CALGARY NEXT

Eye Opener Bob
Copyright 1974 Western Producer Book Service
207 pages,
ISBN 0-919306-46-2.

But while he claimed a right to criticize his city, criticism from outside, especially Edmonton, would bring the EYE OPENER to the defense. Perhaps the editor went looking for an excuse to give his view~ about Edmonton. It suited Calgary people, anyway, to read that:

"Like Hootch and ofuer unspeakable prairie burgs, Edmonton
has been having trouble with its fire brigade. Edmonton, after all,
is still the same dear old frontier town. Subjection to municipal
discipline is abhorrent to its soul. It is still in the reeve stage, with
town marshall and calaboose, barber who organizes the local band
and the inevitable enthusiastic hook and ladder company to give the
burg something to be proud of. They are still advertising, 'Good
opening in Edmonton for a blacksmith shop." (March 9, 1918)

Taken altogether, life in his adopted city suited Bob Edwards pretty well. Life was simple but rich - uncomplicated by oil promotion, parking problems, and a superabundance of bylaws of which most people knew little. His summary, written years later, suggests rather general approval:

"The Royal Hotel was at its zenith.
Most young men had livery bills.
You never heard of a 'tin Lizzie.'
Doctors wanted to see your tongue.
Nobody started the day without a Collins.
Advertisers seldom told the truth.
Farmers came to town looking frowsy.
The hired girl drew twelve dollars a month.
The butcher 'threw in' a chunk of liver.
Nobody 'listened in' on a telephone.
There was no telephone.
The men did all the drinking.
You stuck tubes in your ears to hear a phonograph.
People thought politicians were statesmen.
The Alberta Hotel was considered a Waldorf-Astoria.
We were all broke and happy." (March 9,1918)

Poverty, as the editor reminded his readers, was not uncommon. There were those whose niggardliness in sharing with needy people drew Bob Edwards' ire; but to be fair to the young and relatively carefree city, there was an overriding kindliness - a sense of fellow feeling which evidently reached even to the magistrate. Bob Edwards took satisfaction in telling about the Calgary magistrate, Tom Burns, before whom one of his friends was brought on the familiar charge of drunkenness:

"Said Magistrate Burns, 'I'll have to fine you seven dollars and costs.'
" 'Can't pay it,' replied the prisoner.
" 'How about five dollars - can you pay that?'
" 'No, your honor.'
" 'I'll make the fine two and a half then,' said Mr. Bums.
" 'Your Honor, I'm broke,' confessed the unfortunate fellow.
" 'And dry too, no doubt,' the magistrate added.
" 'Yes, your honor.'
" 'Well,' said the man on the bench, 'get the hell out of here and here's two bits for a wee snifter!' "

Nor was the Calgary bailiff any more conventional than the magistrate. According to Bob's reporting, that worthy officer went to seize the contents of a house in posh Mount Royal district. The inventory, as the bailiff took it down, began in the attic:

"One sideboard, oak.
One dining room table, oak.
One set of chairs, (6) oak.
Two bottles of whiskey, full."

Then the word "full" was stricken out and replaced by "empty," and the inventory was continued in a hand that straggled and lurched diagonally across the page until it ended with, "One revolving door mat." (March 9, 1918)

It was one of the tragedies of Edwards' life that drink, of which he wrote so freely and flippantly, got the better of him now and then and he would be taken to Holy Cross Hospital for a period of recovery. Sad as was his condition when he came for a five- or six-day stay, he was always reserved and careful in his speech. Never did he leave the hospital without arranging for a gift for his nurses.

Not even in the hospital did he lose his originality. It happened that he and one of his drinking companions were in Holy Cross Hospital at the same time, receiving delirium tremens treatment in which the purgative calomel was prescribed. Bob and friend, clothed in dressing gowns, met in the hospital corridor while on the way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Now largely recovered from 'their illness, they greeted each other enthusiastically and proceeded together, arm in ann. At that moment, the Mother Superior appeared and with some justifiable astonishment asked, "What's all this?"

With the characteristic boyish twinkle returning to Bob's eyes, he replied in song: "Tis the march of the Calomel Men."

It wasn't surprising that Calgary and the EYE OPENER became almost synonymous in the years ahead. It happened that a well-known Albertan, When driving in Southern California, answered an inquiry by stating that he came from Calgary. To this, the owner of the service station at which the conversation took place responded: "Is that the name of a town? I thought it was just the name of a paper - CALGARY EYE OPENER."