Ottawa, in the 60s was, of course, very different from what it is now. It was, for people outside of Ottawa, considered the capital of boredom. Although its inhabitants protested, they secretly concurred with this assessment. When I worked in Alberta, not only did they consider Ottawa a bore, but as the seat of the federal government they almost considered it evil. If I mentioned that I was born and lived in Ottawa, this would illicit a chorus of groans followed by a smattering of sympathy. How could I possibly live in such a place? Even if I mentioned that one could ski just 10 minutes away in the Gatineaus, how could one compare the majestic Rockies with the puny Gatineau Hills, they would justifiably say.
Even the ethnic mix was different. Whereas Edmonton had immigrants from all over Europe, Ottawa, generally of British or French Canadian roots, had some Italian and Chinese which we French Canadians considered exotic back then. Ottawans could point to their “Chinese village” with its four restaurants, located on Albert near Bank then, a few Italian restaurants in Little Italy on Preston Street, and the remarkable French restaurant Café Henry Burger in Hull. But mostly our restaurants then served up “Canadian cuisine”—beef or turkey sandwiches smothered in thick gravy with mashed potatoes and withered peas.
Meeting places for youth were few. Some restaurants accepted loitering, like the Del Rio on Rideau Street, but there were few such places. If you happened to be 21, and you were a student at the University of Ottawa, you would head to the Besserer Hotel. But that was far from being a very congenial place. There was a men’s room for men only and another room for women “with an escort.” And of course most ended up in the men’s room, a room reeking of beer and filled with smoke. As décor, it had a few beer posters, bentwood chairs with a small table and a metal ashtray. On the counter, large jars of pickled eggs stared out at anyone craving for some kind of sustenance. At 5:00 pm the place had to be cleared unless one were eating. So the waiters would dutifully plunk on each table a small plate with some kind of stale sandwich which of course nobody dared to touch. (How long did they keep them before they were freshened up, I often wondered.) Everybody now being legal with their stale sandwiches, the drinking would happily revive. (Later the drinking age was lowered to 18. Oddly, this seemed to occur about at the time that youth had discovered marijuana. Perhaps the government, to counter this trend changed the law, thinking it was more acceptable to have the kids get drunk like dad?)