Half a Bed Better Than None?

Just after the war, in 1946 or ‘47 when I was 19, I left our family farm in Greenwood, just north of Pickering, and went to Toronto for work.

I found a job at the TTC paying $19 a week, which was a good salary then. But they warned me to get a place to live before I took the job. In those days, it was harder to find accommodation than work. There were many displaced people in Toronto, and there was a housing shortage.

I managed to rent half a bed in a rooming house near Pape and Danforth. I had to share a bed with a girl I didn’t know. I also had to eat all of my meals out, which was difficult for a farm girl. (A greasy spoon at the corner had meals for 70 cents.)

I went through an enormous shock when I moved to Toronto, but I could take the train home on weekends for $1. That was the saving grace.

After six months’ sharing a bed, I put an ad in the paper saying an educated farm girl was looking for room and board five days a week. I found a place in the same Pape and Danforth area.

I didn’t keep up with the girl who I shared the bed with. We weren’t compatible. I was a stickler, who grew up in a church household with morals. She was much freer.

The job came with a free TTC pass

It was interesting working at the TTC. I was in the cashier department at 35 Yonge St. An armoured truck would get the fare boxes, dump the contents into a bag for, say, Runnymede, and they would bring the bags to us. We would have to count and estimate how many tickets and cash came in on the Runnymede route or Bloor St. – that sort of thing.

Mr. Hughes, who was the boss of the cashiers’ department, was kind of straight-laced. We had to stamp everything we did, and I put down Betty Appleby because I was known as Betty. But one day, he found out my name was Elizabeth so he immediately got a proper stamp, and he said, “You know you’ve been stamping these things illegally all this time as Betty.” But it was a good group.

It was a good job. I got a TTC pass and was able to ride around the city for free. (Tickets cost four for $1.) I learned the names of the streets quickly because of working there, so it was helpful in that way.

I worked at 35 Yonge for eight years. The building was torn down in the late 1950s.