December 3, 1956 was the most amazing day. It changed my life forever.

It was a Monday morning and I was preparing to get my new Canadian Social Insurance Number. My sister, Sissy, had arranged a temporary shelter for me in her rooming house. The only room available in the same house where she lived was tiny, like a closet with a bed and a chest of drawers. I knew that I had to get a bigger place, but first things first.

After getting my Social Insurance Number, I planned to go back to my room with a newspaper so that I could study the Help Wanted ads. I walked along St. Catherine’s Street in downtown Montreal, towards Bishop Street and my current abode. Then something strange happened. I read the street sign, Rue de la Montagne. I thought that it was such a pretty name. Only heaven knows why I turned there. Something pulled me to turn right here, one street before Bishop Street. Quite a few of the houses had signs saying ‘Room for Rent.’ I was on the right track and I thought that I might as well investigate what kinds of rooms were available. All of a sudden, amongst a row of grey houses, I saw a cheerful-looking bright yellow one with a sign in the window.

Without hesitation I walked through the front door and entered its large foyer. Stairs led up to the second floor. A woman, presumably the landlady, was talking to a tall gentleman standing on the staircase. I overhead him say to her, “I am looking for a demonstrator to sell my toys in Eaton’s Department Store. Do you know someone looking for a job?” I thought that there was no harm in asking the gentleman about the job. He turned to me and said, “Don’t you have a job, young lady? If you are looking for one, let’s talk about it in my room.”

I told him, “I have just arrived from New York, via Paris. I am a Canadian Landed Immigrant, ready and eager to work.”

He showed me the magnetic board games that his import company, Alexander’s Novelties – headquartered in Toronto – wanted to sell in department stores throughout Ontario and Quebec. Then he introduced himself as Bill Kaiser from Toronto. When I spoke to him I noticed a certain twinkle in his eyes. In fact, his eyes were the same bright sea blue as those of the famous movie star from Hamburg, Hans Albers. His eyes had always hypnotized me, and these new ones sent up a warning flag. I said to myself, “Be careful, young lady. Something is happening to you.” My heart beat faster than usual.

Bill and his partner, Eric Weston, had an importing company that brought in merchandise from Germany, the U.S. and Japan. Bill was the Sales Manager who distributed their merchandise to the different stores. If necessary, he hired personnel to do the selling. This was the situation in Montreal. He had set up a deal with the manager of the toy department in Eaton’s. Bill wanted to unload four hundred popular magnetic games there. The catch was that he also had to provide a sales representative/demonstrator to show how the games worked. Bill would not make his sales target if the games just sat on shelves in their boxes. The commission was fifty cents per game, which retailed at $4.98. That translated to $200 for me, a fortune. It would take me four months to earn that kind of money in Germany. I was really eager for such an opportunity.

Without stopping at Bishop Street, I went with this stranger to Eaton’s – straight to the toy department on the 5th floor. I didn’t even have time to fix my hair or anything. The toy department manager took one look at me, smiled and said to Bill, “It certainly did not take you long to find such a delightful young lady for the job.” I felt the blood rush to my cheeks because I was almost embarrassed by all of this adulation. In any case, I was accepted for the job and was to start the next day, Tuesday, December 4th. I was excused from the three-day training course and dropped cold turkey into the toy department, where part of a counter was assigned to me. I had to wing it the best I could.

Bill had me to himself for the rest of the day. He showed me the ropes and gave me some very valuable tips in that training period. We went back to his rooming house where I viewed the room for rent. Madame Benoit, the landlady, was very friendly to me. We agreed to the rental terms and she gave me a key to her house. The room was on the second floor and had a view of Rue de la Montagne. It had two windows, was cheerfully decorated, and was large enough for my needs.

Bill and I set up a contract. I agreed to sell the merchandise. Alexander’s Novelties would supply the games in a timely manner and pay me fifty cents commission per game. I called this security, knowing that I would be able to feed myself for quite some time.

There were the usual questions when setting up the contract: “What is your name and where were you born?”

“Michaela Hofinger.”

He answered, “Michaela Hofinger, that sounds German.”

“I was born in Salzburg, Austria.”

Bill said, “I was born in Hamburg, Germany. So we could actually talk German. Your future customers do not know the name Michaela and they would have difficulty pronouncing it. How would it be if I called you Michelle? That is a popular name in English and in French.”

I was pleased with my new name. I hated ‘Michaela’, especially the way Onkel Otto pronounced it: Micha-e-la. Bill also asked me if I had any references. I was happy to provide him with recommendations from my jobs with the US Armed Forces’ Administration in Salzburg and Munich. He was impressed.

Bill gave me an instruction sheet, in English and French, on how to play the board games. One was a car racing game and the other one was called Cat and Mouse. The mouse would try to run away, but she usually got cornered and caught by the magnet/cat. I was very quick at mastering the mechanics of the game.

I suggested that the best way to know where the magnet is, was to start in the corner of the board. Out came that gleam in Bill’s eyes again as he approved of my quick grasp of the situation. I said that learning the French version in a jiffy was no problem. Bill was surprised that I could speak French besides English and German. I knew only a few French words, but was pretty good at pronouncing them and reading them out loud. Then I said that I had to go home and unpack some of my things. After all, I had just arrived in Montreal. Bill invited me to dinner that night and we agreed to meet at 7 p.m. at my rooming house.

I thought that I might as well make a good impression on Bill, so I put on my Kelly green pullover and my full felt skirt that I had bought in Vienna. My waist was cinched with a shiny metal belt that I had bought at the Vienna Opera Centre, a fashionable underground shopping centre. My new black velvet pumps finished my outfit. I felt like a queen. After checking my hair one last time, I put on die Ziege and went downstairs. Afterwards, Bill told me that I seemed like a beautiful princess to him.

Bill arrived punctually. He said, “I would like to take you to a top night club called Chez Parée. I think you will like it.” When we entered the club many eyes looked at me. The maitr’d took us to a table right next to the stage, which was on an elevated platform. The featured performer was Vic Damone. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was a very well known singer from Hollywood and I liked his style very much.

We ate dinner. When the band came on we danced to the newest hit tunes. I had drunk a little wine with my dinner and felt truly wonderful. It was like dancing in heaven. Bill looked at me all the time. We sat down only because the floorshow was about to begin.

Vic Damone appeared to much applause. With the spot light on him, he began singing, “I have often walked on this street before.” He turned and saw me. With outstretched hands, he came towards me, took my hands, and knelt down to sing to me. He directed the spotlight to shine on me. Everybody looked. Bill just beamed. I was overwhelmed. Was this really happening to me, only 48 hours after my arrival from New York? The applause was thundering and I stood up and nodded to the nightclub patrons. A reporter came to the table and asked me if I was from Montreal. I whispered into his ear that I had just arrived from New York, via Paris, after crossing the Atlantic on the Queen Elizabeth. This news was relayed to Vic Damone. He came out of his dressing room, walked straight to our table, and said, “Welcome to Montreal, Mademoiselle de Paris.” Then he sang Mademoiselle de Paris.

I was flabbergasted. He came back, kissed my hand, and asked me for the next dance. I said, “I’m sorry, I have a previous engagement. But, I love to hear you sing. Please sing another song.” He sang Mademoiselle de Paris again.

Bill thought that it was time for us to disappear, before too many Frenchmen noticed me. He wanted me to himself. We went to another nightclub, The Bellevue Casino. There was a small band with violins and guitars. It was very intimate and we danced tête-à-tête.

Bill believed that he was dressed very smartly in his dark blue suit with thin silver stripes. It had been the dernier cri when he bought it in Hamburg, but I thought that it looked more like the suits that gangsters always wore in the movies. Bill told me that he was very glad that I had rejected Vic Damone’s invitation and decided to stay with him. My answer was to the point and even surprised me. I said, “Your gangster stripe suit does not impress me very much, Sir, but I made my decision on the basis of the man IN that gangster stripe suit.” Bill was bemused by my answer, but took it in stride. He showed his very good sense of humour by laughing at my blunt remark.

It was late when Bill took me back to my rooming house. In the early morning hours I lay on my bed and imagined that my feet were dancing on the ceiling to one of the songs played in the nightclub, Dancing on the Ceiling.

The next morning, December 4th, I terminated my rental at Bishop Street. Bill picked me up in his car and moved me to Madame Benoit’s. I only had one small suitcase at this time. My two large suitcases and sea sack had not yet arrived from New York.

Bill dropped me off at Eaton’s, where I began my first day of work. He said that he would come back at 5 o’clock, after my shift. When I got to my workstation the friendly department manager introduced me to my fellow workers. Everybody was called by their first name. I thought that this was very congenial. In Europe I was always called ‘Miss Hofinger,’ but here I was accepted as ‘Michelle’ right away. I had to share the toy counter with a Frenchman named Francis. I told him that I was new and that my French was not very good. He was willing to help me out when I could not answer questions that people asked me in French. His line of toys consisted of hockey games. We got along very well.

Bill came by to see how I was doing. He said, “I think that I should introduce you to the shipper from the warehouse. He is a very important contact. Whenever you need more games, you are to call him to bring some more immediately.” The shipper’s name was Roy. He was a big black fellow. He liked me right away and promised to get ‘my’ games on his next trolley, whenever I needed them.

As promised, Bill picked me up after work. He said, “Now that your first successful day of work is behind you, we have to celebrate.” We decided to go strolling through downtown Montreal to see if anything interesting was happening. The whole Rue de St. Catherine’s was so European, so cosmopolitan. We discovered Sepp’s, a German delicatessen. I was delighted because they had all of the German sausages, cheeses and breads. We thought that it would be quaint to get our supper there and celebrate in one of our rooms. Music, from the music store right next door to Sepp’s, lured us into its establishment. Tex Beneke’s famous hit Hey-ba-ba-ree-ba was playing. We couldn’t help but dance to it. It was fun.

We went home and ate Sepp’s sausages and rolls. Sepp had the best hot dogs in all of Montreal. Then Bill took me for a drive through the dazzling city of Montreal, up to Mount Royal. We visited St. Joseph’s Oratory and went inside for a prayer. What a magnificent cathedral! Afterwards we sat in his car to talk and got to know each other better. We were the only car parked in that huge circular lot. We had a beautiful view of downtown Montreal. The city glistened in its Christmas splendour.

Excerpt from My Elephant Skin by Michelle Kaiser

© 2009 Valhalla Publishing Canada