I’ll Have A Quart, Please. And Where’s Toe?

You were served your cold quarts of beer by middle-aged men in white shirts, at plain tables with ashtrays and cigarette burns, with framed artwork of different Canadiens’ players lining the walls around you. A thick haze of smoke lingered in the air, and people huddled at tables and talked and solved world problems.

Except for the pictures on the walls, it could’ve been just another plain and slightly rundown beer parlour in any town or city, filled mostly with men who took their drinking and hockey talk seriously. But of course it wasn’t just any old tavern. It was Toe Blake Tavern, where many went before the short walk to the Forum to see the big game.

I’ve read that Toe Blake himself would come in often, although it was never when I was there. It’s too bad I missed him. I could’ve said, “Toe, Sam says I can’t be stick boy. What’s up with that?”

2 thoughts on “I’ll Have A Quart, Please. And Where’s Toe?”

  1. Dennis, Montreal can always use another beer hall run by a knowledgeable Habs fan. Bring all the memorabilia and the scrapbook and ka-ching. All you have to do is give up the Sunshine Coast and the palm trees and come back to the cold ice and snow. Just leave Gaston behind, we got rid of him and don’t want him back.

  2. Chris, a big part of my heart is back east and I would have no problem at all moving back, but my kids and grandkids are in the west now and I can’t be far from them. If it wasn’t for that, I could see us moving. But we also really love it here so it’s hard. I just have a vagabond spirit which I’ve had all my life and can’t shake. Luciena on the other hand wants no part of cold weather anymore so she doesn’t want to go anywhere. The solution is to win the lottery and have a place here and one there.

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