When Sudburians look back on Halloween, it’s the treats they remember most. Not the mischief, not the pranks whispered about in the dark, but the simple joy of that cold October night, a pillowcase in hand, and the hum of neighbours’ laughter echoing through the streets.
From reading so many shared recollections, I couldn’t help but notice that either no one wishes to remember the tricks played on them, or no one wants to admit to playing tricks in their youth.
In a city shaped by the mines and smelters and the families who grew up in their shadow, Halloween was one of the few nights of the year when kids ruled the streets. From Coniston to Copper Cliff, from Elm Street to Lasalle Boulevard, generations of children have trotted door-to-door in costumes cobbled together from the family attic or borrowed from the current pop culture phenomenon of the day.
Together, the stories paint a portrait of a slice of Sudbury childhood filled with fun, frost and the unmistakable laughter that comes with collecting candy under the glow of streetlights.
Homemade Costumes and the Candy Trail
For Robert Philion, growing up on Oak Street in the 1950s meant one thing: Halloween was homemade.
“In our basement, all we had was a clown uniform,” he remembered, “or if you didn’t use that, you made up some type of disguise with our parents’ old clothes. Being a pirate or a cowboy was pretty popular then.”
For others, he recalled, a simple mask created with black paint was enough, “like Zorro was popular also.”
Philion and the Rubics, the family down the street, would race from door to door, pillowcases slung over their shoulders. “You had to hustle if you wanted a lot of candy,” he laughed. “Many houses were not open for Halloween. (But) from one year to the next the same people gave the same stuff so you knew where to go.”
Of course, there were rituals that followed the collecting. “When I got home,” Philion said, “I was so excited I would put my head in the pillowcase and classify my candy.”
And, even parents had rituals that some of us adults have been known to follow to this day. “Usually,” he writes with a touch of disappointment even after 70 years, “the candy disappeared while I was gone to school somehow.”
Janice Sharp Winn remembers her father’s enthusiasm in being gifted all of her unwanted treats. “My dad would get all the peanuts, lots of apples and toffee candy.”
Others recall very similar nights of craft and wonder. In preparation for the big night, “most of us made up our own costumes, not bought,” said Pauline Terrick. And, instead of the prepackaged candy that has become the norm, some people gave from the heart (or the kitchen) when the ghouls and goblins came to the door.
“Some neighbours gave baking,” she remembers, “cookies, Rice Krispie squares.”
Carole Larrett remembered that children would have everything they needed around the house to costume themselves. “We had a trunk in the attic that we used to make up our costumes,” she wrote.
Claire Chartier Blaseg said much of her Halloween costumes (along with “Most of my clothes”) came from fabric purchased at Silverman’s downtown.
Growing up in a community so closely tied to the mines, Halloween costumes often reflected the world around them. Janice Sharp Winn remembered that “most of my friends were dressed as miners, since most of our dads worked for Inco, so we had the costume. Great times.”
For Petra Casas, the magic of independence came with the freedom to shop. “Loved Woolworth’s,” she said. “As I got older and was able to go downtown on my own (and) I remember buying a C-3PO mask for Halloween.”
And for Gerry Philion, Halloween wasn’t just about candy; it was about recognition for his costuming prowess. “I was six years old when I won best Halloween outfit as a homeless man,” he recalled. “I got a very nice watch I still have 45 years later.” That contest, held at the Grand/Empire Theatre, remains one of his fondest Halloween memories.
Treats and pillowcases
The treats handed out on Halloween through the years have also told their own history. Starting in the 1950s, they came in paper and tin foil, small and specific to the season, sold at the local supermarket or department store.
“What was popular,” said Robert Philion, “was that we had Halloween candy specifically made for Halloween. You got suckers and wrapped candy and maybe a bag of chips. Chocolate was given also.”
Darren Carlyle remembers a particularly strange treat from the 1970s: wax “harmonica” candy filled with flavour. “You would play them and then chew on them,” he laughed. Lori Khoury chimed in: “Yesss! I can still remember the taste of the wax.” While Adam Spindler, less charmed, simply said they were “revolting.”
For many, a pillowcase was more than a bag, it was a symbol of treat collection. Richard Carrey recalled his route through Whittaker Street and Eyre Street, where “that area was a two-pillowcase-full of candy (spot) back in the ’50s.” Wendy Berkowitz added, “(I still have) fond memories of Halloween and chocolate milk in my pillowcase.”
Bonnie Lyn remains excited at the thought of chocolate milk handed out on Halloween, specifically by Copper Cliff Dairy. “The best!” she said. Margaret Niemela added that she “liked getting the little boxes of Chiclets gum.” And Sy Desloges remembered racing to Dr. Kosar’s house in Coniston, “because they always had candied apples.”
And though most kids dreamed of sugar, some got a taste of the unexpected. “I remember KFC (on) Kathleen gave a piece of chicken for Halloween,” said John Kruk. While Brenda Lawrence remembered, “The one on Lasalle did as well, then Harvey’s next door gave fries. Those were the days!”
Tracey Verellen’s favourite stop around the late 1970s or early 1980s was Golded Pizza on Kathleen Street. “I remember at Halloween they would give out little square pieces of pizza. I thought that was just the best thing.”
And, if fast food wasn’t your favourite Halloween bonus treat, there was always one of the local mainstays, Cecutti’s. For Rita Delongchamp-Osborne, it was her “favourite place to go on Halloween night!!!!”(exclamation marks of excitement are hers).
Every neighbourhood had its legend — the house that gave something special, something homemade, or something hot. Even now, as the era of wrapped chocolates has become the norm, the home(s) that give out a treat so special that it is remembered the next year remains.
Meanwhile, in Coniston, Cathy Zinger remembered Mrs. Helen Hayden, wife of the public school principal, who added a twist to the evening. “She used to make you sing or dance before you got your Halloween candy. My brother refused to go to her house, but in the early years when he had to drag me along with him I insisted he wait while I went there.”
For many, downtown Sudbury was the centre of costumed dreams. In the 1970s and 1980s, the city’s nightlife joined in. “Halloween parties downstairs at the Peter Piper Inn with smoke machines and lights,” were a big thing, remembered Juliette Mills. “It was magic.” While Claire Beare still laughs at CHNO’s radio antics. “‘The monster that sucks on your face contest,” she wrote, was “too funny!”
As for the younger folk, in the mining towns that dotted the region — Creighton Mine, Copper Cliff, Coniston — company life shaped community life. And on Halloween, that meant parties for the kids.
Balloons, orange streamers, and paper witches transformed the halls where miners usually met for paydays and New Years dances in a spooky paradise for youngsters. “At Halloween, the company put on a party for the kids at the Employees Club,” said Terry Dupuis.
For Gienek Ksiazkiewicz, it was the people of Creighton Mine that stuck out. “It was the kindness of the people in Creighton Mine on Halloween that I remember most.”
Carol Johnson, who trick-or-treated in Lively during the 1950s and 1960s, remembered the freedom (with boundaries) of the time. “Our parents never went with us,” she said, “but we were not allowed to cross the highway from our 11th Avenue house.”
Unfortunately, not everyone embraced the day with equal enthusiasm. For some, Halloween occupied a complicated space between fun and faith.
“I went to Notre Dame de la Merci,” recalled Corinne Read. “There was never any mention of Halloween. It is a ‘pagan holiday’. We did trick or treat, though. The next day was a school holiday — All Saints’ Day. We went to mass in the morning.”
Some readers’ memories shone brightest in their small details — the laughter, the teamwork, the sense of community. “When we were kids,” remembered Christmas Carol, a member of the Sudbury Then and Now Facebook group, “before the days of poison and needles in treats, our family of four kids would sit around the dining room table and each kid had a function. We would put candy kisses, a peanut, a sucker, and a gum in a treat bag and twist it closed. We always made 200 treats per year … It was very cool. I enjoyed that more than you can imagine.”
She added, “We made our costumes or my mom made them. It was a great time every year. It was fun and safe, and even though we knew none of the treats were sabotaged, my mom tested her favourites to make sure.”
Her street, she said, was full of kids the same age. “We lived on a safe street and knew everybody. Every year I would bring my UNICEF box and bring it back to school full to the brim. That was very rewarding.”
And speaking of UNICEF boxes, my father recalled carrying one around on his Halloween rounds in Coniston. And, when trick-or-treating was done for the evening, all the children from his school would gather at the English Parish to drop off the money they had collected. For their efforts, the kids were rewarded with cookies and steaming cups of hot chocolate — a sweet ending to a night of excitement and community.
The tricks we don’t tell
Even in a city that appears to prefer to remember the treats, a few tales of mischief survived to be told.
A tale from Copper Cliff shows that Mischief Night was very much alive, especially when disaster struck the flag in Nickel Park. “I remember the flag in the park being set on fire on the night before Halloween one year,” recalled Terry Korz, a memory that still sparks disbelief decades later.
A reader on our website, Toire, relayed one such tale (from an anonymous acquaintance) about a cranky shopkeeper on the corner of Albinson and Haig, across from the Caruso Club. “The owner could be rather crotchety and short-tempered with kids when they came in to buy candy with allowance money,” the story begins. “At the time some candies sold two for a penny, and it could take time to fill a ten-cent bag.
“One day, which just happened to be October 31st, the kids had had enough of being yelled at. Those were the days of outhouses — and you guessed it! After closing up the store, the owner headed to the outhouse and the kids went into action, tipping it over.
“Unfortunately, the honey wagon was not due for a few days, so it was a pretty messy sight to behold. The kids ran for home, and neighbours, terrified by the yelling and screams, called the police, and then were enlisted to help right the structure & release the rather portly owner. The culprits were apparently never caught. Let’s all be thankful for flush toilets!”
Judith Thomson Maki recalled a memory that could have come straight from a ghost story. “Halloween pranks through the dark, spooky church — the original St. Andrew’s — at night.” For many children of the time, the church’s shadowed halls and creaking floors offered the perfect backdrop for harmless scares and mischievous adventures. It wasn’t about causing real trouble, just the thrill of darting through the dark, hearts racing and sharing whispered laughter with friends as they tiptoed past the pews and candles.
And, for one final trick, let us go deep into the history of Sudbury. History buff Terry Closs recalls a legend from Stephen Fournier’s “Golden Ball Store,” (at the corner of Elm and Elgin Streets) named for the immense golden ball perched on its gable. “Old timers may still speak of it as the Golden Ball Store,” Closs noted, “though the ball mysteriously disappeared one Halloween and was never seen again. Frank Muirhead was accused of being the saint who spirited it away (though) rightly or wrongly, I cannot say.”
Well, dear readers, as the porch lights dim and another October has drifted into memory, perhaps it’s worth tipping our hats (or our clown wigs) to the ghosts of Halloweens past. So here’s to candy memories that never die, to costumes that still mask the years, and to a city that knows how to keep its treats (and its tales) alive long after the last pumpkin’s light goes out. See you again in two weeks for another stroll down Memory Lane.
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.