My Yonge Street Strip.

If you grew up in the city of Toronto and bought records during the 70's you no doubt would have visited Sam the Record Man. Sam's flagship location with its iconic spinning record neon sign at 347 Yonge Street was a Toronto landmark for decades.

I lived all of my teenage years in Toronto during the 70's decade and once I started earning my own money I would buy the odd record. I bought my first ever record, Elton John Greatest Hits in 1976. Although I wasn’t a huge buyer of music, I gravitated more to the chart topping 45’s than I did the long play albums back when I was a teenager. I could buy five or six hit singles for the same price as a single album. I had a pretty large stack of those little records with the big hole in the middle. Whenever I did buy an album it was usually a greatest hits record from my favorite bands like the Rolling Stones, the Cars, Aerosmith, Supertramp, Fleetwood Mac and KISS.

During my later teenage years there wasn’t a better way to spend a Friday night than one which included a visit to Sam the Record Man. Hopping on the subway, heading downtown and then walking the Yonge Street strip was a blast. There was so much to do, so much to see and Yonge Street was never boring. I always hit the strip with another friend; I never walked around on Yonge Street at night all by myself.

That would just have felt too creepy, too weird.

Our trek would usually begin at Bloor Street, from there our direction was always south. On a rare occasion, we would hit the Uptown Theater for an early show. One movie I remember seeing was the Monty Python classic ‘Life of Brian’ back in 1979 at the Uptown. The Uptown Theater was one of the world’s first multiplex cinemas with its five screens back in the 70's.

On my Yonge Street strip there were also a dozen or so small stereo shops along the route. Finding the best price on stereo equipment was easy as most of the stores were all too eager to undercut the next guy. I remember one night when my friend was looking to buy a new Pioneer stereo receiver. If I recall every store was selling the exact same popular model for $500. After visiting about ten stores he ended up buying the receiver for around $400 cash. Each store we visited would better the previous store's best price by about ten bucks.

Platform shoes were a huge fashion statement back in the 70's and nobody sold more leather platform shoes or boots than Master John. I loved walking into that little store just south of Wellesley Street although I never bought anything. Just the overpowering leather smell permeating onto the sidewalk was enough to coax me inside. I always had a good laugh seeing some of the outlandish custom boots that people had ordered. There were autographed photos on the walls from some of the store's more famous customers. Probably their biggest client at the time was the rock band KISS during the pinnacle of their popularity.

There was always something to see walking on the strip and it was always entertaining.

A drunk guy staggering all over the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette after having pissed himself while begging for money. The skanky hookers just outside of the Ford Drug store always offering their intimate services to men who were feeling lonely, horny and had a few extra dollars in their pants. I will never forget the drag queens coming and going outside of the St. Charles Tavern just north of College Street. Grown men all dressed up as scantly clothed women wearing makeup, wigs and pumps. All the while their knobby Adam’s apples can be clearly seen protruding from their perfumed drenched necks.

On warmer nights you couldn’t miss the Hare Krishna. They too would always be out there prancing, chanting and banging on tambourines while ignoring the numerous catcalls hurled at them from complete strangers. I vividly remember seeing a man in a wheelchair spit right in a Krishna kid's face, not once but twice. The young boy didn’t even flinch as the spit slid down his chin. The others in the group began to chant and sing even louder until the man wheeled himself away from them.

After cursing them out he finally continued on his way heading south. The Krishna's continued on their journey walking north handing out their little pamphlets always trying to recruit new members to their temple over on Avenue Road. The Church of Scientology also was always out on the west sidewalk offering a free personality test to passersby. Their mission also was to convert young and impressionable people who were walking past their building into becoming new members.

I kept my distance from them always crossing over to the east side of Yonge Street after taking the test.

Once we arrived at Wood Street we always detoured east for a block over to Church Street. A quick right then another right at Carlton Street back out to Yonge Street insured both of us caught the aura just oozing from Maple Leaf Gardens. Whoever I was with always said that they never felt anything, but I always did. I always felt more invigorated and had a bit more of a jump in my step after walking around the Vatican of the hockey world.

There were also a few grindhouse theaters on Yonge Street. For the most part they would screen low budget, slasher, horror and titillating adult b-movies. The shows would be consecutive flicks one after another lasting well past midnight. Street people who for a couple bucks on a hot summer day would spend hours just napping in the sparsely crowded air conditioned theaters.

The Coronet Theater was the largest grindhouse theater back in the 70's on the strip. 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' was a popular annual attraction at the Coronet. Many of the patrons would dress the part while doing the 'Time Warp' inside the theater. One night I watched the Led Zeppelin movie 'The Song Remains the Same' at the Coronet. I felt like I was right inside Madison Square Garden with the concert like atmosphere inside the theater on that night.

A walk on the Yonge Street strip always included a bite to eat.

There were literally dozens of options; whatever you wanted to eat you could find it on the strip. From eating in a sit down restaurant, a quick fast food take out or my favorite pizza, you would not be going hungry. For me most of the time I went to The Big Slice just south of the Coronet Theater at Gerrard Street. There would always be a guy covered with dusty flour tossing pizza dough in the front window. With each high toss the dough would get larger, rounder and thinner. It always amazed me that I never saw his hands break through the thin soon to be pizza crust dough.

The Big Slice was exactly that, big oversized slices of great pizza. The slices were almost double the size of the other pizza joints on the strip for the same price. There were so many different hot slices all with various toppings and ready to eat. The place was always crowded and sometimes when it was really busy you would have to wait for your slice to cook in one of the six big ovens. I burned the roof of my mouth too many times woofing down hot pizza slices at The Big Slice.

After two veggie slices and a Coke, I was ready to hit the street again. Once we ate we usually made one more stop before hitting our final destination, Sam the Record Man.

The Jumping Jack Flash head shop sold all the latest drug paraphernalia, lava lamps and almost every type of incense on the planet. We had no interest whatsoever in any of that merchandise as we always walked right to the back of the store. At the back of the store there was a beaded curtain and once you walked through the curtain there was another small room where they kept all the bootleg records. Selling bootleg records was illegal in Toronto, but the head shops on Yonge Street always had them for sale. They were always sold in a back room and you usually had to ask for what you were looking for. I still have a couple Rolling Stones bootleg records I bought on the strip. The quality is absolutely terrible as they were usually recorded by some guy who had snuck a portable cassette recorder into a concert.

A&A Records was the second store just north of Sam’s on the east side of Yonge Street. The two behemoth stores competed vigorously with each other while each tried to be the dominant record seller in Toronto. I had gone into A&A’s many times, but only if I knew I was buying a certain record. If it was cheaper than Sam’s I always went back to buy it at A&A’s, but only after I visited Sam’s first. For the most part the prices were pretty much the same in both of the stores.

By far Sam’s was busiest of the two stores, or at least it always seemed that way. Maybe it was because the store was smaller. Sam’s sold records and tapes on three levels. There were always a few geeky, nerdy looking guys working at Sam’s just standing around. They would direct customers as to where to find all the older, classical and oddball albums. On the lower street level was where the chart topping and most popular bestselling records were always sold. Prices would be scribbled on the clear cellophane wrapper in black marker and there was always a lineup at the too few cash registers.

On many of my visits to Sam’s, I wouldn’t buy anything.

I would simply go to amuse myself by going up to the top level and looking through some of the record bins. I would find some obscure record by some obscure band I had never heard of before and I would make note of the title and the location where I had found it. There were literally thousands of different records within the hundreds of bins on the upper levels of Sam’s. I would then go back downstairs to test one of the nerdy employees.

“Excuse me, could you tell me if you have the album 'The Electric Band' by The Glass Family for sale?” I asked.

“Yes, go up to the third level. At the top of the stairs turn right and walk to the back wall, it will be in a bin on the left side.” He would reply.

It always freaked me out how they were always right; they knew exactly where every record was located within the store. Over the years, I would test Sam’s employees many times and I never left the store feeling victorious. For me it became an ongoing quest to stump at least one of them just once, but I never could.

After leaving Sam’s there would be a quick stop to watch Joe ‘Kill As You Go’ at work. He was an old man with a massive grey beard who would be out hustling bystanders for a couple bucks. He was a fixture on the strip best known for his one minute games of chess at the corner of Yonge and Gould Streets just outside of Sam’s. The corner became a mecca for chess players partly due to the reputation of Joe. Joe earned himself a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s fastest chess player, often destroying hopefuls who would lose their money thinking they could defeat him.

I never played or understood the game of chess, but I did challenge Joe once to a game of checkers. He told me he was not at all interested in taking my money playing a child’s game.

The Dundas Street subway station was where we would be headed next for our trip back home. But before we hit the subway we always hit the Funland arcade to play a few games of pinball. I loved playing pinball and always played when I was on the strip. There were many arcades on Yonge Street but Funland had the light organ.

The light organ was like a little photo booth, but there was no camera inside. Just like a photo booth you entered through a curtain and once inside you sat down. After depositing a quarter into the machine, Led Zeppelin's 'Whole Lotta Love' began blaring through mammoth speakers positioned on both sides right beside your head. All the while a lame display of red, blue and green floodlights flickered onto a screen in rhythm to the music. My ears would be ringing after the five minute song finished and most times I would play it over again for a second time. It would not be until I was heading home on the subway before my hearing would return back to semi-normal.

Although the Yonge Street strip was much longer, my Yonge Street strip was just over a mile long. A mile I walked so many times during my teenage years. A mile that would always take me at least four hours to complete. It would be the same mile that within thirty years, every one of the places I have mentioned in this story would vanish, never to return.

Today my old Yonge Street strip is nothing but a gungy, condo infested strip of pavement that lacks any character whatsoever. Gone are the spots that made the Yonge Street strip such a unique and a fun place to wander around on a Friday night.

I sure do miss those Friday nights.

Father time can be so cruel at times.