Going shopping at Sutcliffe’s store in 1930

‘Twas the week before Christmas, 1930, when a Model ‘A’ sedan pulls up before the J. Sutcliffe & Sons department store in downtown Lindsay. Up in the front seat is a father and his seven-year-old son, who is bundled in a heavy blanket (manufactured a few blocks away at the Horn Bros. Woollen Mill). In the back, the man’s wife and their eight-year-old daughter have kicked off their shoes, taking advantage of the heat from engine exhaust rising through the car’s wooden floorboards.

A light snow is falling as the Model ‘A’ comes to a rest in the angled parking spot in front of the impressive building, opened only a week previous. The father sets the car’s handbrake, turns off the roaring engine, and helps his passengers out into the slush that has accumulated by the curbside. They have driven into town from somewhere out in the country, eager to see how J. Sutcliffe & Sons has transformed itself into a thoroughly modern department store – Lindsay’s answer, perhaps, to the glorious temple of retail operated by the T. Eaton & Co. in Toronto.

This isn’t the family’s first shopping excursion to Mr. Sutcliffe’s store. Indeed, a holiday outing to Sutcliffe’s has been a tradition going back decades. The man behind the wheel of the Model ‘A’ was about his son’s age when he paid a visit to the first incarnation of J. Sutcliffe & Sons, in 1897.

It was a much smaller store back then. J.B. Warner had died and his business was acquired by the Sutcliffe family, late of Toronto. Starting with a modest premises on the north side of Kent Street, Sutcliffe’s eventually expanded out to William Street via the acquisition of the Pym House Hotel in 1916. Everyone knew that it was Mr. Sutcliffe’s goal to become “Lindsay largest store” – and he set about to prove the point via a series of verbose advertising campaigns over the years. “Little Money Makes a Great Christmas if you patronize THE SUTCLIFFE STORE,” decreed a front-page ad in 1904. More promotional gimmicks followed, the most elaborate of which might have been an 18-hole miniature golf course occupying the entire second floor of the Kent and William Street property.

Now, in 1930, Sutcliffe’s had seemingly reached its zenith by building a brand-new store on the south side of Lindsay’s bustling main street. This family of four keeps together as they pass through the front entrance of the white-brick facade, stopping to admire a pair of enormous windows that have been described as “the most modern construction, banded by copper with the display space unhampered and having the back of the window done in cathedral glass for better lighting.” That lighting was designed to turn on and off automatically at designated times, casting its warm glow onto the assortment of wares tastefully arranged in the windows to the delight of young and old alike.

The main floor is home to a spacious men’s wear department, a women’s dress goods department, a roomy home furnishings department, and a linens and dry goods department overseen by the aptly-named Mr. Woolley. The space is decorated in what the papers have called a “quiet and restrained beauty, with the general scheme being buff and ivory with the fixtures in walnut.” Upstairs, the millinery and children’s wear departments are located adjacent to the large washroom facilities, while a modern heating system has been lauded as being the best in Lindsay.

Though their mother and father might relish these creature comforts while inspecting the assortment of embroidered linen handkerchiefs, men’s silk scarves, and fur coats, the kids scarcely notice. They are too busy admiring the smartly-dressed dolls and pressed steel dump trucks, fire trucks, and automotive garages on display in Sutcliffe’s somewhat scanty toy department. A couple of years previous, in 1928, Santa Claus arrived in Lindsay by way of the Canadian National Railway and made his way straight to Sutcliffe & Sons. This year, he will be holding court at the competing Canadian Department Stores “Toyland,” a block and a half away. C.D.S., these siblings agree, also has the superior selection of toys – from construction sets to toy pianos and wind-up trains. But of course they know enough to be grateful for whatever they unwrap on Christmas morning, whether the jolly old elf procured it from Sutcliffe & Sons or some other retailer. They are, after all, heading into the second holiday season since worldwide economic depression settled across the nation.

This family will make only one more annual holiday visit to J. Sutcliffe & Sons after this year. Times were hard, and in January 1932 the department store declared bankruptcy on account of “existing conditions.” Four years later, the business had apparently reorganized and emerged as “Sutcliffe and Sons Ladies’ Wear.” It too would be gone by the end of the decade, and in 1945 the grand building became home to Lindsay Cleaners. By the mid-1970s, it was occupied by Wippert’s Art Shop and Ace Submarine. It has since vanished from the streetscape entirely.

Today, it is hard to imagine that Lindsay was once home to large department stores such as that built by J. Sutcliffe & Sons. Ninety-five years ago, though, they captured imaginations during the festive season.