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One such literal door was of an elevator which opened into a big time lawyer's office on Bay Street in downtown Toronto. I had the memorable opportunity of stepping out and sinking into a posh, light grey broadloom carpet.
That was traveling into the world of luxury. Same sensation I enjoyed in stepping into a top international tobacco company’s old time elevator in Montreal when I went looking for ads.
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That was around 1980. The old, stately, gold-plated elevator was operated by an elderly, uniformed black man in white gloves. The elderly, obviously faithful, black man serving in that position seemed reminiscent of the life of luxury plantation owners enjoyed during the grand old days of slavery; and, even of luxury travel on grand old railways at the height of their glory.
Can you believe it? The poor, barefoot, black boy from Anguilla in the Caribbean – or, was it really Angola in Africa, as was often asked? – growing up to travel all the way to Montreal with a new concept magazine venture that opened up opportunities, doors, boardrooms and penthouse offices which just a special set are ever afforded.
By the way, I secured several full colour ads that would have brought in a whopping CAN$30, 000, if my wife and I had succeeded in getting the magazine off the ground.
Yes, you are right in that I did say the initial idea and the concept of publishing a light-hearted periodical was mine and mine alone. So, how, when and where did my WASP wife came in, you ask.