CANADA COURIER (12/15/96)

CANADA COURIER

by Christopher Guly

Winnipeg landmark closes its doors

Nick Halas probably saw the writing on the wall last spring when his wholesaler directed him to the local superstore to get the lawn product he sought for his North End Winnipeg hardware store.

A short time later, Mr. Halas was getting extension cords from Wal-Mart and weedbars from McDiarmid Lumber.

After supplying North Enders with everything from hammers to enamel pots from Poland and metal strainers for cooking pyrohy for 64 years, N. Halas & Sons - or Halas Hardware Ltd. - relinquished its landmark spot to the one-stop shopping mega-retail outlets.

The doors at the McGregor Street location, which has been home to N. Halas & Sons for half a century, closed at the end of June. "We're going to miss our customers," says Bill Halas, 67, who left Isaac Newton High School in Grade 11 to work for his father, Nick Sr., 49 years ago. "My dad told me I didn't need to go to Grade 12 because they couldn't teach me anything about the hardware business," jokes Bill.

"After 50 years, you cannot help but feel strange leaving people who came in as kids and now bring their kids to the store." Bill, Nick, 65, and another brother, Ray, 74 - who retired nine years ago - took over their father's business 35 years ago. Dad, meanwhile, opened a paint store across town.

Although they didn't create a Sears dynasty, the Halas boys were successful enough to support their wives and 11 children between them. "We're not overly rich, but we didn't suffer, that's for sure," says Bill.

Hanging up the Halas Hardware shingle, however, will leave many customers suffering at the loss.

"It's horrible," says Lesia Szwaluk, president of the Ukrainian Canadian Congress Manitoba Provincial Council. "My husband and I used to always go there for things we couldn't find anywhere else like special, hard-to-find pipes for bathroom taps."

Bill said teary-eyed clients came in mourning the Halas Hardware departure. "They're telling us, 'You're not supposed to leave us.'"

Such sentiments come with being an institution in the community. Once upon a time, N. Halas & Sons' two-story, 2,000-square-foot building featured a lot more than oddball items. For one thing, they offered service in Ukrainian.

During the 1940s and 1950s, the Halases sold toys, fishing and hunting supplies, power tools and appliances, including television sets - which they also repaired.

The emergence of retail chains in the 1960s forced the brothers to downsize - and innovate, when they began selling instant lottery tickets in the 1970s.

But Bill says changing economic times did not contribute to the family's decision to close shop. "Our legs are tired. We're not as young as we used to be," he explains. "After all these years, we have been working six days a week. It's time to take it easy."

And so, the Halas hardware dynasty was history by July. "None of our children are interested," said Bill. "They weren't brought up in the same environment."

Winnipeg pharmacist heals himself

It was early on a Thursday morning in Winnipeg and pharmacist Myron Kurjewicz was exhausted. The night before, the 43-year-old owner of a North End drug store was up late helping a fellow pharmacist deal with a severe drinking problem. On Thursday afternoon, Mr. Kurjewicz promised his colleague he would schedule an appointment with a clinical psychologist.

Offering such peer support is part of his role as chairperson of the Manitoba Pharmaceutical Association's (MPA's) Pharmacists at Risk Committee - a first for Canada when it was established in 1981.

In recognition of his involvement, the 1,000-member MPA voted Mr. Kurjewicz "Pharmacist of the Year" during its annual convention in Winnipeg on April 20.

That day, the son of Ukrainian immigrants could have done with some extra support himself. Early that morning, his father-in-law, Alexander Zahoroda, died of a massive heart attack.

"It was kind of like dejà vu for me, because when my wife [Julia] and I were married 20 years ago, my father [Paul] died that day," explained Mr. Kurjewicz over the telephone from his Selkirk Avenue-based Brothers Pharmacy, which he runs with his wife. He started the business in 1978 with his brother, Peter, who left in 1990.

Nine days after he lost his father-in-law, Mr. Kurjewicz lost one of his closest friends and pastor, the Rev. Jaropolk Radkewycz, the former rector of Ss. Vladimir and Olga Cathedral, who died in an automobile accident outside of Winnipeg.

These days, Mr. Kurjewicz - who has three children - relies on his wits and the support of others to survive stressful times. Not long ago, he relied on what he terms the "Titanic syndrome."

"No matter how bad a situation gets, you promise yourself you're not going to sink. As a result, you really end up feeling like you're carrying the whole world on your shoulders. Still, you can handle it, you say to yourself, not matter how bad it gets, because you have work to do to survive," he explained.

It got bad for Mr. Kurjewicz - so much so that he ended up turning to such prescription drugs as Tylenol 3 and 292s to ease his pain. "As a result of [the Pharmacists at Risk] committee, I had a terrific support system to help me get off the stuff," he said. Having survived his own tough time, Mr. Kurjewicz decided to do something other pharmacists might fear could indirectly hurt their own careers: fight illicit and prescription drug abuse.

He wrote information pamphlets, one titled "Know Drugs," and addressed school groups about the dangers of pharmaceutical dependence. "With some people, the effects of medication become so powerful their personal lives revolve around them," he noted. "They become so preoccupied in getting these products, they don't end up resolving some of their problems without being chemically induced."

Two years ago, the Manitoba government gave pharmacists like him a hand when it introduced the Drug Programs Information Network.

Through it, every pharmacy in the province is hooked up to a central computer at the Manitoba Health Services Commission in Winnipeg. Each time someone comes in to have a prescription filled, the person hands the pharmacist his health card bearing an electronically coded Personal Health Identification Number on which his medication history is recorded.

Still, Mr. Kurjewicz, who has worked as a licensed pharmacist since 1975, prefers the personal approach in keeping his customers drug independent.

"I may be their pharmacist, but I try to be their friend as well - not someone just behind a counter. You don't get instant respect and credibility, you have to earn it. It's important to be a human being first and a professional second."