The Village Squire, 1981-06, Page 6B&b
Bed and breakfast
by Dean Robinson
Louise Ellis [left], supervisor of accommodation for the Stratford Festival, chats
with Alma Wittig, a veteran B & b hostess. [Photo by Robinson]
In all likelihood the minister or his son will return for their
socks. And another man will come back and pick up his satin
pillow case.
But until they do. these and other things remain a part of Alma
Wittig's lost and found collection. and they sit safely and
undisturbed in a corner of her dining room.
Mrs. Wittig is as much a part of the Stratford Festival story as
the Guthries. the Hutts. the Campbells. the Rains. the Reids and
the Bedfords. because for as long as they have been bringing
people to the city. she has been giving them a place to sleep.
This is the 29th straight year she has been taking Festival
guests into her comfortable Water Street home. which is no more
than a good five -iron golf shot from the main theatre building.
In 1962 she began having guests sign a register and since then
they have filled four books. Using two twin -bed rooms. Mrs.
Wittig and her husband Herb. now retired, have bunked down
thousands of out-of-town visitors. They've come from Hopkins-
ville. Ky., Hollywood, FI.. Boston. Providence. Reno. Burnaby.
Cleveland, Tonawanda, Moose Jaw. Grand Rapids. Rochester.
St. Petersburg, England and Germany.
Many of them have come more than once. Dr. Raymond Walsh
from Beloit, Wi., has been visiting Stratford since The Festival
started. In each of those years. except one. he has stayed with
Mrs. Wittig. "He's such a nice man." she says. "He's a
university teacher. a bachelor, but he's retired now. He stays six
days each year and sees all the plays."
To accommodate their guests. the Wittigs move downstairs
each summer. "i used to stay up until the last ones were in."
says Mrs. Wittig, "and then 1'd turn out the hall light and lock
the front door. But 1 can't do that anymore, so three or four years
ago i started giving them all a key.Now I leave a note stuck in the
hall mirror. with all their names on it. When they conic ►n tncy •
stroke off their own name and the last one in locks up."
On occasion, guests have forgotten their keys and sheepishly
have wakened their hosts, or other overnighters. by ringing the
doorbell or knocking. Last year two girls walked over to Ontario
Street and used the telephone in a Chinese restaurant.
But most of the time the inconveniences are small. says Mrs.
Wittig. With rare exception the guests treat her home as if it
were their own. They turn off lights and make their own beds.
And the smokers have dwindled to a small minority.
There's a touch of sadness in the voice as Alma Wittig talks of
some day having to forego her June -through -October pastime
because of health reasons. "i think v c'd be disappointed if they
didn't come." she says. "We miss them when it's over each
year. That's when 1 get into books and start reading."
The Festival props are barely packed away when Mrs. Wittig
starts to receive notes and Christmas cards from her many
summer friends. They stir memories that get her excited about
next year. And of course there are those left -behind items which
are a constant reminder. and possibly some insurance. that her
visitors will return. Not many of the articles are lost forever.
"One lady forgot her glasses one year." says Mrs. Wittig.
"and i noticed them when 1 was cleaning. 1 know you can't get
along without your glasses. 1 had her address so 1 mailed them to
her. She sent me $10. which she didn't have to do. It certainly
more than paid for the postage."
According to Louise Ellis. Mrs. Wittig is among the 25 or 30
city residents who have been taking in guests continually since
Tom Patterson's dream unfolded in 1953. As supervisor of
PG. 4 VILLAGE SQUIRE/JUNE 1981