Calgary through the eyes of writers
After years teaching school on the Paradise Valley reserve eighty miles southwest of the city, Carlyle Sinclair wonders if he might be bushed. His time with the Stoney people on the eastern slopes of the Rockies has changed his perspective. Caught in downtown Calgary traffic, he sees the city as a carnival, its buildings and crowds put on display for his occasional visits, and taken down when he leaves. As he heads back to the reserve on the main north-south road out of town, traffic thins but the city continues to clamour.
Banners and neon lights signaled hamburger and root beer stands – used-car dealers’ car herds – fried chicken – fish and chips – pizza and pancake palaces. The city was briefly industrial and superlative: ZENITH–ACME–UNIVERSAL. The speed zone changed – the Bluebird Motel – Shirly-Dan – Round-Up – Arrow – Pioneer –Stetson – Mecca – Oasis. He accelerated at the city limits – PEERLESS EXTERMINATORS FOR SPARROW, PIGEON, STARLING, SILVERFISH, MICE, RAT, BAT AND SKUNK CONTROL. He flashed by your goddam tootin’ Luton, lifting a fluorescent flamingo into an estate wagon by the pumps. SID’S VIRGIN LOAM, PEAT MOSS AND ROTTED MANURE–CHARLIE’S GOLD STAR DRAIN CLEARING AND SEPTIC TANK INSTALLATION – WES’S TRENCHING, BACK FILLING, BRUSH CUTTING, EXCAVATING, LEVELLING AND CRUSHING. Arnold’s, Pieter’s, Vern’s, Les’s, Oscar’s, Walter’s…
W. O. Mitchell, The Vanishing Point (Macmillan, 1973)