Living more sustainably is possible. The last century is full of examples that could now inspire our ecological transition. In his series L’histoire à l’envers, Le Devoir examines the memory of those who came to know this world in a more sober way in terms of energy and resources.
Michèle Stanton-Jean’s father was a civil servant in Quebec. In the 1940s and 1950s, his legs were his means of transportation. Every day he walked the five kilometers between his home near the Saint-Sacrement hospital and his workplace. “He even came to the house for lunch! They were very long walks and he never used public transport. He did it with a friend,” says his daughter, who was born in 1937.
At that time, life for Quebecers — at least those in the cities — was largely car-free. They traveled on foot, by bicycle or by tram. Daily life revolved more around the home, neighborhood and local services. The majority of poor families simply could not afford a car.
Even a civil servant like Roger-Henry Stanton, a chartered accountant who graduated from McGill University, didn’t have enough income to afford a car while supporting his five children. “He didn’t have a big salary under Duplessis,” explains his daughter. So he left. And of course the rest of his family did the same.
“We did everything on foot,” summarizes Ms. Stanton-Jean, who lived in Quebec until she was 22, in 1959. As a child, she went to school alone. As the wind and snow blew in her face, she backed up. The sidewalk and street were not always cleared very well: men cleared them with shovels. They fill the snow into “barrels” that are pulled by horses.
As a teenager, she would cycle to Bellevue College, several miles from her home, to complete her classical studies course. Ms Stanton-Jean, a historian by training, recalls a city that was more pedestrian friendly. “There weren’t many cars,” she emphasizes. “Now it’s madness! »
The first motorized means of transport she used in the city was the tram. She wanted to buy newspapers for her father. And she also took the tram to her guide meetings. “I grew up in a carless civilization,” she says.
In his Quebec neighborhood – the parish of Saints-Martyrs-Canadiens – “the priest didn’t want to know that there were shops.” There were therefore very few local services. Ms Stanton-Jean’s mother did her shopping by telephone ‘at Mr Vachon’, who took her to his home. She also ordered medicines from the pharmacy. In order to procure certain goods, such as shoes, the family had to travel to downtown Quebec.
children at large
Andrée Lévesque, born in 1939, grew up in Outremont on the island of Montreal. Her rather wealthy family owned a car in the 1940s. Her father drove her to work “downtown”. His mother went shopping on foot, especially at Steinberg’s. “We used local services and walked,” notes Ms Lévesque.
At the age of seven, she was part of the swarm of children who went to school alone on the street. “We weren’t alone on the sidewalk,” she recalls. The strength of numbers made the journey safer. At the age of 10, the young girl got on her bike and cycled down the street – of course without a helmet on her head. “One has to consider that the children were much less supervised. »
This octogenarian remembers residential streets full of pedestrians. City dwellers often went to large parks like Mount Royal for a walk or a picnic. And in the evenings, because they couldn’t watch TV, the adults went for walks in their neighborhood. “It’s less visible now,” she says.
The young Andrée Lévesque also walked to the cinema. At that time, access to the “Prospects” was forbidden for persons under the age of 16. (This law dates back in part to the horrific fire at Laurier Palace in 1927 that killed 78 children.) “When I was 13, I started going to the movies and putting on lipstick [pour paraître plus vieille]. Well, we went. »
“When I first started dating, we used to go to the movies. We traveled by tram or bus. Before we got married it was impossible for him and me to own a car, it was out of the question. When I started college none of my friends had cars. Some might be able to borrow their parents’ car for the weekend, but that was the exception rather than the rule. We got everywhere by tram, bus and on foot. »
“My parents never had a car. “It was never a problem,” observes Robert McGreggor, born in 1940. His father, a railroad worker, never drove a car in his life. Despite his Scottish surname, the boy grew up surrounded by his mother’s Italian family in Montreal’s Little Italy. With one exception, his uncles didn’t have a car either.
“The interest was home then,” notes Mr. McGreggor. Today, he says, people don’t want to spend their free time playing cards. “I remember when I was little, every Sunday we would have dinner with a family member or a group would come and have dinner with us. We walked, we were all in the same neighborhood, avenue Henri-Julien, de Gaspé, rue Saint-Denis…”
How to organize the great return to active and public transport in Quebec’s cities in the 21st century? It’s hard to give up the big cars that offer comfort and isolation… “We really need to change everything, the mentality as well as the urban space,” says Ms. Lévesque. You cannot do one without doing the other. If people want individualistic solutions, they will not be willing to accept collective solutions. »