JB's Warehouse & Curio Emporium

While researching an upcoming Historicist piece this past weekend, I stumbled upon this odd notice from the business section of the October 12, 1936 edition of the Mail and Empire . No idea what the backstory is, other than it appears to involve mining speculation. Johnny did pretty well for himself after he changed his name soon after his assumption of mascot duties at Mad magazine in the mid-1950s . The fame he achieved made up for past jobs in the advertising world, which included promoting soda pop and painless dentistry, portraying a victim of a deficiency disease, and assuming the role of assorted grinning idiots. - JB

Another example of YouTube proving long-term childhood memories are correct: a Levi's ad that stuck in my head for years featuring a slightly creepy alien warrior who uttered "LE-VI-ZUH!" a lot and chuckled at the end of the commercial. I'm not surprised that I don't remember the wussy human. The warrior made at least one other appearance, shown above. The jean-makers animated ads from the late 70s/early 80s are stunning in their design, rotoscoping (basing the animation on human models) and overall quirkiness (A farmer who shows great pride in his denim crop? How would jeans have fit humans if we had physically evolved in different ways?). - JB

You've been waiting all day for this. A nice, romantic dinner with your beloved, where love is in the air as you gingerly tear into a rack of meaty pork ribs. Neither of you will care if sweet BBQ sauce drips onto your chic blouse or comfy sportcoat—it's being together in the moment that matters. Your relationship is sealed under the gaze of smoking dogs playing poker. The painting may be gone, but Tunnel Bar-B-Q carries on . Detroit Monthly ran the same review of TBQ for years: "For many Yanks, the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel is a long driveway to this rib shack. Big meaty ribs, oversized salads and diet-shattering desserts. The decor is Early Franchise." *** Also in the June 1986 issue of Detroit Monthly : * A profile of longtime WJR morning host J.P. McCarthy , a Detroit radio institution from the early 1960s until his death in 1995. McCarthy was usually on in the car at the start of long roadtrips—he always talked about his golf game. Other elements I rem

Click on photos for closeup. One useful task accomplished while resting at home over Labour Day weekend was a long-overdue cleaning-out of the family liquor cabinet. We're not known for overindulging in booze, so bottles of alcohol tend to stick around for years. Mom was certain that a few bottles near the back predated me, possibly back to the late 1960s. Among the ancient treasures we found was a bottle of Marie Brizard creme de menthe of indeterminate age. If any liquor historians can date this bottle based on the pictures above, I'd love to hear from you.

Before reading this post, check out the original article on Torontoist . In case the fine print is too fine—left to right: Ben Wicks, Paul Rimstead, Peter Worthington. Photo by Norm Betts. The Toronto Sun , October 24, 1972. Paul Rimstead wasn't kidding when he said the other papers paid next-to-no attention to his mayoral campaign. Passing references were made to him in the Globe and Mail , while the Star couldn't resist a potshot or two. Case in point: Jack Miller's television column from the December 1, 1972 Star , which noted Rimstead's appearances on CITY: The station even managed to present him in a suit—a nice blue suit—as part of a male fashion show on the afternoon Sweet City Woman series this week. It’s rumoured he’ll be wearing a suit again for tonight’s debate, indicating he takes CITY even more seriously than they take him (which is more seriously than most people take him). This attitude may partly explain why Rimstead was not thrilled when t

It's been awhile since I've written about a psychogeography walk. Blame it on an inability to keep track of time—I've been lucky to post photos from recent strolls within a reasonable amount of time. Let's see if this entry will break the cycle...probably not, but it's worth a shot. *** Last week's walk began at Union Station, where I positioned my mini-tripod to snap the shot above of the Royal York Hotel. From Union, we headed to the new underpass on Simcoe Street south of Front. The abrupt truncation of the bike lanes at Front was noted. It's grey, spare and nothing that will invoke dramatic oohing and aahing. We stopped at Roundhouse Park to see if several vintage train cars destined to be displayed in the Toronto Railway Heritage Centre could be viewed. They were there, but under wraps. The roundhouse was a hive of activity, thanks to a raucous crowd that we initially thought was a film festival tie-in party at Steam Whistle Brewery. It tu

Two years ago, I wrote about a drive through the Brighton Beach neighbourhood in Windsor . Curious to see what the area looked liked as it awaits its future as the site for a new Detroit-Windsor bridge , I wandered around last weekend. Most of the streets were blocked off with walls of dirt several years ago as the traces of former homes, businesses and street names were removed. The streets that are still open to regular traffic are shaded in blue in the map above (courtesy Google Maps - I admit I forgot to check the status of G.N. Booth Drive). While the two main streets (Broadway and Sandwich) are still fully accessible, others, like Page Street, have been reduced to driveways for the few holdouts in the neighbourhood. International Metropolis and Windsor Visuals have posted about the history of Brighton Beach—the neighbourhood's future is in the hands of the federal government after it paid $34 million in July to secure land for a new border crossing. Brighton Be

Source: National Geographic , March 1955 While I didn't wave at the Cascades like Mr. Jefferson... ...I was able to greet a giant inflatible bear and its catch of the morning as I left Coos Bay to begin my lone full day in Oregon. It was Memorial Day, so I kept my eyes peeled for any potential traffic tie-ups due to parades and related festivies. Luckily most towns kept their marching routes off US 101. Decorated home, Florence, Oregon While in Florence, I passed by a ceremony that saluted the efforts of dogs in foreign wars. The crowd made it difficult to tell if any of the honoured pooches were decorated with medals for their service in Iraq. North of Florence were several spots to observe sea lions. There was one tourist trap that offered a close-up view for a steep admission fee. I ended up at a park called Strawberry Hill , which made up for its lack of fruit with a scenic, craggy landscape and an occasional glimpse of sea lions in the distance. Bo

Clark may be long gone from Harrow (though a street still bears its name), but "the tang of vegetables in the air" remains as fields surrounding the town produce tasty treats. I may not draw out my "a-ha-a-a-a"s like this disembodied head, whose sounds may be gasps for air as much as happy soup slurping, but my stomach is satisfied whenever I return to Toronto with roadside produce from Essex County. Source: The Evening Telegram , November 15, 1929 PS - Over on Torontoist, a plea not to steal White Glove Girls . - JB