COLUMN: Tales from the Gravel Ridge – Memories of Eaton’s

In its day the family name of Eaton’s was almost in the nature of a well-known family friend. This was most unusual since nobody in the Mennonite community of my childhood had even a remote connection to those of English ancestry or heritage. Families with English family names might be those who employed my eldest siblings. My sisters Katie and Margaret, themselves immigrant children when they arrived in Canada, began working as domestic servants when they were in their late teens and early twenties. The need for such employment was great since there were travel debts to be paid by our parents, incurred by them when they left the country that had been home to them and their ancestors for generations, to seek a new homeland. And so it was that the family name of Jackson become a household name for our family. My sisters had fond memories of that time in their lives. While it was true that they were definitely in a class by themselves so that, for instance, they did not take their meals in the dining room with the family, but rather by themselves in the kitchen, they nevertheless were treated kindly.

In the context of their employment my sisters, and others who were likewise working as domestic servants, were given one day off each week. This provided these young women opportunities for meeting with friends, including spending time in a girls’ home especially designed to be a home away from home for them. It also gave them opportunities for shopping. Before long, Eaton’s became a household name for the young women, and by extension, for our family.

In addition to the store, the Eaton’s company, entrepreneurial as it was, also had a mail order business. If you’re old enough you may remember using the Eaton’s catalogue. Some five decades ago that venerable catalogue, which likely was in every home in my Rosengard community, went the way of buggy wheels and other near extinct phenomena. It’s time had come and gone. Not so the Eaton name however. The Eaton’s store on Portage Avenue in Winnipeg lasted until the Fall of 1999, before it too closed for good. Eaton’s had been a household name for generations of Canadians from coast to coast. It is no wonder then that the financial woes of this family store made national headlines at the time. Its impact on Canadian society would make an interesting sociological study. Even the rather isolated Mennonite community at Rosengard was fully aware of this very English sounding name during the years when I was growing up.

When my parents made the occasional trip to Winnipeg, be it for medical appointments or to visit their eldest daughters, their main stop would invariably be at the Eaton’s store. Its location on Portage Avenue was as good a meeting place as any. Indeed, probably better. The large waiting room on the main floor, toward the back of the store was, I am convinced, geared to the needs of rural Manitobans. More specifically, it served the social wants of the ethnic community admirably. At least so it seems to me.

This waiting room, not at all like such rooms in the offices of doctors and dentists, was a congenial place where friends could meet. Indeed that was its purpose. To accommodate its patrons, it even had a lunch counter which served food and beverage quite unlike anything we consumed at home. Eaton’s definitely aimed to please and if the motivation was to attract customers, then it certainly was successful.

If we didn’t make it to Eaton’s very often, Eaton’s nevertheless made it into our homes, come rain or shine. The Eaton’s catalogue didn’t discriminate. It came to rich and poor alike, and as for language differences, the pictures virtually eliminated the need for words.

In some ways it seems to me the catalogue broadened our horizons. It brought into our homes, the latest fashions from central Canada and abroad. Although we might not always be able to buy the things it offered, the catalogue nevertheless made us aware of colours and styles that others deemed right for the season.

Beyond fashion, the catalogue also made available to all of us the items that we needed. Placing an order from the Eaton’s catalogue was a relatively uncomplicated matter. As for delivery, the transfer operator who came to pick up our cream and deliver our mail, also willingly brought the Eaton’s packages.

The Eaton’s catalogue is gone. What we know with certainty however is that in its own way, it contributed to the development of rural Canada. The history of Eaton’s is also part of Rosengard’s story.