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Free Calendars at Christmas Collecting calendars was once a seasonal ritual on main street. BY KEN WEBER
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t the turn of the past century, a number of local merchants here in the hills began offering wall calendars at Christmastime. Grand Valley clothier A.O. Taylor was one of the first off the mark, telling citizens he would give away a “beautifully engraved 1901 calendar” with any order for a suit ($15−$18). The same year, just up the street, T. H. Hamilton also offered calendars, but with a difference. His were neither engraved nor beautiful, but they were free for the taking, and “free” turned out to be a big hit. The calendars were so popular that over the next few years, newspapers began to report which stores were offering free ones. By the end of the decade, the novelty had become the norm. In every town, village and hamlet, Christmas shoppers were picking up more calendars than they would ever use.
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A payoff for the merchant The ritual was a cost for the merchant, but it had a two-fold benefit. The first was ongoing promotion. Unlike newspaper ads or handbills, calendars hung in full view for a year, complete with a business’s phone number and often its service and product distinctions. The second, more subtle benefit was goodwill. In its 1944 offering, the Bolton Dairy and Locker Storage Plant, for example, made sure its name and “Compliments of” stood out in bold print beneath a gentle nature scene. In rural communities, such calendars reminded customers their merchants were their neighbours. In turn, by hanging calendars in their homes, customers were indicating a touch of loyalty. The system worked for both sides.
A payoff for the customers Wall calendars added a convenience many homes once lacked. To check
a date it was easier to glance at the calendar picked up at S. T. Phoenix’s store in Shelburne than to dig through the Farmer’s Almanac. And the calen dar had visual appeal. The picture on Phoenix’s 1945 calendar, for example, was a still life of flowers. As simple as it was, it provided some pleasing art on a kitchen wall at a time before art prints were widely available. When the ritual was at its height, it was not uncommon for a family to hang half a dozen or more calendars in their home. The most attractive ones had staying power too. George Berney, former proprietor of his family’s hardware store in Caledon East, describes visiting the home of an elderly cus tomer in Palgrave in the early 1970s and spotting a calendar from 1931 still hanging on a wall. An especially attractive image was often cut out and framed. A pastoral scene featuring a flock of sheep, for instance, offered by Orangeville miller Henry Watt in 1911, was allegedly preserved for years in
parlours all over Mono and Amaranth townships.
As for the pictures … Unlike today’s wall calendars, which often have full pages for each month, those early calendars had a single image with a pad of 12 tear-off months attached below. That made the choice of picture crucial, and most merchants opted for something pleasant and safe, like a child with a dog. Such an image appeared in the 1949 giveaway at E. G. Stewart’s shoe store in Bolton. Carole (Rowe) Whitehead, who still has a copy of this calendar, remembers seeing many just like it. She also remembers pictures with drama being popular. “In the days before television,” Carole says, “if a picture made you wonder what was going to happen next, it could be interesting every time you looked at it.” Lang’s butcher shop in Orangeville offered a typical example in 1942 – a freeze frame of
