Glaude worked at the LCBO from May 1968 to August 1970. The building, he recalls, was similar then to what it looks like today – at least on the outside, perhaps minus the murals. A number of area landmarks were already there, too, with the store located across from the Bell Canada building, near the Caisse Populaire, and down the street from Assumption Church and its surrounding houses.
Inside, however, the store operated differently. The front was an open space, with store products listed by categories on boards mounted on tables. Behind a U-shaped counter that ran the width of the store, bottles of liquor and wine (there was “no beer back then”) were stored on shelves, called bins.
Customers would fill out orders on a form, noting each product number, then sign the form and bring to a cashier behind the counter, where, as Glaude explains, “one of the most efficient clerks (that was me, in case you didn’t guess) would pick up the form and the accompanying sheets of paper and proceed to walk around the back of the store – the area where the bins were – picking up the items listed on the form and leaving the appropriate sheet of paper in the bin for inventory control.” Recording what went in and what went out was key; each day ended with clerks carrying out a reconciliation of every bin, “number of bottles in / number of bottles out.”
Today, perhaps large-format LCBOs hold some appeal, but one can’t replace the smaller, arguably classic LCBO storefront. In fact, the continuing appeal of the neighbourhood liquor store is evident in common hopes espoused by Beechwood area residents (just a few short blocks north), for an LCBO to open in a new development (perhaps an idea second in popularity only to a hardware store). For now, the Montreal Road store attracts clientele from area neighbourhoods – including New Edinburgh, Rockcliffe, Overbrook and others – enabling residents not only to purchase wine, but also perhaps fresh flowers from a sidewalk vendor, or even a pair of slippers from the Slipper Man, whose story was so warmly told recently by Maria Cook.
When Glaude worked at the store, however, the Vanier location was even more of a destination, serving as an “all brand store” – the only one in Ottawa – carrying all products found in the LCBO inventory and offering the services of two wine consultants. Glaude recalls even Mario Bernardi, the founding conductor of the National Arts Centre Orchestra in 1968, coming to purchase his wine. With its licensee section, restaurants and bars would also purchase their wine and spirits.
Glaude has fond memories of his time as a clerk. He remembers the 1968 SAQ strike and the many Gatineau residents who “would flock in droves to buy De Kuyper gin - it would literally fly off the shelf - and French wine. One young man, a university student, would come in once a week and purchase a few hundred dollars worth of wine that he would load into his Volkswagen Beetle – he had taken out all the seats but the driver’s – and then head on out to the Laurentians to deliver to the many restaurants in that area.”
But he also remembers the camaraderie among the “great bunch of guys to work with” – a camaraderie that is evident in the story of Glaude’s departure. While having been back in Vanier since 2000, Glaude left in 1970 to assume a teaching position at École sécondaire Confederation in Welland, Ontario. Staff ordered him a bottle of 1964 Château Haut-Mazeris, a wine from Bordeau’s Cano-Fronsac region. “It was the last bottle of that vintage year.” It was so special, he held on to it. As Marguerite Beaulieu, Glaude’s wife explains, “Maurice still has that bottle. It was never opened. We talked about opening it when Martin was born, but, for whatever reason, did not. Now, it’s probably turned to vinegar, so it will stay corked.”
But it retains its place of pride, and sits as a sign of happy memories, in the liquor cabinet of Maurice and Marguerite.
(Mike Bulthuis)