You had me, Edmonton, and then you lost me: 49 days left at the Toronto Star, 49 memories

Edmonton in 1980 wasn’t such a bad city. I rather liked it at first.

After all, the Edmonton Journal gave me my first big break as a journalist following a two-year stint at the Sarnia Observer from 1976–1978.

But by 1980, I was getting restless again. My dream was always Toronto, but I was willing to let Edmonton prove me wrong.

The city had most of what I wanted. I loved the mountains, the air, the Oilers, Gretzky, the Eskimos, the all-around freshness.

But I suppose I was looking for bigger. Toronto big.

I wasn’t drawn in by Edmonton’s folksy charm like many would be. I wanted to experience Toronto’s hauteur. I wanted crowds and hustle and to be the centre of it all.

I wanted more than just the NHL and the CFL. In Toronto, Major League Baseball had come to Canada, and I wanted a piece of that action too.

In my adolescence, I was mesmerized by how magazine ads portrayed the night life of big cities.

You remember. The photos of nightclubs with neon signs showing the outline of a girl sitting seductively inside a martini glass and swinging her legs over the side.

I didn’t like the remoteness of Edmonton.

If you grow up in Ontario and anywhere near Toronto, you might take for granted that this province is the centre of power.

When you’re in Edmonton, you’re always watching big news break back East. As a journalist, you want to be at the centre of the action. I wanted to be in the media capital of the land.

I don’t want to come down too hard on Edmonton here, but you lost me too when I saw Alberta Beach.

I remember coming back from a trip to Jasper and seeing a sign to Alberta Beach off the highway. Oh, I said to my wife, maybe I’ve been too hasty. Maybe I have misjudged Alberta.

We followed the signs to Alberta Beach hoping to find a clear lake with a beach as the sign promised.

After a few miles, we got to Alberta Beach, and I was dismayed. It wasn’t even close to resembling a beach, unless your idea of a beach is a small piece of land populated by overgrown reeds.

Maybe it’s changed. Maybe I missed something. I don’t know.

The city was also making me feel claustrophobic.

We take it for granted in Ontario that you can have dinner in Hamilton, see a concert in Toronto and have drinks in Oakville or Mississauga, all on the same night.

In about the same time it takes to drive from Edmonton to Calgary, in Toronto you can go through Oakville, Burlington, Hamilton, and hit Niagara-on-the-Lake, Niagara Falls and Buffalo.

We spent all our time in Edmonton and it dulled our sense of adventure. I needed to see things, to hit the road and see what surprises the Prairies had in store.

Alberta didn’t provide that escape.

Yes, it has the wonders of Jasper and Banff. But Jasper is a four-hour drive away. We tried. One time we drove south to Red Deer to see what it was like. There wasn’t much to see.

The final straw came one Saturday night after my wife and I went out to a nice dinner atop a revolving restaurant at the Chateau Lacombe Hotel.

After a few drinks loosened me up, I threw out a crazy idea. It wasn’t too late. We’d never seen Calgary. Why don’t we drive to Calgary, catch some night life, and stay over and return the next day?

It would be a new adventure and a break from the boredom that was settling in.

My wife agreed and we set off at around 9 p.m. Don’t forget this was 1980 or so, and I didn’t realize what we were getting ourselves into. The drive was about three hours south, along a flat stretch of highway.

I remember arriving in Calgary around midnight, and finding out, to my horror, that even though this was Saturday, the bars and restaurants downtown had already closed up.

You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. This was only midnight. It was Saturday. Apart from some hookers roaming the downtown streets, there was no action to be had anywhere.

Subdued and defeated, we checked into a downtown hotel, slept off our disappointment and returned to Edmonton bright and early the next day.

Nice weekend. I had to get back east or lose my mind.

Remember, this was 1980, and I know a lot has changed in Alberta since then.

The one part of Edmonton that I took for granted, however, was the connection to my colleagues, and that’s a result of staff living within a short distance of each other, quite unlike the case in sprawling Toronto where it’s more difficult to grow those bonds.

That’s a part of Edmonton I can’t get back.

I know I’m biased. Maybe because I grew up in Ontario. Our families were from here. And I suppose I wasn’t there long enough to let Edmonton grow on me.

After three pretty happy years in Edmonton, I was on the job hunt again. It was Toronto or bust.

One day in the spring of 1981, George Gross, sports editor at the Toronto Sun, answered my prayers. A sports copy-editing job was available. I was coming home. This time to stay.

This is my daily countdown of stories and memories from a 40-year career of writing and editing at the Toronto Star, the Sarnia Observer, Edmonton Report, Edmonton Journal and Toronto Sun. I will retire at the end of April. I will be 63 and ready to reinvent myself. Into what I have no idea yet. Suggestions welcome.