The iconic Shore Club has served up a few lobster suppers it its day - as well as sultry Saturday nights on the dance floor.
Billed as the Last Great Dance Hall in Nova Scotia, the Shore Club is a blast of nostalgia that reverberates with the rhythms of big band and rock, reggae and swing. It's a tale of hot summer nights and hot summer dancing-and if you dig deep, it's a tale of lobster.
The story begins in 1936 when Guy Harnish polished a large copper pot to cater a lobster supper on the land he owned on Hubbards Beach. The spoils of an American warship defeated in the War of 1812, that pot now resides in the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic, in Halifax, but as long as it could hold water, it cooked 400 lobsters at a time and helped launch the iconic Nova Scotia lobster supper.
Lobster-lovers flocked to Hubbards rain or shine, but fewer flocked in the rain, so in May 1946, Guy's son, Roy Harnish, hired a crew of boat builders from Mahone Bay to build him a hall. That August, the Shore Club held its first dance.
"They were still polishing the floors as the first customers arrived," recalls Rhys Harnish. Rhys is Roy's son, and the third generation of Harnishs to run the lobster suppers. In those early days, Rhys and his family lived above the dance hall. On Saturday nights he would peak over the rafters to watch nattily dressed dancers swaying to the big band rhythms of performers like Don Warner, Chit Cunningham, the Williams Sisters and Les Single.
"When the regular band stopped playing at midnight, Irvin Street came in with his accordion," recalls Rhys. "He kept the party going that much longer."
The big band era and the Shore Club's dress code disappeared at the same time-when Rhys's father discovered a Moncton rock group called the Gemtones. The Gemtones began playing the Shore Club in the mid 60s, paving the way for local rockers like Matt Minglewood and Sam Moon. "You walk in the door and it's a time warp," Moon says now, "but a good one." He'll be there again this July, playing for the offspring of people he played for in the 60s and 70s, and some of their "youthful" parents as well.
The time warp begins on the ground floor, where women work the lobster suppers-rushing to place steaming platters and homemade desserts on tables that were war surplus in 1946. There's even a hint of déjà vu to the salad bar, with its retro concoctions made from macaroni-and its famous coleslaw. It's a carb-counter's worst nightmare but it's also tasty, and strangely comforting.
The hall itself is a vintage mix of innocence and dirty dancing. Even the "new room" is 50 years old. Roy Harnish added it to make space for a bar after the Shore Club got a liquor licence-before that patrons brought their own drinks wrapped in brown paper bags.
During the week, the stage is an ideal place for children to clown around after dinner, but on Saturday night it's reserved for the band-just as it has been every Saturday night in the summer since 1946.
"We've only missed two nights," Rhys says. "Once one of the musicians died and once there was a hurricane."
For most of these years, there was very little staff turnover. Gilbert MacLean and his twin brother Douglas worked at the Shore Club for 40 years, Gilbert as a cook and Douglas a bartender. Sadie Dorey was the head cook more than 30 years. She still lives in Hubbards, and recently celebrated her 100th birthday.
When Rita Westhaver retired in 1989, she had spent almost 30 years helping with lobster parties. "It was a lot of laughs," she recalls. "Those twins caused some commotion. Dinner guests couldn't figure out how Gilbert could be cooking lobster one second and be behind the bar the next. They didn't know it was Douglas, and nobody bothered to set them straight."
One day Colonel Sanders arrived for dinner. Westhaver still laughs when she remembers the colonel asking Gilbert how he made the lobster taste so good. Gilbert replied, "Do you give the recipe out for your chicken?"
Her laughter softens as she describes a night in the 70s. "There was a crowd that had come out to hear rock 'n' roll," Westhaver says. "When Rita MacNeil turned up at the door and started to sing, I had visions of everyone walking out."
But, that's not what happened. "Not a soul left," says Westhaver. "She had them in a trance."
These days Rita Westhaver goes to the Shore Club as a customer, passing the whimsical wooden figures that sculptor John Porter carved from the remnants of a dying pine hedge in the summer of 1999. There's Elvis the Eel, Terry Fox, the Lobster Chef and several others, including a male figure clad only in a bathing suit.
"A neighbour used to put a snowsuit on him in the winter," laughs Rhys. His contribution to the dance hall's decor is a flock of seagulls that hangs from the ceiling.
"They had them as decorations for the Brier Tankard curling championships held in Halifax in 1995," says Rhys. "I was a volunteer and when it was over, I took in a 40-ounce bottle of rum and asked how many seagulls it would buy."
If you visit the Shore Club on a summer's Saturday eve, you'll find the answer to that question-and to the dance hall's success. It's somewhere between the rugged Atlantic Ocean dancing on Hubbards Beach, and the sweet summer rhythms blowin' in the wind.