Christmas In Bracebridge, 1960's and 70's; The Spirits That Watched Over Me

Muskoka Winter Scene. Fred Schulz Photo

BRACEBRIDGE DOWNTOWN, CIRCA THE LATE 1960'S - NOW THAT WAS A STRETCH OF OLD-TIME, MEMORABLE "I WISH IT WAS BACK," COMMERCE

THE MERCHANTS WHO TOLERATED "THAT CURRIE KID." I WISH I'D THANKED THEM FOR THEIR PATIENCE

     ALTHOUGH OUR OFFICIAL RESIDENCE, OR MAILING ADDRESS, IS HERE IN GRAVENHURST, AND OUR STOREFRONT IS ON THE MAIN STREET, WE STILL FIND OURSELVES SPENDING A LOT OF TIME DOING BUSINESS, ON BRACEBRIDGE'S MANITOBA STREET. ONE OF MY FAVORITE AND FAMILIAR PARKING SPOTS, IS OUTSIDE THE LUMLEY FAMILY'S "PRECISION MUSIC," STORE, ON THE SOUTH SIDE OF CHANCERY LANE. ANDREW AND ROBERT SPEND A LOT OF TIME IN THIS WELL KNOWN AND RESPECTED MUSIC SHOP, BECAUSE OF THEIR OWN MUSIC-INDUSTRY SUPPLY NEEDS; AND I AM THE HAPPY, PATIENT CHAUFFEUR. I DON'T MIND THIS, IF THE SCHEDULE ALLOWS A BIT OF TIME, TO VISIT SOME OF MY FAVORITE HAUNTS; IF AND WHEN I'M INTERESTED IN HUNTING FOR ANTIQUES AND COLLECTIBLES. SOMETIMES, YOU KNOW, I'M JUST IN THE MOOD TO SIT AND PONDER, LIKE THE HIPPY-POET I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE. FOR ME, THIS COMMERCIAL ARTERY, IS A VERY "STORIED" MAINSTREET. I'VE INVESTED QUITE A PIECE OF MY LIFE ON THIS SAME RISE AND FALL OF ROADWAY, FROM THE BRINK OF THE FALLS, TO THE END OF THE MAIN DRAG, WHICH FOR US MOTORING TEENS, IN THE 60'S AND 70'S, WAS PINE POINT GARAGE, AT THE INTERSECTION OF MONCK HILL AND MANITOBA. IT WAS THE HINTERLAND AFTER THIS.
     I INSIST ON A COFFEE AND A MUFFIN AS REPAYMENT FOR SERVICES RENDERED. I WILL SIT THERE, ON THAT FAMILIAR FEW FEET OF THE OLD DOWNTOWN, FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR, AT TIMES, WAITING FOR THE BOYS; YET TIME FLIES BY QUICKLY WHEN I'M HAVING ONE OF THOSE DAYDREAM EVENTS. I LOVE TO REMINISCE ABOUT THOSE DAYS, WHEN I WAS ONE OF THOSE SKIPPING, LEAPING, RUNNING YOUTH-KIND, CAREENING CARELESSLY DOWN THE STREET, BY FOOT OR BIKE. IN AND OUT OF ALL THE GREAT LITTLE SHOPS, I SO VERY FONDLY REMEMBER FROM, THE MID 1960'S THROUGH THE 1970'S. WITH A LITTLE MOZART ON THE RADIO, OR SOMETHING THAT INSPIRES SENTIMENTAL REFLECTION, I WILL BE ABLE TO RECREATE THOSE FASCINATING MOMENTS, WHEN THIS STRETCH OF URBAN COMMERCE, WAS MORE LIKE A SMALL TOWN DISNEYLAND, THAN THE SAME OLD, SAME OLD. I REALLY GOT ATTACHED TO THIS MILDLY "HAPPENING" PLACE. THERE WAS NOTHING EXTRAVAGANT ABOUT IT, OR WILDLY EXCITING. BUT I LIKED BELONGING TO IT, AS A LOCAL RESIDENT. AT CHRISTMAS IT WAS SUCH AN ALLURING PLACE TO VISIT, EVEN IF I DIDN'T HAVE A DIME FOR A POP OR A SMALL PAPER BAG OF BLACK-BALLS; OR A SINGLE REASON OF COMMERCE, TO BE IN THOSE STORES, EXAMINING THEIR DISPLAYS. THEY KNEW I WAS JUST VISITING. THEY KNEW THE KID FROM ALICE STREET DIDN'T HAVE ANY MONEY. AND SOMETIMES, WELL SIR, LOOKING AND ACTING POOR PAID DIVIDENDS. IF I STOOD LOOKING AT THE GIANT WHEEL OF CHEESE, LONG ENOUGH, AT MUSKOKA TRADING, WHICH A CLERK HAD PULLED-OUT FOR A CUSTOMER, THERE WAS A GOOD CHANCE A SMALL WEDGE WOULD BE SLICED OFF, AND HANDED TO ME AS INCENTIVE TO MOVE ON......A NICE WAY OF SAYING WITH KINDNESS, "TEDDY CURRIE, IT'S TIME TO GO HOME."
     I WON'T KID YOU. YOU DON'T DESERVE IT. ON THESE FLASHBACK OCCASIONS, THAT I WILLINGLY CONJURE-UP, THE STREET IS FULL OF GHOSTS. IMAGES I WELCOME INTO MY IMAGINATION. LOTS OF THEM. BUT THEY'RE NOT THE KIND OF GHOSTS TO FEAR. FOR ME, THESE ARE THE PLEASANT ONES YOU WANT TO STEP OUT OF THE CAR FOR, TO EMBRACE ONCE AGAIN, HUG WITH FULL VIGOR, AND CHERISH, FOR THOSE FEW MOMENTS OF STRANGE AND HAUNTING CONNECTEDNESS.....THAT DEFIES EXPLANATION, BUT YOU DON'T ASK FOR ONE.
    AS I SIT THERE IN THE CAR, LISTENING TO SOME UNIDENTIFIED, PLEASANT MUSIC, I MIGHT, ALL OF A SUDDEN, SEE THE BACK OF MY FATHER, AND WHAT I RECOGNIZE AS MYSELF, CLIMBING THE STAIRS UP TO THE DOOR OF THE PRECISION MUSIC BUILDING. BUT IN THIS RETROSPECTIVE, THIS SAME BUILDING HOUSES "IRMA'S RESTAURANT," AND IT MUST BE A TYPICAL SUNDAY MORNING IN DECEMBER, BECAUSE MY DAD IS TAKING ME FOR "THICK TOAST," AND HOT CHOCOLATE, AS WAS OUR DAY-OFF TRADITION. IRMA'S WAS FAMOUS FOR THEIR "THICK TOAST." EVEN WHEN I GO INTO "PRECISION MUSIC," TODAY, WITH ANDREW AND ROBERT, I CAN STILL SMELL THAT HOT BUTTERED TOAST, SERVED TO ME AT THE COUNTER, WHERE KEITH AND CATHY STAND NOW, TO SERVE THEIR CUSTOMERS AT THE SALES DESK.
     WE'D SADDLE UP TO ED'S FRIEND, HARRY RUTHERFORD, WHO ALSO WORKED IN THE LUMBER INDUSTRY, (AS DID MY FATHER), AND THEY WOULD TALK ABOUT THE SATURDAY NIGHT HOCKEY SCORES. ED WAS A DIE-HARD MONTREAL FAN, AND HARRY WAS, IN CONTRAST, BLED TRUE AND HONEST "MAPLE LEAF BLUE." OF COURSE, BACK IN THOSE DAYS, BEING A LEAF FAN WAS MUCH MORE PRESTIGIOUS THAN IT IS TODAY, TO BE HONEST. WE HAD A CHANCE OF WINNING THE STANLEY CUP. OH YES, AND I ALWAYS HAD A LEAF TOQUE AND SWEATER, MOSTLY FOR ROAD HOCKEY PLAY. I LOVED ANY OCCASION TO BE WITH MY FATHER, WHO DIDN'T SPEND A LOT OF TIME AT HOME, BETWEEN WORK, AND SOME OF THE LOCAL DRINKING ESTABLISHMENTS, THAT GOT SOME OF HIS HARD EARNED PAY BEFORE MY MOTHER DID. I DIDN'T LIKE THAT PART BUT WE HAVE ALL HAD OUR FAMILY BURDENS.
     I REMEMBER THE TIME, AT IRMA'S LUNCH COUNTER, WHEN I WAS HAVING A TALL, COLD GLASS OF COKE, INSTEAD OF MY USUAL HOT CHOCOLATE, AND THEN ACCIDENTALLY SWALLOWING, A LARGE CHUNK OF ICE FROM THE GLASS. ED GOT FRANTIC BECAUSE I COULDN'T INHALE. IT WAS LODGED IN MY THROAT. I KNOW HE THOUGHT IT WAS THE RIGHT THING, TO POUR HOT COFFEE INTO MY MOUTH, SCALDING MY LIPS AND TONGUE, THINKING IT WOULD MELT THE ICE. SO I HAD THE EXTREME "HOT-COLD" THING GOING ON, RATHER VIOLENTLY AT THAT PRECARIOUS MOMENT, AND MY GUARDIAN ANGEL TOOK OVER, TO SAVE MY YOUNG LIFE. AGAIN. I'VE HAD MOST OF MY NINE LIVES USED UP. THE DRIP OF WATER AND COFFEE FROM DIFFERENT SOURCES, MADE ME COUGH, AND I RANG THAT ICE CUBE OFF THE COUNTER, LIKE A GUN BLAST, HITTING GLASSES LINED UP ON THE OTHER SIDE. ALONG WITH A SPRAY OF COFFEE. GOOD TIMES. IT WAS JUST NICE TO SIT THERE AND LISTEN TO ALL THE HOCKEY-TALK, AND PEOPLE-WATCH, WHICH I STILL DO TO THIS DAY. I BECAME A REPORTER AND HISTORIAN AT AN EARLY AGE IT SEEMS.
     ACROSS THE ROAD FROM IRMA'S WAS THE MUSKOKA RESTAURANT THAT MY MOTHER LIKED TO VISIT, FOR A LUNCH-TIME TREAT. IT WAS A REALLY NEAT RESTAURANT, THAT EVEN IN THE 1960'S, REMINDED EVERYONE OF A MUCH EARLIER DECADE. I LIKED THE BOOTHS, AND THE FOOD WAS PRETTY GOOD AS WELL. I DIDN'T NEED A LOT OF BELLS AND WHISTLES IN THOSE PLACES, I WAS TEMPORARILY LODGED, UNLESS OF COURSE, I WAS LOOKING FOR BELLS AND WHISTLES SPECIFICALLY. WHICH WAS RARE. EXCEPT AT NEW YEARS. LOCATED BESIDE THE MUSKOKA RESTAURANT, WAS MY FAVORITE COMMERCIAL LOCATION ON THE MAIN STREET. IT MAY BE SAID, THAT MY ANTICS AS A NOSEY KID, TOOK A DECADE OFF BILL ELLIOT'S LIFE. I SPENT MANY HUNDREDS OF HOURS, EACH YEAR, KEEPING BILL'S BUDGIES, HAMPSTERS AND GOLDFISH COMPANY, AT HIS FAMOUS "5 CENTS TO A $1 STORE," WHICH WE ALWAYS CALLED "STEDMANS" OUT OF HABIT. BILL WAS JUST SO DARN ACCOMMODATING, AND A KIND BOSS. MY MOTHER MERLE WORKED THERE, AND SHE ESPECIALLY LIKED BEING IN THE SHOP DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON. SHE WOULD COME HOME WITH A LITTLE GIFT AND BONUS FROM BILL, AND OF COURSE, SOME OF THE PRESENTS UNDER THE TREE, FOR ME, CAME FROM THIS FASCINATING MAINSTREET EMPORIUM OF NEAT STUFF.
     ELLIOTS WAS WHERE I GOT MY EDUCATION ABOUT PERIOD DINKY TOYS, CORGI, LESNEY AND MATCHBOX TRUCKS AND CARS, AS I GLARED THROUGH THE GLASS OF THE LARGE SHOWCASES, BILL KEPT AS THE FIRST MARQUIS DISPLAY OF MY FAVORITE SECTION. MY FOOTPRINTS ARE PROBABLY STILL IMPRINTED IN THE WOODWORK OF THAT OLD FLOOR, WHERE I SPENT SO MUCH TIME, EXAMINING HIS FINE SELECTION OF CHRISTMAS-APPROVED TOYS AND GAMES. WHAT I ALWAYS LIKED ABOUT BILL AND HIS STAFF, MANY WHO HAD WORKED THERE FOR YEARS AND YEARS, WAS THAT THEY LET US KIDS LINGER-ABOUT; HE NEVER GAVE US THE BUM'S RUSH, UNLESS HE HAD REASON TO BELIEVE WE HAD BEEN STUFFING MERCHANDISE IN OUR POCKETS. I RESPECTED THE STAFF, ESPECIALLY MY MOTHER, SO MUCH, THAT IT WOULD NEVER HAVE CROSSED MY MIND, TO STEAL OFF THESE GENEROUS PEOPLE. I WANTED TO MAINTAIN THIS PRIVILEGE OF BEING WELCOME IN BILL'S STORE. JUST NOW, I THOUGHT ABOUT MY OLD ARTIST FRIEND, (AND GAS JOCKEY) ROSS SMITH, SON OF TED SMITH, OF THE POPULAR "UPTOWN GARAGE," AND HOW HE USED TO ARRIVE, ON FRIDAY EVENINGS, IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, TO PICK OUT THE NEW COMICS THAT HAD JUST BEEN SHIPPED TO THE STORE. ROSS WAS A HUGE COLLECTOR OF COMICS EVEN BACK WHEN WE WERE BOTH IN PUBLIC SCHOOL. I CAN STILL SEE HIM SPINNING THE COMIC RACK, AS IF I'M STANDING COUNTERSIDE, CHATTING WITH HIM ABOUT OUR OWN CURRENT EVENTS. I WASN'T A COMIC BUYER BUT I LOVED STATIONARY. THERE YOU GO. THAT'S WHERE THIS ALL BEGAN. I WAS HOOKED ON PEN AND PAPER, AND STAPLERS. BILL ALWAYS HAD A NICE SELECTION OVER IN THE RIGHT SIDE AISLE, AND I HAD DOZENS OF SMALL, NEATLY BOUND NOTEBOOKS, SO THAT WHEN I STARTED TO WRITE MY NOVEL, I WOULDN'T BE THWARTED BY A LACK OF WHITE SPACE TO FILL.
     LOOKING DOWN THE STREET, FROM THE COMFORT OF OUR VEHICLE, I MIGHT VISUALIZE GEORGE ECCLESTONE SR., STANDING IN THE DOORWAY OF THE FORMER ECCLESTONE'S HARDWARE, WHERE I OFTEN SAW HIM ON MY HIKES, UP AND DOWN MANITOBA STREET. I MIGHT SEE RANDY CARSWELL HUDDLED WITH AN OLDTIMER, DISCUSSING THE STATE OF HOCKEY IN TOWN, OR SEE FRED "BING" CROSBY AMBLING UP THE STREET, WITH HIS HEAD DOWN AS WAS HIS CHARACTER TRAIT. BING, AN ASSISTANT TO THE MANAGER, AT THE ARENA, ALWAYS LOOKED FOR MONEY, SOMEONE MAY HAVE ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED. I WAS ALWAYS AMAZED BY HOW MUCH HE FOUND CURBSIDE. I REMEMBER THE DAY HE FOUND A WAD OF BILLS, ON THE STEP OF THE PARKVIEW RESTAURANT, ACROSS FROM THE NORWOOD THEATRE. HE DIDN'T MAKE A HABIT OF ASKING AROUND, TO FIND OUT WHO LOST THE CASH. BUT HE WAS A NICE GUY ALL THE SAME. HE DIDN'T HAVE MUCH MONEY, SO IT WAS AT LEAST GOING TOWARD FOOD AND LODGING.
     AT THIS TIME OF YEAR, I SHOPPED FOR CHRISTMAS GIFTS, AT THE THOMAS COMPANY, FOR CHINA CUPS AND SAUCERS, AND AT THATCHERS GIFT SHOP, (AND PHOTOGRAPHIC STUDIO), WHERE I ALWAYS REMEMBER, WITH MY DAD, PURCHASING MY MOTHER TWO CERAMIC BUSTS OF MOZART AND BEETHOVEN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO THEM. MERLE MUST HAVE PITCHED THEM OUT, ON ONE OF THE MANY MOVES THEY MADE. SHE WAS ALWAYS DOING THIS, ESPECIALLY WITH CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS. ACCIDENTALLY OF COURSE. THE WHITE BUSTS WERE FOR THE NEW WOOD STEREO CABINET, SHE HAD PURCHASED FROM BANKS BROTHERS AUDIO, ANOTHER OF OUR FAVORITE HAUNTS. AFTER WE GOT THE STEREO, I STARTED BUYING RECORDS. MERLE HAD TO SUPERVISE ALL RECORD-PLAYING, WHICH DAMPENED MY ENTHUSIASM SOMEWHAT. "YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK IT," SHE'D YELL FROM THE KITCHEN OF OUR SMALL APARTMENT, (SO EVERYONE IN THE BUILDING COULD HEAR) IF SHE HEARD THE SQUEAK OF THE LID, WHENEVER I OPENED IT WITHOUT SUPERVISION. SO I PROBABLY BOUGHT LESS RECORDS THAN I WOULD HAVE, IF THE STEREO HAD BEEN IN MY ROOM INSTEAD. BANKS WAS A GREAT PLACE TO VISIT IF YOU LIKED RADIOS AND PHONOGRAPHS, NOT TO MENTION TELEVISIONS. I THINK WE MUST HAVE BOUGHT FIVE OR SIX TELEVISIONS FROM THEM. I USED TO BREAK THEM TOO, ESPECIALLY THE TUNING KNOB, WHICH I WAS RATHER ROUGH WITH, BACK IN THOSE DAYS, WHEN IT WAS NECESSARY TO ADJUST THE FOCUS CONSTANTLY TO GET A GOOD PICTURE. THE ARRIVAL OF CABLE MADE THINGS A LITTLE BETTER, BUT I STILL SEEMED HIGHLY SKILLED AT BREAKING WHAT MY MOTHER TOLD ME NOT TO "FIDDLE WITH."
     SOMETIMES, THE BOYS STARTLE ME, WHEN THEY ARRIVE BACK AT THE CAR, OPEN THE DOOR, AND START TOSSING IN THEIR PURCHASES FROM PRECISION MUSIC. THE TIME HAS PASSED VERY QUICKLY, AND WITH A COMFORTABLE SENSE OF NOSTALGIA....NOT ENOUGH TO BRING TEARS, BUT CLOSE. I MISS THOSE DAYS A LOT, AND IT'S WHY I HAVE WRITTEN ABOUT THEM EVER SINCE....SCARED I SUPPOSE, THAT IF I DON'T, THEY WILL BE LOST FOREVER IN THE ANNALS OF LOCAL HISTORY. THESE FOLK-HISTORY, PERSONAL REMEMBRANCES, AREN'T ALL THAT IMPORTANT TO MY HISTORIAN COLLEAGUES. I'VE RAISED THE IRE OF SOME LOCAL HISTORIANS, BECAUSE OF MY PREOCCUPATION, AND PROMOTION, OF WHAT CAN ONLY BE CONSIDERED OF VALUE AS PERSONAL BIOGRAPHY. YET, WHO HASN'T DANCED IN THE CURIOUS REALM OF REMINISCENSE, AND FELT HUMANELY COMFORTED BY THE WARM MEMORIES OF FRIENDS AND COLLEAGUES, NOW ABSENT, FOR ME AT LEAST, FROM THIS DOWNTOWN PANORAMA? WHO ELSE WILL CAPTURE THESE GEMS OF INTIMATE HERITAGE? THESE ARE NOT JUST FOR THE FAMILY SCRAPBOOK. I DUTIFULLY STUDIED THE ACTUALITY OF THESE ADVENTURE-FILLED MOMENTS....THAT WERE TUCKED SNUGGLY IN THE CRADLE OF A CHARMING TOWNSCAPE, THAT MAY BE THE SAME ARCHITECTURALLY, IN THE OLDEST PARTS OF TOWN, BUT VOID IN THE CHARACTER SENSE....FROM THE WAY I REMEMBER IT. THIS ISN'T INTENDED TO BE A NEGATIVE REVIEW OF THE PRESENT DOWNTOWN. QUITE THE CONTRARY. IT IS TO REFLECT, THAT THE SOCIAL / CULTURAL CHARACTER HAS CHANGED PROFOUNDLY. BACK IN MY ERA, AS IT HAD BEEN SINCE PIONEER TIMES, THE BUILDINGS AND BUSINESSES ALONG THE MAINSTREET CORRIDOR, WERE FAMILY OWNED. IF YOU OWNED THE BUILDING, YOU WERE MOST LIKELY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE STORE-FRONT BUSINESS, WHATEVER THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. THERE WERE FAR FEWER TENNANTS AND A LOT MORE MOM AND POP BUSINESSES; AND A FAIR CHUNK OF THOSE FOLKS WERE INTIMATELY INVOLVED IN LOCAL POLITICS, AS WELL AS BEING MEMBERS OF LOCAL FRATERNAL ORGANIZATIONS; THAT WERE MUCH MORE INFLUENTIAL AND POWERFUL, WHEN COMPARED TO THEIR ROLE TODAY. THE COMMUNITY LEADERS WERE WELL REPRESENTED AS MAINSTREET STAKE-HOLDERS. WHILE THERE IS NO SHAME IN BEING A TENANT, IT WASN'T AS PREVALENT THEN, AS IT IS NOW. SOME OF THESE EARLY BUSINESS AND PROPERTY OWNERS, ON THE MAIN STREET, HAD APARTMENTS ABOVE, GIVING THEM ADDED INTEREST IN THE WELL BEING OF THE DECORUM IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
     I DON'T CONSIDER MY RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD TRAVELS AND ENCOUNTERS, WILL EVER BE CONSIDERED SERIOUS HISTORY BY MY CONTEMPORARIES, WHO WRITE BOOK AFTER BOOK THESE DAYS, HIGHLIGHTING WHAT THEY BELIEVE IS THE "REAL" AND "HONEST" CHRONICLE OF LOCAL HERITAGE. I CALL THEM THE "NECESSARIES," AND THE "BLACK AND WHITE HISTORIES." I FEEL THIS NON DIMENSIONAL, BLACK AND WHITE, OF LOCAL HISTORY, HAS BEEN THOROUGHLY EXAMINED, AND ADEQUATELY BROUGHT TO THE PUBLIC'S ATTENTION. I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR WAXING NOSTALGIC, AND PROVIDING A MORE PERSONAL LOOK BACK, ON A TIME, I WON'T ALLOW TO CRUMBLE AWAY, IN THE FADING, YELLOWING MEMORY, OF THOSE WHO PAINTED, SO POIGNANTLY....., THE LIVING COLOR WHERE IT BELONGED; IN THE HUMAN, MORAL STORY OF HOW WE MATURED THROUGH TIME. IN THIS REGARD, THERE IS NO ONE WILLING TO FOLLOW IN MY FOOTSTEPS, ON THIS INTIMATE JOURNEY. I'M GOOD WITH THIS. I NEVER HAVE TO LOOK BACK TO SEE WHO IS SNEAKING UP BEHIND, OR FEEL CROWDED BY MY COLLEAGUES, SQUEEZING FROM THE WINGS. AND IT MAKES MY CHRONICLE SOMEWHAT MORE SIGNIFICANT; AS THERE IS NO PARALLEL, NO DUPLICATE, AND NO RIVALRY. MY CONCEPT OF WHAT SHAPED THE HOMETOWN, IN MANY CASES, DIFFERS GREATLY, FROM WHAT ASSOCIATES CLAIM IN CONTRAST. WHO IS RIGHT? IN MY PERCEPTION, ALL CHRONICLES MUST MERGE, AS THE TRUE DIMENSION OF WHAT COMMUNITY HERITAGE IS ALL ABOUT. WITHOUT THE INTIMACY, SO GOES THE COLOR.
     I'VE ONLY BEGUN TO TELL THE STORY OF BRACEBRIDGE'S HISTORY, AS IT RELATED TO THIS WRITER. SUFFICE THAT THIS INSTALLMENT, IS TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS, AND ITS INHERENT SPIRITS, IN MY OLD HOMETOWN. I HOPE YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR A LESS THAN CONVENTIONAL LOOK BACK, AT WHAT MADE BRACEBRIDGE UNIQUE AND STORIED, DURING THE 1960'S AND 1970'S, MORE FOR WHAT IT DIDN'T HAVE.....THAN WHAT IT DID.
     MERRY CHRISTMAS.