Manchester, Robertson, and Allison, best known as MRA’s, was the largest department store in St. John, New Brunswick. It was founded by James Manchester, James Robertson and Joseph Allison in 1866 as a dry goods and general merchandise store. That meant they sold things like clothing, millinery, furniture, carpet and household furnishings.
Over the years that store grew and grew.
The eventual expansion into at least two adjacent buildings on King Street made it a very complex store; hard to find your way around inside and easy to get lost.
When I was young, my grandmother, my Nanny Ayles, would take me with her when she went shopping at MRA’s. As a treat she took me to MRA’s Tea Room. I really enjoyed their tea and apple pie every time we went there. I had my own tea pot that made two cups of tea and of course the apple pie.
The events leading up to the crises on December 4th, 1954, began after supper when mom decided to take five of us kids with her to do some Christmas shopping. This meant 12 year-old Norman, 10 year-old Raymond (me), 8 year-old Glen, 7 year-old Kenny and 4 year-old Mary all tagged along with Mom. Norman and I knew that we were expected to look out for the younger ones.
At home was Nanny Ayles looking after three-year-old David and nine month old Joanne. My dad was working a double shift at the port of Saint John as a Steam Ship Checker.
The bus ride from where we lived in our cold water flat at 203 Victoria St. to the shops uptown was an adventure for us and shopping with mom was a special treat because we knew MRA’s had a Toyland and we were anticipating all the great toys we might see.
The entrance to Toyland was an archway similar to a castle decorated with Christmas lights. Two big toy soldiers wearing red and black uniforms and those tall, black, bear-skin fur hats stood at attention, on either side.
We were so enthralled that we forgot about watching little Mary.
To this day Mary recalls some scary moments when she turned her attention from the toys, looked around, and couldn’t see anyone she knew. She went looking for familiar faces and finding none she kept looking until she found herself outside the store somewhere on King Street.
Eventually we realized Mary was missing and Mom sent us to search. We didn’t have any luck. Soon other people volunteered to help but no one could find Mary. We were beginning to feel desperate so the store manager suggested we go to the Police Station and report Mary missing.
Unknown to us a Good Samaritan, a woman walking up King street with her son noticed Mary alone and crying. The woman stopped to ask her where her parents were. Of course Mary said, “I didn't know!”
So the woman sent her son to get a policeman who was directing traffic at the head of King Street. The policeman came to see Mary, assessed the situation, then hailed a Police cruiser who took Mary to the Station.
Meanwhile we hurried to make our way to the Police Station.
When we entered there was Mary sitting in a chair too big for her, licking a huge ice cream cone, butterscotch ripple to be exact, my all-time favourite flavour!
We were overjoyed and shared a collective sigh of relief as we ran to hug her!
Well now; let me say this about the ice cream cone Mary was enjoying: I was jealous because in those days ice cream was a rare treat so, of course I asked for a taste.
But do you think this four-year-old was going to give me, her big brother, a lick of her ice cream? No Way Jose!
Mom thanked the Police staff for looking after Mary and buying her the ice cream. On the bus ride back to the north end of Saint John, Mary sat on my lap still licking her ice cream. I yearned for a taste and I was so close…If I just leaned a bit forward I could have…
But I didn't.
Raymond Pierce is a Storyteller living in Toronto, Canada
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