Family bids goodbye to the man behind Boushey’s
There’s a big hole on Elgin Street these days.
It has nothing to do with the roadwork that’s going on. It’s centred just south, at the intersection with Waverley Street, where a Quickie convenience store now sits.
From the end of the Second World War until it closed in 2016, that corner was home to Boushey’s Fruit Market, where seven decades of customers bought groceries, flowers and gift baskets, or just visited and chatted with generations of Bousheys who made the place warm and welcoming.
This past Dec. 22, Moe Boushey, the face of the store and a man whose outgoing, affable nature earned him the nickname “the Czar of Elgin Street,” died of cancer at the age of 81.
Elgin Street, and indeed all of Ottawa, will not soon likely see a similar character.
“He was straightforward and so honest,” says Ana Maria Boushey, Moe’s wife of 48 years. “That’s why everybody loved him.”
It was at the store, more even than the Alta Vista home where Ana Maria and Moe raised their children, Caroline and Christian, that Moe felt most comfortable.
“He wasn’t a homebody,” says Ana Maria, “that’s for sure. He would sit and go crazy, and start calling everybody — ‘Let’s play cards. Let’s do this. Let’s do that.’”
But he adored his family. “He loved telling my brother, Chris, and I stories about what we were like when we were little,” Caroline said at a celebration of life held for Moe this past Valentine’s Day — Moe’s birthday. “He absolutely loved being a father. It was the greatest gift my mom could ever have given him.”
It was Diab Boushey who bought the small grocery store at 348 Elgin St. in 1946 with his wife, Jamily. Two years later, Moe’s older brother, Charlie, arrived from Lebanon to help out. It was in the mid-1950s that Moe followed.
Charlie bought the business in 1960 and the brothers became partners. Two of Charlie’s sons, Peter and Mark, worked at the store for almost 50 years themselves, eventually taking over the operation. But it was the gregarious Moe, who worked there evenings and nights, whom most people associate with Boushey’s.
“The store really was Moe’s office,” Ana Maria says.
Avraham Iny met Moe 42 years ago, a year after Iny moved to Canada from Israel.
“He was the first non-Jewish friend that I had — two different backgrounds from a part of the world that don’t see eye-to-eye, and we clicked together. He treated everyone with kindness. That was the way he conducted himself, and if it was up to the two of us, the Middle East would have had a lasting peace years ago.”
Moe was involved in numerous real-estate investments. Close friend Tony Dunn says he can’t count the number of deals that were hammered out beside the meat counter at the store.
“There was an agent or broker almost every hour who would come by and open a file, and we’d be sitting on milk cartons saying ‘What do you think?’”
Dunn, who befriended Moe 35 years ago when he lived downtown and regularly shopped at the store, also introduced him to golf, when Dunn was an assistant golf pro at Rivermead, where Charlie played.
“I didn’t know he and Charlie were brothers, and one day Charlie brought a guest, and it was the milkman, Uncle Moe. I gave him a lesson, and the next day he showed up to join the club, and brought his friend (hairdresser) Rinaldo with him.”
Even if he wasn’t working he would go there and hang out and visit friends, and people would drop in. He loved that place.
Moe favoured 14-hole rounds over the customary 18, as they afforded him some time to play gin rummy in the clubhouse before leaving for his shift at the store.
He also played squash and lifted weights at the Ottawa Athletic Club, and enjoyed watching NFL football on TV.
Every January, he and seven friends gathered in Boca Raton, Fla., to watch the Super Bowl together, at the home of another longtime friend, Peter Clark.
“He was pretty relaxed and enjoyed life,” recalls Clark, who knew Moe for almost 40 years, beginning in the days when he’d stop by the store each morning to pick up an orange.
Moe famously never wore a watch, which his nephew Peter Boushey says gave him an excuse to be late for work most days. Clark argues, however, that Moe wasn’t habitually tardy: He was never late for a round of golf.
Moe sat on The Ottawa Hospital Foundation Board and supported the Heart Institute, and in 1992 was awarded the 125th Anniversary of the Confederation of Canada Medal by Gov. Gen. Ray Hnatyshyn.
Moe and Ana Maria met in Chile, in 1970, at the home of relatives of hers. Hearing the doorbell ring one evening, Ana Maria says, she looked out a second-floor window and saw two men, neither of whom she recognized, on the front step. She called out to her aunt to let her know of the guests’ arrival.
Moe’s recollection of the same incident was more romantic. He frequently told friends of how, upon ringing the bell, he glanced up to see a beautiful young woman looking down at him. “That’s the woman I’m going to marry,” he promised.
“He was charming and honest,” recalls Ana Maria. “He was a good person who reminded me of my father, who had just passed away at 48. He wasn’t gorgeous or anything like that. It was beyond that — his personality and just how down-toearth he was.
“He always said, ‘I’ll take care of you,’ and he always did.”
Moe loved to travel, including regular visits to Kfarmechki, Lebanon, where he was born; South America, to where about half his family migrated; and in particular Chile, where Ana Maria grew up. He was fluent in English, Arabic, French and Spanish, and also knew some Portuguese, Italian and Chinese.
Moe’s cancer diagnosis came about five years ago, and much of the last year and a half of his life was spent at the General campus of The Ottawa Hospital, undergoing treatment. He died at the Élisabeth Bruyère Hospital.
His final years were emotionally difficult. Close friends, including Rinaldo, predeceased him, while the closure of Boushey’s was a tough blow.
“That was horrible for him,” says Ana Maria. “You never think that you’re going to feel this way, but it was such a part of his life. Even if he wasn’t working he would go there and hang out and visit friends, and people would drop in. He loved that place.”
But regrets? Hardly, she says, quoting My Way, by Frank Sinatra, one of Moe’s favourites: “Regrets, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few to mention.”
“He lived his life really fully,” she says, “and did what he wanted to do. And he was lucky that he could do that. He was very lucky.”