Milkman on the Go, 1952, by Alan Lyons

Alan Lyons was a novice milkman in the summer of 1952 before starting university.
Date: 1952

I needed a summer job when I finished Grade 12 in 1952, to help pay for my first year at the University of Alberta, so I went to Silverwood Dairy's deliveries office up the narrow flight of stairs in the dairy yard on the northeast corner of Edmonton's 109 th Street and Jasper Avenue. Old Jock Beveridge, the deliveries foreman and his assistant foreman, Sam Parker greeted me with amusement when I asked if I could fill in for milkmen going on summer vacation. To my surprise they said they'd give me a try, told me I'd get $50 a week, and assured me that I would have at least a few days with the regular milkman learning the route before he left on his holidays. Most routes used one horse but a number of them employed a team of two.


The next day, as requested, I showed up at the dairy at 6:00 a.m. and was told that I would train for my first route with Louis L'Heureux. His route was nearby in the neighborhood just north of the dairy. Louis asked me to hitch up the horse to the wagon. I managed to lead the horse down from the stable, but, being a city boy I wasn't very familiar with horses, except perhaps from Roy Rogers movies. Nevertheless, as I was at least able to guess which end of the animal was to be nearest the front of the wagon, and which end would receive the feedbag at lunch, I finally succeeded in attaching the right straps to their intended sites. I must say that Louis, who managed to stifle his laughter, was very patient with me. Standing at just over 5 feet in height, he and I, at 6'2" must have presented quite a sight together. He said I could call him "Shorty" as the others did.


After hitching the reluctant animal to the wagon Shorty and I started loading the cases as they were passed up to us, and checking the contents against his requisition form prepared the previous day. We were almost ready to roll! But first Shorty gave me the customers book to review the names, addresses, their usual orders, where to leave the delivered items, and an outstanding amounts owing. He gave me a supply of change, and tokens of different colors for the various products. Tokens purchased by customers fitted exactly over the circular bottle tops and were left with the empties which we picked up, as well as a note with the customer's order if she was not home. Pasteurized milk cost 20 cents per quart bottle, homogenized was 20 1/2 cents, chocolate 21 cents, Jersey milk 22 cents, buttermilk 19 cents, and a pint of cream was about 30 cents. One and half pound packs of butter, and special orders of sour cream were also available.


Shorty warned me against the practice of "buckshee" in which either the inside crew smuggled out cases of milk to an equally shady co-conspirator on the outside, each usually getting half of the ill-gotten gains; - or in which the driver smashed full bottles and kept intact the round paper bottle tops on the jagged remnants of the necks of bottles for which he would claim full credit as "accidental breakage". There were many things that Shorty didn't have time to teach me, but that I would learn through experience, for example the most efficient way to load bottles in baskets to cover by foot as many houses as possible before reloading from the wagon being so patiently pulled after me by the faithful animal, when and to whom and how much credit to allow, what to do in case of an accident, and so on.


That summer I relieved on about ten routes of different sizes and complexities throughout the city, managed to survive when inside a wagon tipped by a team of frightened neurotic horses, got completely lost in the northeast end of town when the regular team of horses was unexpectedly pulled for shoeing and replaced by a new pair before I was able to learn the route, and saw my wagon being smashed when the horses tried to enter the stable before I could unhitch them. On the positive side I drank all the free milk I wanted, and met some really cute girls along the west end crescents where I plied my new trade during part of August. For this I was even being paid! Not too bad for a seventeen year old student! But the best part of the job was that I started very early and finished early, leaving a good part of the afternoon free to play tennis at the old Glenora Club on 120 th Street.


The memories of my adventures that magical summer of 1952, spent almost entirely in the sunshine; - and the kindness and good humor of my Silverwood bosses who I continued to "drop in on" while I was attending University, remain vivid to this day.