Reproduced with the permission of The Hamilton Spectator
Oct. 23, 12:51 EDT
'It's crowded, but God doesn't like a vacuum'
He was a Mountie. She was a nurse. They found happiness in a jumbled kingdom on the Beach Strip called Green Gables.
Paul Wilson
The Beach Strip used to be a glorious place for clutter, especially in those yards that backed onto the lake.
But then the new waterfront trail went through and everybody tidied up. And the lots once occupied by little wooden cottages got sold off to people who are building magnificent new homes. In short, the Beach is getting gentrified.
Then there's Green Gables. On the clutter scale, it's a 10. It would not be wrong to declare it a landmark.
After many decades on the Strip, however, Green Gables itself is getting tidied up. And then it will be gone.
When will this happen? There are two people who can answer that. There's Susan, the ex-nurse, and Bruce, the ex-Mountie. They are Green Gables and they are telling different stories.
"This is the last winter," Susan says. "We'll be gone by spring."
Bruce isn't around. Susan says he won't be keen on talking anyway.
We stop by the next day. Bruce is piling some wrought iron. "There's no big hurry to get out of here," he says. "It could be two or three years. But I'm not sure I want to talk about it."
Turns out he doesn't mind so much. He's proud of this disorderly empire, "but I understand why some people don't like it."
He's proud of his bride too, and hunts around for a picture of how she looked half a century ago. Time has been very kind to her. It is hard to believe that next month she will be 75.
Bruce Schneider is a couple of years younger. He became a Mountie and got posted to Moose Factory.
Sachia (Susan) Mochizuki lived with her parents and eight brothers and sisters in Port Haney, B.C. Then the war came and they were all sent to an internment camp in Kamloops.
Susan became a nurse and went to Great Whale Station. It was in the North that they met. "She was the prettiest thing I ever saw in my life," Bruce says, "really out of the ordinary."
He had been with the RCMP 31/2 years and would have to wait another 11/2 years to get permission to be a married Mountie. Way too long.
So they moved to Toronto and Bruce became a cop there. He and Susan married on Oct. 30, 1955. Then came Mitzi, Terri, Kimiko, Brucie and George.
Five kids change your life. But the big change came in 1968 when they bought Green Gables Antiques from a man named Hans Knudstrup. He'd had it for about eight years. Before that, before the Skyway was built, it was the Green Gables restaurant.
Bruce knew about buying and selling. Susan wasn't so keen on it, not until she bought a French opaline vase one day for $1 and sold it the next for $15.
By 1972, Green Gables was doing well enough that Bruce left the police force and antiques became their life.
If the jumbled front yard frightens some, they'd be wise not to push the old wooden door and go inside. In here, the treasure is packed tight. In places, it reaches the ceiling.
"It's crowded," Bruce admits, "but God doesn't like a vacuum."
There is a large stuffed turkey with a wonky neck. It had been on loan to the Red Green show -- look for Green Gables on the closing credits -- and came back with that injury.
There used to be a wicker wheelchair here, but the Shaw Festival snapped that up. Still in stock, however, are fold-up wooden crates that Eaton's used to deliver groceries, an unopened 1918 bottle of Dow beer from Montreal, snow shoes, lobster trap, tailor's iron, mink coat, bird cage, cast iron hall stand with walking sticks and umbrellas, pre-Second World War hot toddy kettle, ship's lantern, Victorian hat pin holders, spinning wheel, a slew of clocks and brass candlestick holders and one stuffed crocodile that's not for sale.
There was an enormous Victorian hall mirror with built-in bench that they bought at auction 33 years ago for $400. They didn't want to sell it, but the canal lift bridge was closed for repairs for three months last year and the customers just weren't coming. That piece brought $8,000 and got them through the winter.
After all these years, Susan and Bruce have grown weary of the artless bargainer, the kind of guy you'd see driving up to a garage sale in his Cadillac and arguing over a quarter.
Susan, four-foot-ten, all charm, gives that kind of visitor her best. But when she's had enough, she smiles, says, "Thank you, goodbye," and moves on before the lout knows what hit him.
The plan now is to just work with dealers and do shows. So the whole jumbled kingdom is for sale at $990,000. Bruce says that may be too high. There's the shop and the house, but he knows it will all come down. What's for sale here is a 180-foot-wide view of the lake.
Come spring, or whenever, they're bound for the top of the brow in Grimsby. There's a century house there, lots of fresh air and a nice red barn that's bound to fill up fast.
StreetBeat runs Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. pwilson@thespec.com or 905-526-3391
Oct. 23, 12:51 EDT
'It's crowded, but God doesn't like a vacuum'
He was a Mountie. She was a nurse. They found happiness in a jumbled kingdom on the Beach Strip called Green Gables.
Paul Wilson
The Beach Strip used to be a glorious place for clutter, especially in those yards that backed onto the lake.
But then the new waterfront trail went through and everybody tidied up. And the lots once occupied by little wooden cottages got sold off to people who are building magnificent new homes. In short, the Beach is getting gentrified.
Then there's Green Gables. On the clutter scale, it's a 10. It would not be wrong to declare it a landmark.
After many decades on the Strip, however, Green Gables itself is getting tidied up. And then it will be gone.
When will this happen? There are two people who can answer that. There's Susan, the ex-nurse, and Bruce, the ex-Mountie. They are Green Gables and they are telling different stories.
"This is the last winter," Susan says. "We'll be gone by spring."
Bruce isn't around. Susan says he won't be keen on talking anyway.
We stop by the next day. Bruce is piling some wrought iron. "There's no big hurry to get out of here," he says. "It could be two or three years. But I'm not sure I want to talk about it."
Turns out he doesn't mind so much. He's proud of this disorderly empire, "but I understand why some people don't like it."
He's proud of his bride too, and hunts around for a picture of how she looked half a century ago. Time has been very kind to her. It is hard to believe that next month she will be 75.
Bruce Schneider is a couple of years younger. He became a Mountie and got posted to Moose Factory.
Sachia (Susan) Mochizuki lived with her parents and eight brothers and sisters in Port Haney, B.C. Then the war came and they were all sent to an internment camp in Kamloops.
Susan became a nurse and went to Great Whale Station. It was in the North that they met. "She was the prettiest thing I ever saw in my life," Bruce says, "really out of the ordinary."
He had been with the RCMP 31/2 years and would have to wait another 11/2 years to get permission to be a married Mountie. Way too long.
So they moved to Toronto and Bruce became a cop there. He and Susan married on Oct. 30, 1955. Then came Mitzi, Terri, Kimiko, Brucie and George.
Five kids change your life. But the big change came in 1968 when they bought Green Gables Antiques from a man named Hans Knudstrup. He'd had it for about eight years. Before that, before the Skyway was built, it was the Green Gables restaurant.
Bruce knew about buying and selling. Susan wasn't so keen on it, not until she bought a French opaline vase one day for $1 and sold it the next for $15.
By 1972, Green Gables was doing well enough that Bruce left the police force and antiques became their life.
If the jumbled front yard frightens some, they'd be wise not to push the old wooden door and go inside. In here, the treasure is packed tight. In places, it reaches the ceiling.
"It's crowded," Bruce admits, "but God doesn't like a vacuum."
There is a large stuffed turkey with a wonky neck. It had been on loan to the Red Green show -- look for Green Gables on the closing credits -- and came back with that injury.
There used to be a wicker wheelchair here, but the Shaw Festival snapped that up. Still in stock, however, are fold-up wooden crates that Eaton's used to deliver groceries, an unopened 1918 bottle of Dow beer from Montreal, snow shoes, lobster trap, tailor's iron, mink coat, bird cage, cast iron hall stand with walking sticks and umbrellas, pre-Second World War hot toddy kettle, ship's lantern, Victorian hat pin holders, spinning wheel, a slew of clocks and brass candlestick holders and one stuffed crocodile that's not for sale.
There was an enormous Victorian hall mirror with built-in bench that they bought at auction 33 years ago for $400. They didn't want to sell it, but the canal lift bridge was closed for repairs for three months last year and the customers just weren't coming. That piece brought $8,000 and got them through the winter.
After all these years, Susan and Bruce have grown weary of the artless bargainer, the kind of guy you'd see driving up to a garage sale in his Cadillac and arguing over a quarter.
Susan, four-foot-ten, all charm, gives that kind of visitor her best. But when she's had enough, she smiles, says, "Thank you, goodbye," and moves on before the lout knows what hit him.
The plan now is to just work with dealers and do shows. So the whole jumbled kingdom is for sale at $990,000. Bruce says that may be too high. There's the shop and the house, but he knows it will all come down. What's for sale here is a 180-foot-wide view of the lake.
Come spring, or whenever, they're bound for the top of the brow in Grimsby. There's a century house there, lots of fresh air and a nice red barn that's bound to fill up fast.
StreetBeat runs Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. pwilson@thespec.com or 905-526-3391
