Good Meal, Fair Deal

Edmonton, 1951

Carol’s feet were sore. She’d lost track of how many blocks she’d walked. Almost as bad as her aching feet was her broken heart. When she’d left the farm behind and come to the city, she’d never imagined nobody would hire her. She’d tried stores and restaurants and offices — nothing.

Wait! There, in the flower shop was a help wanted sign. Maybe her luck was about to change! But just as she reached up to pull the door handle, a face appeared in the window and stared at her. Then a hand whisked the sign away. A white face. A white hand.

Two minutes ago, the florist had been looking for someone to work in the shop. Someone . . . but not Carol. She gazed at her reflection, knowing why the sign had disappeared but not wanting to admit it. Gazing back at her was a neatly dressed 22-year-old with not a hair out of place under her sensible hat. A young woman with dark skin and big brown eyes. Eyes that were just about ready to overflow with tears.

And then another dark face appeared behind her in the window, this one adorned with a big, warm smile. “Don’t let it get you down, honey. Things’ll turn out right in the end, even if it doesn’t look that way right now.”

Carol’s day had been so full of unkind people that a friendly word was enough to make her tears spill over. “I just want to work but no one will hire me. I can type and I know shorthand and I’m really good with people, but all anyone sees is the colour of my skin.”

The older woman folded her into a hug. “I’m just so tired,” Carol wept into her shoulder.

“And hungry, too, I’ll bet,” the woman said with a grin. “Come on. My name is Hattie, and you’re coming with me. Think those feet can take you a bit farther?”

In our time, when you can find every kind of food even in small towns, and discrimination is against the law, it’s hard to imagine that there was a time, likely during your grandparents’ lives, when things were very different.

In the 1940s, it was almost impossible for Black people to get good jobs in much of Canada.

About the only work available was as a servant or cook, for women, or on the railways for men. Or, like Hattie Melton, you could start your own business.

For 25 years starting in 1944, Hattie’s Harlem Chicken Inn in Edmonton served up delicious food. Hattie (sometimes spelled Hatti) would feed anyone who was hungry, even if they couldn’t pay.

She hired many young women and men who had never been able to get another job.

Jazz musicians like Big Miller and singer Pearl Bailey ate at her restaurant, which was an important meeting place for the Black community of Edmonton.