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Streamer’s Hardware closes after 88 years in Cranberry Portage

Devastating fires. Cycles of boom and bust. Fierce competition from the nation’s largest retailers. Each time Streamer’s True Value Hardware has faced an obstacle over the decades, the iconic general store has pulled through.
Streamer’s
The bright blue Streamer’s sign has been marked an iconic local business.

Devastating fires. Cycles of boom and bust. Fierce competition from the nation’s largest retailers.

Each time Streamer’s True Value Hardware has faced an obstacle over the decades, the iconic general store has pulled through.

But now after nearly 90 years in business, its retiring owners unable to find a buyer, the Cranberry Portage landmark will soon close up shop for the last time.

“A lot of them don’t realize what it’s going to be like, because a lot of people right now, even today, don’t believe that we are closing the doors,” says co-owner Wayne Streamer, referring to Cranberry Portage residents. “They think we’re just downsizing and we’ll always be here. That’s not the case. We are closing the doors. That’s it.”

Streamer’s is a rarity in today’s commercial landscape. It’s both a throwback to small-town general stores of yesteryear, dispensing a little bit of seemingly everything, and a savvily run enterprise that has kept up with the times.

The store sells tools, toys, TVs, newspapers and fishing tackle. It cuts keys and rents out U-Haul trailers. It’s also a licensed liquor vendor and a dealer for NetSet Communi-cations’ Internet service.

Situated on the corner of Cranberry Portage’s quaint Main Street, STREAMER’S – as the storefront boldly proclaims in capital white letters over a blue backdrop – has earned its place as one of northern Manitoba’s most cherished institutions.

“It’s going to be a sad day when we close the door for the last time,” says Dale Streamer, Wayne’s brother and business partner. “I’m going to miss visiting day to day with the people, not just the townspeople but summer residents.”

Ambitious

The story of Streamer’s Hardware began in 1927 when an ambitious Englishman named Ernest Albert Streamer landed in Cranberry Portage. At the time, a base camp was being developed for the construction of a new railway into Flin Flon.

E.A., as he was known, was the type of man who stood his ground. He had been living in Winnipeg as a captain with the city’s fire department until a difference of opinion with the chief prompted his resignation.

Hundreds of kilometres north in Cranberry Portage, E.A. saw a golden opportunity for a fresh start.

“There were no services or anything here at the time, and he thought it looked like people would want to stay here,” Wayne, who as a boy knew his grandfather well, recalled in a previous interview. “So he decided he would start up a hardware supply business.”

E.A. returned to Winnipeg, spending late 1927 and early 1928 ordering merchandise and laying the groundwork for the upstart business. He went back to Cranberry Portage that spring, ready to build.

Streamer’s Hardware opened in May 1928, catering largely to trappers, prospectors and miners. Situated along the eastern shoreline of Lake Athapapuskow, the new store was a hit as it joined a burgeoning commerce sector.

But tragedy would soon follow early success. The following year, 1929, a massive forest fire sent Streamer’s – and nearly the entire town – up in smoke.

Fortunately, the same frontier spirit that carved Cranberry Portage out of the harsh northern wilderness would prevail. The town was rebuilt, this time further from the lake, and E.A. helped lead the charge.

The relocated Streamer’s opened on the new gravel Main Street. While  community growth was sluggish in the ’30s and ’40s, demand for the store proved ample.

In a 2008 interview with The Reminder, long-time Cranberry Portage resident Pearl Anderson recalled the early days of Streamer’s.

“A person was in there lots and whatever you needed to buy, you bought, because in those days you didn’t go out of town like you do now,” she said.

Business was still good, but the Second World War years were nonetheless stressful for E.A. With son Fergus overseas, E.A., like so many parents of the era, faced the prospect of his son never returning.

When Fergus did come home, his new life back on friendly soil began as his father’s business partner. Streamer’s was now a second-generation family business.

Growth

The store was about to capitalize on a new era of growth in Cranberry Portage. In 1949 a new highway passed through, linking the small rural town with neighbours and establishing it as a bona fide tourist destination.

Soon a burgeoning logging industry was feasting on the miles of wilderness around the community. More encouraging news came in the mid-1950s when a Cold War-inspired government radar base opened.

Streamer’s kept plowing along nicely under the father-son ownership structure until adversity reared its head again in 1956.

One night, a would-be thief broke into the store. Without the benefit of a flashlight, he lit matches to find his way to the safe, which he hoped to somehow crack.

As tiny flames consumed each wooden stick, the culprit threw them away. The unintended result was an unforgiving blaze. The entire building was lost.

“I just remember waking up and the store was gone, and a couple of days later being in the ruins of it and discovering all kinds of burnt and twisted up objects and trying to guess what they were,” Wayne recalled in 2008.

The anguish of the loss was cushioned by the Streamer family’s chummy relationship with a hardware company representative in Flin Flon.

“He came down here the next morning, after the news was on the radio
and he had already talked to his company in Winnipeg,” recalled Wayne. “He said, ‘Start putting your orders together and we’ll carry you until you can pay for it.’”

Reconstruction commenced and Cranberry Portage eagerly welcomed back its Main Street mainstay.

Though getting on in years, E.A. was still a vital cog in the business he had turned from dream into reality. The passed away in 1963, leaving the future of Streamer’s in Fergus’s hands.

That future did not appear overly bright the following year, 1964, when the radar base, now deemed irrelevant, closed.

But one door’s closure meant another’s opening. In 1965 the base became a residential high school to serve the growing reservations throughout the region.

Frontier Collegiate Institute employed locals in various capacities and brought an influx of young people 10 months of the year.

Meanwhile, Streamer’s reached into its third generation of the family. Fergus’s sons, Wayne and Dale, began full-time work and would eventually become managing partners. Wayne’s son, Scott, would later work at the store as well.

Even with the advent of malls and big box retailers in nearby Flin Flon and The Pas, Streamer’s, through smart diversification, continued to draw customers from  throughout the region.

Interestingly, just as Streamers was built to serve trappers, prospectors and miners, 87 years later people in those professions are still among the store’s clientele.

Now ready to retire, Wayne and Dale have been trying to sell Streamer’s for the past three years. While there has been some interest, a deal could not be reached.

“There’s nothing wrong with the business. It’s just that we’re done,” says Wayne.

While a bittersweet flavour surrounds the pending closure – the final day has not been determined – the Streamers are looking forward to the next chapter of their lives.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to miss the long hours,” says Wayne with a laugh. “We used to have the movie theatre here, too, so we we’re in here six days a week, closed Sunday, and in the theatre six nights a week, closed Monday.”

So after nearly nine decades in business, what will it be like to shut off the lights at Streamer’s once and for all?

“Don’t really know yet,” says Wayne. “When we close the doors for the last time, we will.”

– With files from Valerie Durnin

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