THE GOOD GIRLS
A look back at small town courtships in the 1950s
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Evelyn was born and raised in the small town of Grand Forks, B.C., and now makes her home on the shores of beautiful Kootenay Lake. She’s had a very full life in her 80-plus years working in the legal and mental health fields, raising a family and travelling. Fifteen years ago, she organized a family reunion. In preparation for it, she took a creative writing course in order to put together a family history book. These days, speaking with young people about courting, she realized how different things are and started reminiscing about that time in her life. This is her first short story to be published.
The year was 1955, and our boys were home from the Korean War. Residents of Grand Forks, B.C., located just north of the U.S. border, felt the loss of over 54,000 American young men. An army training base had been located in Republic, a 45-minute drive across the border. No longer were there any soldiers coming up to squabble with the local boys for the attention of the young Canadian girls.
The following are some of the “good girls” I hung out with, who didn’t smoke, drink or do drugs to have a good time.
Christine, the daredevil of our bunch, had been dating U.S. privates, and dreamed of seeing the world. When fun loving Tod, the love of her life, returned from surviving the Korean war, their burning passion drove them to elope to Coeur d’alene, Idaho, Tod’s hometown. He went on to make the army his lifetime career, and Christine got to see the world. Everyone said their marriage would never last, but the last I heard they were alive and well, regularly cruising on the Holland American Cruise Lines—together.
Our prim and proper Catholic friend, Mary, had quit school after Grade 8, in order to help her mother who was still having babies every two years. Joey, her boy-next-door friend was like an older brother she never had. However, as time went on she started noticing that his voice was sounding deeper, and he started growing hair on his chin. She’d get flustered and tingly in his presence. When she turned 16, they got married and moved in with Joe’s parents.
Tillie, the responsible one, quit school after finishing Grade 10 to help on the family farm and waitressed at a popular local hangout. Her mother had a lifelong friend, and together they conspired for their children to marry. Tillie didn’t particularly love Dan when they got married, but she grew to care deeply for her boring, hardworking, kind and gentle giant as time went by.
Margaret, a quiet, pretty and nice girl, hardly ever went out. Larry was known as the bad-boy basketball star who was going to university in Vancouver. During a Christmas break visit home, apparently he contacted Margaret. When he came home for Easter, there was a small surprise wedding, and they moved to Vancouver. Rumours were that she “had to get married,” and that’s what happened when you went too far. Too far from what? By the time of Margaret’s 21st birthday she was the divorced, single parent of two beautiful boys.
That left just two, Martha and I—almost old maids! I had moved to Nelson, B.C., and had been fortunate enough to land a job working for a lawyer. In order to meet other young people I joined a local choir, and after a couple of practices I was drawn to a deep, honey-toned bass voice. Looking for the person behind the voice, I was blown over by a handsome boy, Peter. We became an item, going walking, hiking, swimming, skating and attending hockey games and movies, after which we shared milkshakes at Wade’s.
Dances at Playmour Junction were also a favourite. Peter had taught himself to play the guitar and, surprisingly, we harmonized beautifully. This often drew a crowd at Lakeside Park where we gathered after church on Sundays.
One weekend, Martha decided to take the train over the mountains to visit me, and Peter arranged a blind date for her with his best friend, Billy, for Saturday night. Peter was a couple of years older, and had managed to save enough money working at a sawmill to buy a blue-and-white 1953 Chevy Bel Air, with a cream-coloured interior and a lot of shiny chrome on the outside. The boys drove up, and we went to my favourite aunt’s place up in the Slocan Valley. What screaming went on when we arrived early and walked in on her still having a bath in a galvanized tub in the kitchen! When all settled down, we had a great time playing cards, telling stories and jokes by the light of a kerosene lamp. There was no electricity service yet in the valley. We snacked on a variety of freshly baked cookies and whole milk brought in that evening from their Jersey cow. The glowing woodstove took the autumn chill off and kept us toasty warm.
Before driving back to Nelson, we parked down by the river, which was reflecting a full harvest moon, and the necking began in the front seat. Necking meant no hanky-panky below the neck. Poor, painfully shy Martha and Billy in the backseat were each pushing up against their opposite doors trying to get away from the uncomfortable scene before them.
Would you believe that they started a long-distance romance through letter writing? In 2019 they celebrated their 62nd anniversary with hundreds of family and friends, 62 descendants (including spouses) and one great-great grandbaby. No, I did not marry Peter, but that’s another story. n