The Reminder is making its archives back to 2003 available on our website. Please note that, due to technical limitations, archive articles are presented without the usual formatting.
Nobody who's grown up here can look at the "For Sale" sign on Johnny's Confectionery without some sorrow. With the building on the market, its future as a convenience store up in the air, the strange concept of Flin Flon sans Johnny's is still sinking in. For so many years, Johnny's has been a veritable mini-mall. It has carried nearly everything you can think of, from toys, hardware and CDs to candy, fishing gear and hockey sticks. Living just a stone's throw away, I was at Johnny's constantly as a kid. If I wasn't buying a Coke or renting a movie, I could be found checking out the comic book rack that squeaked when you spun it (Superman was my favourite). Sometimes the neighbourhood kids, frozen stiff from hockey at the nearby "bunk," would head over to thaw out with a hot chocolate at the store's famed coffee bar. There were many winter nights we were lucky in the extreme to find seats! I grew up knowing that pretty much anything I ever needed could be had with a short walk (and the necessary allowance money) to this northern staple. Because Johnny's was so familiar, it wasn't until I was older that I realized what a landmark it is, particularly the chatter-fueled coffee bar. A few years ago, I did local news reports for CBC Radio. Once, when the topic of Johnny's came up, even Thompson-based host Mark Szyszlo knew all about the legend. "That's where you go when you want to know what's happening in town," he enthusiastically said (or something very similar... I wasn't taking notes). It was also as I got older that I began to understand the appeal of the so-called Johnny's Coffee Club, that consortium of mostly older men you see constantly sipping java at the coffee bar. When I was younger, I used to look at them and think, "Man, no coffee on earth can be that good!" Today, although I haven't joined this club, I can appreciate the simple pleasure of the experience. It's not the coffee; it's the people. I can't count the number of times I've passed by Johnny's well after closing and spotted a handful of coffee drinkers continuing to shoot the breeze by the entranceway. When I learned that big box stores were coming to town, I sincerely hoped this landmark wouldn't suffer. I just had this picture in my mind of Johnny's as something that would always be there, no matter what. It's as Flin Flonian as mining, cold weather and the Bombers. Even though I consider myself a strong supporter of neighbourhood establishments, I found that my shopping habits changed with the arrival of the big box era. It wasn't even really a conscious thing. Then one day someone mentioned a separate corner store and I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd been there. That wasn't something I was proud of, so I made it a point to frequent places like Johnny's more often. But I'm only one customer. Due to altered shopping practices, Johnny's says sales have dropped by just over half since 2002. Jason Morran, whose family has owned the store for more than three decades, summed things up succinctly: "We just can't compete." I'd love nothing more than to see things turn around, for a buyer to step into the picture and keep Johnny's just as it has been for as long as I can remember. As I said, nobody who's grown up here can look at that "For Sale" sign without some sorrow. Local Angle runs Fridays.
