The Warmth (No Kidding!) Of Winnipeg

by Shira Vickar-Fox
Special To The Jewish Week

Poor Winnipeg. The capital city of the province of Manitoba is cold and isolated on the plains of Canada. It is also the butt of jokes. In “The Office” last fall, dim Michael Scott boasts about an international business trip and makes it sound like he’s going to an exotic locale. The corporate office sends him from Scranton to Winnipeg because he’s the only one willing to go.

I was born in Winnipeg and most of my family still lives there, but I’m not offended by the teasing. I don’t mind any mention of Winnipeg, even a mocking one, because I am filled with nostalgia for a city that holds many happy childhood memories.

To outsiders Winnipeg is known — if at all

— for its frigid weather, great fishing and the legendary hockey player Bobby Hull. For me, Winnipeg is cinnamon buns from Gunn’s bakery, the beach and my Baba and Zaida’s home on Ruperstland Boulevard.

Many outsiders are also unaware of Winnipeg’s vibrant and long-standing Jewish community. “For a city our size we have an amazing array of institutions and culture,” said Allan Levine, a Winnipeg writer and historian, “rich beyond most communities 10 times our size.” In its heyday in the 1960s, the Jewish population was around 19,000. Today the number is approximately 14,000 Jews in a city of 650,000 people, according to Levine and the City of Winnipeg.

Levine is the author of 10 books. His latest, “Coming of Age: A History of the Jewish People of Manitoba,” was released this week. It’s about the people who created and sustained a Jewish community in Winnipeg and the province over the last 130 years. (My dad’s ancestors, early settlers of the province of Saskatchewan and then developers of Winnipeg, are the subjects of a chapter in his book.)

Jews began arriving in Winnipeg in the late 19th century. They were enticed by the Canadian government, with the assistance of a British humanitarian organization, to leave the shtetls of Eastern Europe and settle Western Canada. Most Jews arrived poor, but in typical immigrant fashion, they pushed their children to succeed, and within two generations their families thrived in the city’s north end. They were clothing manufacturers, merchants, real estate moguls and entrepreneurs.

“Take New York’s Lower East Side, and Winnipeg’s North End is a smaller version of what’s going on there,” said Levine.

The Jews built synagogues and day schools. Yiddish culture flourished. “Emma Goldman would come here and famous actors would come and play in the Queens Theatre on Selkirk Avenue,” said Levine.
Like the long-ago Jewish neighborhoods of the Bronx, Winnipeg was a comfortable place to grow up. My mom, for example, lived within blocks of grandparents, aunts, uncles and dozens of cousins.

She spent summers (yes, there is a summer) there at Winnipeg Beach and Camp Massad. I too attended Camp Massad, and Levine was a counselor there in the 1970s. It was established in 1953 and remains the only Hebrew-immersion camp in Western Canada. Many Jews continue to own cottages at the beach or in nearby Gimli; the scene is more Catskills than Hamptons.

“There is a nostalgia,” said Levine. “People are always saying, ‘I’m from Winnipeg.’” Jews with a connection to Winnipeg have one degree of separation from each other.

Most of the Jewish community’s resources are now housed in the Asper Jewish Community Campus, opened in 1997 on 14 sprawling acres in the city’s south end. Most Jews live within five miles of the campus, according to Levine. The campus is home to an athletic center, the Jewish Museum of Western Canada, federation, a day school and other Jewish organizations. The center has a fantastic indoor pool and play space that’s nicer than anything I’ve seen in the New York area.

When I was a child, my grandparents would drive to my parent’s house in St. Louis with a trunk loaded with Winnipeg treats such as cinnamon buns and Omnitsky’s hot dogs. The cinnamon buns were square and came six to a package. Baba would slice them in half, toast them and shmear butter on top — pure heaven.
Winnipeg became the embodiment of my Baba and Zaida, who died in the 1990s. Because of them all of my associations with the city are sweet and wholesome.

Winnipeg has evolved; many people left for better job opportunities and more temperate weather. There are 10 synagogues remaining in a city that once had more than 40. Meat is imported from Toronto and Montreal because there is no longer a kosher butcher.

But Winnipeg is still home to the bulk of my family. It is still a place I enjoy visiting and the only city with lots of Vickars listed in the phone book.

I love it when Winnipeg is knocked by scriptwriters or cited by meteorologists for its extreme cold. Hearing the name of the city returns me to my happy place.

And I’m sure the scriptwriters never enjoyed a toasted Gunn’s cinnamon bun.

Shira Vickar-Fox is editor of The Jewish Week’s teen supplement Fresh Ink.