Fifty years after Expo 67, a visitor returns

While a few things have changed, Montreal remains as vibrant as ever, Rob Britton writes.

Fifty years ago this summer, three 15-year-olds from the United States began a week’s visit to Montreal, without parents, to visit Expo 67.

We found a place that seemed to look the same as the cities we knew, and my friends emphasized the similarities. At restaurants near our bunks at the YMCA, the ketchup bottles, though bilingual, still read Heinz, and the contents tasted exactly as they did back home.

But I was quicker to notice, and appreciate, what was different.

For one thing, the people were far more diverse; I was accustomed to blond, blue-eyed Minnesotans. In Montreal there were people speaking French, redheads, Jews wearing yarmulkes, West Indians speaking English with a lilt. For another, Expo 67 showcased interesting film and media presentations. The techniques were bold, certainly, but the messages clearly told of a place different from back home.

As well, there were differences of which we were aware, but could not see. Before we left, my friend’s father spoke ominously of Canada’s “socialized medicine.” A year earlier, my family had to sell our house to pay my father’s hospital bills. Canada’s approach made sense to me — and still does.

Leaving Montreal on a CN overnight train, I promised to return north, to explore further.

And through the next halfcentury, I’ve returned to Canada many times, nearly twice a year on average. I’ve made friends from Vancouver to St. John’s, experienced memorable places from Whitehorse to Charlottetown. Most importantly, Canada has taught me that there are other, better ways to organize society and to behave in the larger world.

I visited Montreal again a few weeks ago, not for the first time since 1967, but conscious that 50 years had passed since my first visit, causing me to reflect on what had not changed and what was different.

A lot remained the same, three of those things apparent within an hour of landing.

As I walked through Trudeau Airport, your greater civility, immediately evident, made me smile, as it does on every arrival. Immigration and customs people were polite, the bus driver friendly, locals boarded the crowded bus with grace.

Your commitment to public mobility, which had first impressed me when I saw the newly opened métro, is unchanged. The STM 747 airport express bus — with free Wi-Fi — was just the first example; on the next two days I used the superb Bixi network of shared bikes.

And all your public art is as shining as in 1967, but more abundant. The glazed-tile circles on the platform of the Peel métro station remain, but there are many newer things to appreciate, like the colourful painted moose sculpture on Sherbrooke St. W., the 21 swings in the Quartier des spectacles, and so much more that brings life even on a grey day.

As well, though, much had changed, in my opinion for the better. Three examples:

First, diversity I spotted as a teenager was even more evident, manifest in the faces on the street, in the huge range of food, and — unseen to the visitor but surely there — in the huge welcome mat for refugees and other immigrants (I’m not naive; of course xenophobia exists, but it’s not national policy).

Second, there appears to be a willingness to own up to past collective mistakes, which contrasts so markedly with denial in my country. Charles Joseph’s totem pole in front of the Museum of Fine Arts, honouring residential school survivors, was visible evidence.

Third, there is a palpable dynamism, manifest in all the new residential and commercial construction. It’s been interesting for this outsider to watch the transformation of the Quebec economy over the course of five decades.

Though I love the United States and am proud of my own country, Canada remains a model. It is to me a place of civility and decency.

And 50 years after Expo 67, your great city seems as vibrant as ever.