to the original flood plain. When it was built in 1915, they didn't pay enough attention to the foundation and with all the movement and freeze and thaw cycles over its life the structure was badly cracked (which) left no option … It was offered for sale to my uncles, who were running my late grandfather's Regent Theatre next door, but it was a teardown and they declined the offer.”
As reader Marc Pleau commented (a point which I agree with), “It is odd that the only photos of the interior are one from an upper office, and these post demolition photos.”
And, because of this, we must rely on the sensory information relayed to us from six decades in the past. But, our readers' memories are very good at painting us a picture of what we, here in the 21st century, have missed out on.
Reader Linda Rossetto wrote to us about “that beautiful and elegant post office.” To which she added, “I recall the inside as well (though) I was very little then. I remember vastness, a hustle bustle environment, gorgeous oak…and brass!…Everything is so impressive when you’re little.”
While commenting on a photo of the exterior of the building, Jan S. wrote, “When we were kids, we'd take off our shoes, run, and sli-i-ide across the post office's hardwood floors.” (You can really feel the motion from that wording)
Kaireen James Morrison, on the other hand, asked the question of fellow readers: “Does anyone remember going into the post office by the Elm Street entrance and leaving via the Durham Street door?”
Her self-response to this was to share a childhood memory from the early 1940s, of “walking past all the wickets to the other door so we could leave that way…for some reason, it was a bit of a thrill for me to do that then.”
In another reference to the floors of the building (both inside and outside), the late Charles Booth once wrote, “as a child, I remember creaking indoor wooden, uneven floors and chipping concrete steps leading up to the outdoor mail receptacles.”
And, speaking of the mail receptacles, Claire Narbonne-Fortin reminisced that “the first time I used a key was at that post office. Box 12 was my father's business mail box and close to the floor, so I could easily reach it. I was about two years old and this made me so proud!”
In a nod to the “Wild West” feel of very early Sudbury history (which continued into mid-century), Vicki Thurlow “remembers seeing “WANTED” posters on display in the post office when (she) was 8-9 yrs old.”
Another commenter, Roland Bertrand’s memories were tied more closely to the outside of the building, though he did admit a fondness for the interior as well (“The inside was also really beautiful”).
“I loved going to that Post Office as a child and sliding down the banister with the help of my Memère,” he said. “I remember when I was a little kid the railing on the left was so used that in the winter you could slide down it if there was ice or snow. My grandmother would hold my hand and I would slide all the way down. What great memories.“
And he was not the only child to partake in the bannister bobsled event. Claire Narbonne-Fortin “also liked sliding down the outside bannister in the winter, while waiting for the bus after my piano lesson.”
In a departure from the tactile sensations of most of the commenters who experienced the inside of the post office, Donja Jarrett’s memories are tied to her olfactory sense. “Does anyone remember that unique smell of the inside of the post office?” she asked before continuing on with her own comment.
“When l went there with my mum when l was a little kid, that was the first thing that hit me. And how huge it was.” She also added, “the old Woolworth's and Kresge's also had their unique scent. And Silverman's, Eaton's and Muirhead's. Funny what memories stay with you.“
In a final point from one of our readers about the look of the post office, Gerry Dellaire reminded us that the roof of the building was prone to the same effect witnessed at Parliament Hill in Ottawa and, later, much closer to home at St. Mary’s Ukrainian Church. “It was even nicer by the mid 1950's,” he wrote, “when the copper roof had aged to a green colour.”
For some readers, as David Loyst once commented, “the corner in front of the Post Office was the centre of downtown when I was young.”
Daniel Welch remembers that “the Salvation Army band used to play in front of the post office on Sunday nights and then preach afterwards. Also, there were soapbox types who would advocate their particular issues, happened on a regular basis.”
A memory once left by the late Charles Booth concurs with this particular use for the streetscape immediately surrounding the post office. “Old Nick Christakos (the Evangelist) would stand on this corner,” he remembered, “and talk about the resurrection to anyone who would listen...”
Sometimes the post office grounds were the site of events aimed at bringing the community together. Within the archives is a photo from June 1939 of our smartly decorated post office overlooking a crowd gathered in front to await the passage of the King and Queen on their way to the Athletic Field from our far-flung CN station.
Other photos shared of the Post Office include a log sawing competition during the 1947 Winter Carnival occurring at the doorsteps to the building, as well as a “Victory Bond Crash Campaign” with a mockup of a German war plane hanging from the clock tower to mark the funds raised to fight the Axis in the Second World War.
The post office also found itself to be the centre of attention during that most wonderful time of the year.
Many readers such as Wayne Pernu and Steve Campbell have “memories of the Old Post Office…tied to the huge Christmas tree that was put up in front of it every year.”
While Margaret Rouleau added that “at Christmas time they would have a big mail box for letters to Santa, outside the building.”
As Daniel Welch concluded (with one caveat), “the apron in front of the post office was a community gathering place - unless there was a train going by!” (This brings about visions of people yelling “Train” every time, moving out of the way and resuming again after, just like children playing road hockey)
Along with the Post Office proper, a couple of our readers added their own memories of other rooms within the building, which show that it existed as well as a sort of multi-purpose community centre/residential property.
Vicki Thurlow recalls that back in the mid-1940’s “one of the local Mounties had the apartment on the third floor and (her) mom babysat his children up there.“
While Sally Aubut remembers that the Legion had their club rooms in the basement for a time. “‘Ma Culley’ would set up a card table between the entrances and sell tickets for whatever they were raffling off for the Legion,” she wrote.
“My parents were very active in the Legion, (but) my mother did not believe in babysitters, so I was left with all kinds of candies to watch the old vets play pool (known as the British Empire Service League).”
Though the post office disappeared from our landscape with its demolition in 1959, its physical memory lives on in some of the material which was salvaged and reused by local residents.
Daniel Welch reminds us that (as referenced in the previous article), “some of the stone from the demolition was used to build St. Andrew's Catholic Church on Barry Downe Road.”
Gerry Paquette also used some of that stone as keystones on two of his houses. “I got them from an old friend that used them for a path to his backyard and had them cut into keystones.”
And, lastly, the playground of some of the local children was salvaged by others, such as Tom Del Bosco’s cottage neighbour, who “has their cottage floors done with the old hardwood floors they got from that old…Post office building.” He also added that even after all this time, “the floors look great.”
Well, dear readers, this week’s edition of Memory Lane has come to an end. And, it has definitely proven, as Claire Narbonne-Fortin wrote, that “the old post office will always hold a special place in (our) hearts.”
See you here again in two weeks for another trip back through time.
Jason Marcon is a writer and history enthusiast in Greater Sudbury. He runs the Coniston Historical Group and the Sudbury Then and Now Facebook page. Memory Lane is made possible by our Community Leaders Program.