June 5th, 2011
On a bright summer day in 1996, Kate McDonnell was wandering through an alley in the eastern Plateau when she spotted the remnants of a hand-painted tobacco ad on the wall of an old triplex.
Fifteen years later, Kate ventured down the same alley and, sure enough, the ad was still there, a bit more faded than before but otherwise intact. Unfortunately, the bottom of the ad is now blocked by the tall wood fence of a terrace built on an adjacent garage.
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September 3rd, 2009
Pigeons, a ghost ad and an old tavern sign in an alley between Mansfield and Metcalfe
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May 17th, 2009
This is what makes ghost ads in Montreal more interesting than in most places: more than just a window into the past, they reveal the city’s linguistic geography, past and present. Here we have two examples of early-twentieth-century tobacco ads revealed by recent building demolitions. One, on east-end Masson Street in Rosemont, is in French. The other, on west-end Sherbrooke Street in NDG, is in English. It’s a pretty straightforward illustration of Montreal’s linguistic divisions, which exist to this day — you’re far more likely to hear English spoken in western NDG than French, and the opposite holds true in Rosemont.
Of course, there’s more than just linguistic history that can be gleaned from these old ads. Turret Cigarettes were produced by Imperial Tobacco in St. Henri, about four or five kilometres from the ad in NDG, and they were marketed as the poker-player’s cigarettes of choice. Enough boxes of Turret made you eligible to redeem a deck of playing cards from Imperial Tobacco’s warehouse in the present-day Gay Village — hence the seemingly cryptic slogan, “Save the Poker Hands.”
Old Chum, meanwhile, was a brand of pipe tobacco, also produced by Imperial, that was popular with the tobacco charities run by La Presse and The Gazette. The tobacco charities raised money to provide tobacco to Canadian soldiers fighting in the first world war. After troops complained of being given inferior tobacco, The Gazette commissioned Imperial to produce packages of Old Chum specifically for the troops. Smoking became a patriotic activity promoted by both the French and English press.
Top photo by xbourque; bottom photo by Guillaume St-Jean
May 26th, 2008
Last week, someone named BK McCabe sent me an email about an old tobacco ad that had been revealed when a fire-damaged building was torn down on Sherbrooke Street West in NDG. Not too long after, another NDGer, Grant Martin, emailed me about the same thing.
“Interestingly, one of the first results you get by googling ‘Turret Cigarettes’ is Mordecai Richler talking about smoking them when he was in high school. Mid-1940s I guess. Makes you wonder how many more of these there are, preserved from the elements but completely hidden by brick,” he wrote. “I don’t know what their plans are for this lot, or how long this will remain visible.”
There are hundreds of old painted advertisements, known as ghost ads, still visible on exposed brick walls throughout the city. Each one is a window into the commercial life of historical Montreal, giving you a chance, as you walk through the city, to see the evolution of marketing campaigns and advertising styles over the decades, not to mention product fashions — when was the last time you saw a billboard for shoe polish, sewing machines or Worcestershire sauce? In this bilingual city, ghost ads also capture a bit of socio-linguistic geography, with mostly English ads in the west end of the city and mostly French ads in the east.
The longer they are exposed to air and light, the more quickly these ads disappear. Some, protected from the elements by the shade of a neighbouring building, look much the same as when they were first painted. Others have decayed rapidly. It’s a bit ironic that the best way to preserve these ads is to actually cover them up. Frequently, when a building is demolished, an old painted ad is revealed. Eventually, they will be covered up once again. Ghosts, after all, never appear for long.
Photo credit goes to BK McCabe (top) and Grant Martin (bottom)
April 13th, 2008
Just off Stone Nullah Lane, in an old and quiet part of Wan Chai above the Queen’s Road, I came across this old advertisement on the side of an apartment building. Duk hau wai cheung tong yue, it reads — “Special Stomach Pills.”
November 27th, 2007
Two generations of advertisements in downtown Boston
November 3rd, 2007
Place Jacques Cartier
Bienville and Berri, Plateau Mont-Royal
Ste. Catherine and Stanley
October 5th, 2007
In a city with as many layers of history as Montreal, the demolition of a building usually entails the relevation of something else, like a ghost ad. I’ve written before about these old painted advertisements faded by time and the elements; they can be found in cities and towns right across North America and Europe, where the practice of painting advertisements on building sides was long ago usurped by billboards and other media. No matter how many I find in Montreal, though, there are always more lurking in tight corners, dark alleyways and, of course, behind brick walls.
Not too long ago I was walking down St. Denis Street when I noticed that the old building that housed L’Barouf had been completely demolished. (It caught fire in July and was badly damanged.) Behind the construction hoardings that separated its rubble from the street, I spotted the remnants of an old wall sign, mostly obscured by soot and debris. It’s pretty much illegible but a nice discovery nonetheless, just like the much more intact Lea & Perrins ad that was uncovered by another demolition on the Main. The owner of L’Barouf has vowed to rebuild as soon as possible, which means it won’t be long before this ad is hidden once again.
The old Coca-Cola ad on Ontario Street in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve, near the corner of Valois, was never obscured by a building. In fact, judging by its use of Helvetica and the slogan “Coke, le vrai de vrai,” I would guess it was painted as recently as the early 1970s. (“Le vrai de vrai” is probably a translation of Coke’s 1969 slogan “It’s the real thing.”) Until recently, the ad loomed over a autobody shop, but the garage has been demolished and will soon be replaced by the Cours Valois, a three-storey apartment building. Like so many other painted wall advertisements in Montreal, this ghostly Coke ad will soon be entombed behind a brick wall.
In the end, though, that might actually be a good thing: there’s no better way to preserve a ghost ad than to protect it from sunlight, the rain and fresh air. If and when, decades from now, the Cours Valois is demolished, Montrealers will once again have another window into the past.
August 27th, 2007
Ghost sign behind East Hastings near Gore
Posters behind Pender near Seymour
Graffiti behind West Hastings near Richards
October 31st, 2006
It took me by surprise one morning, several months ago, looming four stories above the corner of Park and Bernard. An old advertisement, painted on the brick wall of an apartment building, had seemingly appeared overnight. The faint outline of words – a company name and an advertising slogan – were there, albeit barely legible. I had never noticed the ad before; it was if the right amount of moisture and light had convinced it to reappear, at least for a few hours. It was, in a word, ghostly.
It’s no surprise, then, that these painted ads, faded by age and sunlight, are known around the world as “ghost ads” and “ghost signs.” They are the ephemeral remnants of a form of advertising that was once ubiquitous. Hundreds of ghost ads lurk on building tops, alley walls and brick façades around Montreal, yet, somewhat surprisingly, few Montrealers seem to notice them. Ghost ads are intriguing, eccentric and disappearing – catch then while you can.
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