In July 1959, the intersection of Regent and Elm would become the site of one of the most celebratory occasions in Sudbury's history for it was here that I stood alongside with my parents and hundreds of other to cheer on Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip as they made their way through out fair city.
Somewhere in my pack of boxes, I still have the 8mm footage my dad took as the Queen and Prince Philip drove by, and even through I was only four years old, I still remember the excitement in the air as the royal couple made their way by my dad's camera.
Some will say the days of absolute devotion to the Royal Family are ending, but back in 1959 saying anything negative against royalty both in the press and in the taverns would have put you in the doghouse.
Sudbury population between 1959 and 1969 was 36 per cent British, including my own family who came here from the north of England along with thousands of others in search of work. Of the remainder, 33 per cent of the population was French while the rest, 30 per cent, was then classified as "Other".
In 1959, we still flew the Union Jack and sang “God Save the Queen” in school. Speaking of schools, I went to King George VI then later Queen Elizabeth while my cousins went to Princess Anne and Prince Charles, all very British indeed.
Elm Street had it all from family-friendly neighbourhoods in the west end, to the excitement of a vibrant downtown in the east end and in-between a hodgepodge of stores, apartments, a jail, a radio station, hotels and everything else that would make Elm Street a fascinating walk for a young guy like myself back in the late 1950s and early 1960s.
As you continued down Elm from Regent the street was and partly still is, lined by grand stately homes built back at the turn of the 20th century.
These homes starting at Cypress Street with their large verandas on big lots were the homes of judges, doctors, lawyers and other well to-do professionals.
Before the upper middle class moved out to Lake Ramsey, they lived on Elm Street.
One of my favourite homes as a kid was 251 Elm on the southwest corner of Elm and Alder for it had a large wrap around veranda and as a kid it always reminded me of the house in the Disney film “Pollyanna” where Haley Mills character's aunt lived.
When it was first built in the early 1900s, the home was known as the 'Hangman's House' for its close proximity to the courthouse.
Thankfully, 251 Elm still stands today as the Inner City Home of Sudbury and looking pretty much the same as it did all those years ago.
Whether or not the city's hangman really lived there, they were hanging people in Sudbury when I was a kid. Robert Bruce Ducsharm being the last person executed in Sudbury on June 15, 1956.
Just across Alder Street at 229 Elm stands the Elmworth Apartments.
The Elmworth, opened in 1939, was originally built as eight, two-bedroom units with the basement housing a common room, laundry, storage and a one-bedroom apartment for the landlord.
In 2018, the present owners purchased the building from M'Chigeeng First Nation and have been painstaking renovating it trying to restore the original look of the building that I would have remembered.
When I was a kid, the Elmworth had four enormous pine trees out front on Elm Street.
I remember this because even through Sudbury was once called St. Anne of the Pines there were very few pine trees left when I was a youngster in the 1950s and 1960s.
On a recent visit to the Elmworth, I saw that the tall pines are long gone and replaced with equally huge deciduous trees.
Continuing down Elm past more former grand homes you come to the Sudbury Courthouse on the south side of Elm.
While I never saw the inside of the city jail, I believe the fear of being hanged put the fear of God in me. I did, however, see the interior of the courthouse.
I was in Grade 5 and our teacher thought it would be a good idea for a class visit. I remember the whole place being quite opulent with walls covered in wood paneling, plaster ceilings and gold leafing, but what really stuck out to me as a 10-year-old was the entire seriousness of the whole place. No talking, no laughing, no passing notes all that stuff you had to leave outside.
After we made our way into the courtroom itself, we all rose when the judge came in, only adding to the esteem of the place.
However, the case being heard by the judge that day was one of sexual assault and when the victim, a young woman, was brought in the judge asked that we leave and rightly so.
I remember still to this day burned into my memory the anguished look on the victim's face as she turned around and looked me in the eye. I was too young to really know what it was all about, but the terror on her face spoke volumes to this fifth grader.
Across from the street was a small Loblaws store at 176 Elm and while the grocery store is long gone the building still stands and is now law offices.
This was our local grocery store and every Tuesday night was grocery shopping night. My dad worked for INCO and Tuesday was pay-day, so the stores stayed open till 9 p.m., thus off we went shopping.
This particular store wasn't that big even for a five-year-old, but it had everything a family could need.
The floors had wooden planks with the fruit and vegetables at the front, and the meat and fish at the back.
I remember the night this Loblaws closed and we started shopping at the Frood Road Loblaws, and how much bigger the Frood Road store was.
Next door to the Loblaws was the renowned CHNO Radio owned by F. Baxter Ricard and his wife Alma Ricard. The station (now Rewind 103.9) began broadcasting on
June 24, 1947, airing programming in both English and French.
In 1952, the station came under fire when Ricard refused to permit Local 598 of the International Union of Mine, Mill and Smelter Workers to buy airtime for a labour-oriented news program, on the grounds that the program represented "Communist propaganda" for Local 598.
One of the reasons cited was the union organizers wanted to include songs by Paul Robeson and that back then was a no-no (see Part One of my Elm Street story on Robeson's connection to Sudbury).
I remember the heyday of CHNO in the late 1960s when out front on Elm Street cars filled with teenagers would pull up on a Saturday and Sunday night in the summer and the DJ would be on the sidewalk, microphone in hand asking the adolescent youths what song they would like to hear next.
Back then to get your name read live on the CHNO request list was the coolest, hippest and trendiest event in a teenager’s life.
At the corner of Elm and Lorne still stands the iconic Roy's Furniture store. Monique Roy tells me her father, Rhéal Roy, founded Roy's in 1953.
Rhéal was Second World War radar operator who, upon returning to Sudbury, opened his first TV and radio repair store on Louis Street in the old Borgia Street neighbourhood.
What I remember most about Roy's is the music they used in their ads, “The Happy Trumpeter” by Bert Kaempfert.
This jaunty tune which they still use to this day is part of the soundtrack of my youth right up there with Sergeant Pepper's.
Next time, we will continue to explore Elm street, moving east of Lorne and the rise of a bustling downtown.
Since 2020, former Sudbury resident Bruce Bell has written a series of columns for Sudbury.com, sharing his memories of downtown Sudbury in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Back in April, he began a virtually walking tour of Elm Street back in its hey day. You can read that here. For more of his tales, type “Bruce Bell” into the search bar at Sudbury.com.
