Wayback Wednesday, sponsored by Jamie Lockwood, broker/owner of Sutton Group Muskoka Realty!
Photo: The Huntsville Fall Fair of 1953 at the Huntsville Arena. Photo from the Muskoka Heritage Place Collection.
School children from all Huntsville schools would gather at Huntsville Public and march down Main Street to visit the Fall Fair, held at the fairgrounds where the Canada Summit Centre now stands.
See more Wayback Wednesday photos HERE.
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The Real Person!
The Real Person!
I remember doing this! An incredible community building experience.
The Real Person!
The Real Person!
A wonderful moment in the town’s history. Similar school marches occurred annually, more than 100 years ago, all the way out past Etwell to the Stisted Fall Fair grounds. Don’t miss the 139th version of the Stisted Fall Fair on Sept 7. The Huntsville Fall Fair is Sept 20-22, so you can go to both! The Huntsville Fall Fair has evolved over the years to include a carnival experience (rides, vendors ), while the Stisted Fall Fair remains stuck in the past (fine by me) with family style games featuring egg tosses, 3 legged races, ladies shoe kicking and nail driving, gentlemen and ladies tug of war, saw contests and more. Better yet, admission and concession prices also remain stuck in the past. Both fairs provide a bounty of fall harvest exhibits like giant pumpkins, arts and crafts, horse shows and fun for all ages.
Allen Markle says
I would have been in Grade 3 and am for sure in this photo somewhere. The ‘Locks’ school at the time; grades 1 to 8 and maybe 35 of us. If you find the #6 Brunel school banner, likely with Ron Lovegrove and Roger Brown holding the banner, I should be in the group right behind them.
It was a rush to get a few cents and load up to go to the Fall Fair. A mass of little people being formed up at the Huntsville Public grounds and the general populace watching but keeping their distance. Someone would deem the lot ready to go and the whole would begin to move out toward Main Street.
Down to Brunel and then along the river to Park Lane. Things would begin to lurch a little now as we passed the Mathews wood shop where Dad had the storm windows made for our house and the attached bake shop where you could get some good stuff. The whole lot of marchers had to cross the little bridge over Cann Creek and then go up the hill to the ball field and assembly area.
The bridge was a natural choke point for the marchers and if you peered over the edge to watch for a turtle or a boatman in the creek, you’d have Mrs. Feltham yelling “You there. Allen Markle. Back in line. Move along!” Like she was in charge or something. And then we’re on the ball field, waiting for the speakers to finish and be gone so we could enjoy some freedom.
The inside of that old arena was amazing. Anything a person was proud of, they could display at the fair. And there were displays of everything. Pies, cakes, jams, preserves. Geese, cows, horses, pigs. Bound displays of corn and wheat. Braided ropes of onion and garlic. Vegetables as singles, half dozens and bushels. Chickens, ducks and geese. Everything was presented at its best and worthy of the red, blue and silver ribbons attached to the winning displays.
Then with the money spent, generally on some cookies and a Kick-Cola. the buses would come and we would be trucked home. Dusty, dirty, smelly for sure and maybe just a lot wound down; but did I have stories to tell.
At dinner, after I’d washed up.