The T. Eaton Co. seemed, when I was a very young and impressionable country bumpkin visiting Winnipeg with my parents, an entity of magnificent size and impervious to entropy. It, like so many apparently permanent fixtures of Canadian life, has all but vanished from the landscape over the past 50 years.
This Eaton's warehouse, located just east of Main Street around Logan Avenue, was already showing signs of fatigue 20 years after my first encounter of Timothy Eaton, the magnificent bronze man.
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