Drinking Beer With Aurele Joliat January 14, 2008
Ottawa’s Prescott Hotel, in the mid 1980’s, was the classic (and maybe still is) old beverage room with a Ladies and Escorts door, and a regular entrance. It smelled of stale beer, cigarettes, and body odour, and the trays of beer were served by guys in white shirts who looked like they were on day parole.
It was my kind of a bar.
It was also the Wednesday night bowling team’s kind of bar, a place where the members, which consisted of a bunch of young guys and one really old guy, got together after a big night out at the bowling lanes.
I’d just read about the bowling team and the really old guy, in the paper, so I went down to the Prescott. Because it’s not every day that you get a chance to drink beer with Aurele Joliat, star player of the Montreal Canadiens in the 1920’s and 30’s, and good buddy of Howie Morenz.
In the Prescott, I spotted Joliat right away. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this out, as he was about 50 years older than the rest of the bowling team. So I went over and asked him if I could buy him a beer and he grumbled something and said the f word a few times, but he joined me and we ordered our beer.
For the first fifteen minutes or so, he was just an old grouch, like so many geezers. He pooh poohed the Rocket when I asked him what he thought, saying Richard couldn’t lace Morenz’s skates. He grumbled about today’s hockey, saying they were all a bunch of pansies who would never had cut it in the old days. And on it went.
But then he started to change. I think he could feel that I was genuinely interested in the hockey of his day, and in his team, the Montreal Canadiens. He became soft-spoken and kind, and he showed interest in me and my life. He grew sentimental when talking about Morenz, and signed a photo I had brought of him and Morenz arm in arm, and wrote, “To my pal, Howie Morenz 1924-37.” I had a broken wrist and he also signed a book I had brought, “To Dennis and his broken arm. Aurele Joliat.”
The evening began with an old man who was testy, not really nice, and almost belligerent, and it ended with a man who was a kind and caring gentleman.
I drove him home and he thanked me and said goodbye, and I wish now I would have continued this new friendship. I would have loved to have seen his old photos, and maybe that little touque he wore when he starred for the Montreal Canadiens, all those years ago.
Wow thats an honor to drink beer with a legend like that. The 1934 hart trophy winner was as feisty a player as anybody. And the fact he played his entire career with two displaced vertebraes in his back due to a childhood incident is simply amazing ( sure makes steve moore look like a panzy). He was quite the athlete to, also playing professional football for the Ottawa rough riders. His 270 goals and 460 points in his time is very impressive for that era. Its the history of players like this that make hockey such a great sport. On a personal note, you might be interested to know I have a 1933 ice kings hockey card of the “little giant”. The website is great, you’ll have a regular visitor in me.
Thanks for that, Jordy. It’s great to see that you’re so in touch with the old days like you are. And that Ice Kings card - Wow!
When I was a kid in school in Montreal (in the 50s)we learned a poem about Aurele Joliat, and search as I may I can’t find it anywhere. It was written in a francophone accent, and I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to locate it for years.
Would you, or anyone reading this, happen to know the name of the poem and where I could find it? If so I’d appreciate an e-mail with the information.
Thanks
Hi Doug. I don’t know this poem but I’m going to start looking for it. Maybe someone out there will find it for you. If you get, please send me a copy.
I appreciate the help. I spent the entire day searching through every search engine I know. But no luck. Let me know if you do any better. Or maybe some of your readers are familiar with it.
Thanks again.
Doug
Hi Doug:
I, too, recall that poem from my school days but don’t remember the title or author. It went something like this:
Maroons, they have good hockey team
Those Maple Leafs (?) is nice
But Les Canadiens they are the best
That ever skate de ice
Morenz, he go like one big storm
Sil Mantha’s big and fat
They all are good but none is quite
So good as Joliat
Joliat, he is my friend
I don’t know him myself
But I knows a man who knows a man
Who knows him very well
So when I tire of traival trop
I put on coat of coon
And go to see Les Canadiens
Make mincemeat of Maroon
That was a very exciting game
The score she was a tie
And then my little Joliat
He get hanger in his eye
He take him puck at other end
And skate him down so fast
The rest of players seem dormir
As he is going past
That was the winning goal hurrah
The game she come to end
I yell bravo for Joliat
You see he is my friend
There’s more but I don’t recall the missing bits.
Gordon, thanks a lot. What a great little poem. Doug’s really happy.