Vintage Kitchener bowling alley bids adieu with fond memories, hugs

“Please ... do not bounce the balls!” reads a vintage sign hovering over the lanes on the upper floor, an ongoing issue, one assumes, for six and a half decades.

The carpet is faded, the floor scuffed, the walls painted a dull shade of gold and grey.

Even the snack bar prices seem held over from another era: grilled cheese — $2.75, hamburgers — $4, fries — $3.25, popcorn — $2.25, juice boxes — 75 cents, coffee & tea — large — $1.

“There was a time when mom stayed at home and looked after the kids and cleaned the house,” recalls Jim Witmer, the 79-year-old patriarch, and chief storyteller, who was hired as a pinsetter mechanic straight out of high school.

That was 1961, two years after the Towne was built by Lyle Hallman, who sold it to Forwell Sand & Gravel, whose proprietors ran things until 1965 before handing it over to Bob Totzke, who handed it over to Witmer and Jim Huehn in 1978, until Witmer’s son, Jamie, replaced Huehn in 1998, with grandson Brett signing on a decade later.

“We were busy out there,” says Jim, pointing to the now deserted alleys as three generations of Witmers gather for an interview in the adjoining cafeteria.

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• Dec 31, 1969
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• Dec 31, 1969
• Comments

“Mom and the kids would come, so they built two nurseries, one on each floor. These walls were lined with playpens. We had eight babysitters, four on each floor.

“Mom would come in at 9 in the morning, drop her kids off, bowl three games for two hours, come pick up the kids, and go home.

“Morning and afternoon, this place was busy.”

Not so much in recent years.

As more women entered the workforce in the ’70s, a downward spiral began, exacerbated by competing entertainment options, the rise of digital culture and the popularity of organized sports, all of which siphoned off lucrative market segments.

“There’s been a steady decline because there’s so much more for kids to do,” says Jamie, 58.

“Hockey, ringette, dance, lacrosse — bowling was competing against all of those.”

The local landmark opened its doors the same year Mattel unveiled the original Barbie, NASA announced the “Mercury 7” astronauts and Bobby Darin sang “Mack the Knife,” but it’s clear the trend line on standalone five-pin bowling alleys is moving in one direction only.

“We were hoping the youth would come in and we could build that attendance number back up again,” says Jamie of changing demographics that have made bowling old-school entertainment.

“But we found the majority of bowlers today are of the senior age. It’s very tough to get the youth anymore.”

This, ironically, had nothing to do with the demise of the 24-lane, two-storey Towne, which still has a reliable roster of leagues that turn up to bowl with reassuring regularity, and enough older customers to keep finances in the black.

And it’s not, after all, as if bowling alleys are in danger of becoming obsolete.

Victoria Bowling Lanes, New Hamburg Lanes and AMF Frederick Lanes all still operate regionally, with modernized offshoots at all-purpose entertainment centres like Bingemans and the ibowl Family Fun Center in Cambridge.

What finally did Towne Bowl in, in the end, was the same economic forces that uprooted drive-in theatres and other legacy entertainment venues set up in sprawling cities when land was cheap: soaring real estate values.

“They approached us — the property is valuable,” confirms Jamie.

“Between the three of us, we all had an idea of what we wanted in the future. My son just got married last year. They want to start a family.”

“And you know, it’s not the easiest job in the world running a bowling centre,” adds Jim, who admits he’s ready to retire.

Seven days a week, including weekends and holidays, they would be there, often at the expense of their own families, overseeing recreation for others, 12 to 14 hours a day, day in, day out.

“I was on call 24 hours a day,” recalls Jim of his early years as a pin mechanic.

“That was all part of your day. You didn’t get paid extra, but luckily at that time there were no cellphones around where they could find you.”

It wasn’t a glamorous job, in a working-class sport oft described as “the poor man’s country club.”

But as they prepare to vacate the well-worn premises that became their second home, there’s no mistaking their devotion, or the appreciation they feel for longtime customers.

“This is where I spent all my youth, growing up and bowling, and then working today,” says Jamie, hired at 13 as a gofer to refill vending machines, clean bathrooms and dump garbage.

“It’s very emotional. You can’t go anywhere in the city without running into somebody that’s been here. You get very close. People become more and more like family.”

Underlying this, and bolstering their spirits, is the familial bond they shared, working side by side.

“A lot of people thought that it was a dumb idea,” says grandson Brett of signing on to the family business. “But I think it’s been perfect.

“We all have the same mindset of how this place runs. We all know what each other is thinking. A well-oiled machine is the cliché, but ... “

“We kind of feed off of each other,” says his dad, Jamie, completing his sentence. “We know each other’s thoughts.”

“We really don’t have to communicate,” interjects Grandpa Jim.

“I know what he needs next and what we’re all doing. It’s like one mind and three people working.”

“We’ve all learned from each other,” adds Brett.

“Dad learned from Grandpa. I learned from Dad and Grandpa. Between the three of us, it’s almost seamless.”

When longtime customers returned for the official closing last Sunday, the goodwill was palpable.

“I had more hugs than I’ve had in 10 years,” marvels Jim. “All the people coming back, who just dropped in — people we haven’t seen for years, who read about it and wanted to be here.

“We’ve met a lot of great people over all these years,” agrees Jamie. “It was quite a day.”