in the eagerness to adulate

Floaters: Canadiens wingers Réjean Houle (waving) and Phil Roberto (autographing) parade Montreal on May 19, 1971. (Image: Archives de la Ville de Montréal, VM94-Ed041-069)

As the Stanley Cup goes parading through Pittsburgh this morning, let’s cast back to another championship march, Montreal’s, in May of 1971. Canadiens beat the Black Hawks 3-2 on May 18 in Chicago (Henri Richard scored the decisive goal) to take the Finals four games to three. Next day, back home, the team toured the Cup through downtown crowds numbering an estimated 500,000. Montreal Gazette reporters Hubert Bauch and Bill Mann took the view, too; some of their sightings, extracted and arranged, included:

Swarms of young boys on bicycles joined the parade, and somewhere between St. Matthew and Guy a large, black, vintage hearse mysteriously made itself part of the group for a few blocks.

Everyone in town was there, or so it appeared.

Two longhairs passed a joint back and forth near Guy Street, while not far away a sign a sporting goods store window urged all to “Get high on sports, not drugs.”

And of course there were the kids. The big ones and the little ones. They nipped under police rope barriers to mob the players. They climbed over the cars holding out their autograph books, and occasionally they almost tore the arms off their heroes in the eagerness to adulate.

At St. Catherine and Metcalfe, one fellow, in full goaltender regalia despite the oppressive heat, had pasted adhesive tape all over his face to resemble Dryden’s mask. How and with what degree of pain he later removed it was not known.

One girl in hot pants proudly displayed Henri Richard’s picture on her blouse which proclaimed “Henry the Conqueror” in French.

“Hourrai Pour Henri!” became a commonplace banner as the parade wended its way further east on St. Catherine.

Stanley Cup T-shirts ($2.50) were moving very well yesterday, as were Canadiens balloons (three for 50 cents), and they were ubiquitous along the parade route as the roiling crowd pressed towards Les Canadiens’ cars.

Four barmaids in identical peasant costumes stood together outside their empty restaurant and squealed with glee at the sight of the celebrated Mr. Dryden. And from high above the street came flurry after flurry of confetti.

Later, on the ceremonial veranda over champagne and bon mots, Mayor Drapeau seized the time to draw attention to the grandeur of it all.

“As you all know,” he said, “we’re used to doing things the hard way. And I would like to say that les Canadiens have accomplished their feat in the Montreal style.”

Jean Béliveau summed it all up in his own way when he simply said: “How nice it is.”