Simon’s Cameras
For nearly a century, Simon’s Cameras anchored the corner of St. Antoine and Rue Clark in Montreal’s Old Port. A multi-generational family business, it was passed down from father to son to grandson and solidified into a veritable point of reference for cameras and photography equipment in the city. From Leica film cameras to the curious Kodak Trimlite Instamatics to handheld camcorders and digital cameras, Simon’s Cameras guided Montrealers in the quickly changing world of photography as it expanded into daily life. The longtime business sold a wide variety of photography equipment, rented and repaired cameras and gear, accepted trade-ins, and even purchased secondhand equipment. Though the store specialized in high-end cameras, it was a hub for professionals and hobbyists alike, a one-stop shop for Montrealers interested in photography.
Simon’s Cameras officially opened in 1930, but the store had already been part of the community for ten years as a general store owned Simon Mendelson- the grandfather of the business’s last owner, Simmy Mendelson. “It was like a pawn shop,” according to Simmy, “they had clothing, and they even bought and sold gold.” In fact, according to its business cards, Simon’s General Store bought and sold “everything of value.” For a time, the store even served as a typewriter exchange, buying, selling, and repairing all makes of typewriters.
Business cards marking the change from Simon’s General Stores, to Simon’s Typewriter Exchange, to Simon’s Camera Exchange
Simon Mendelson, who founded the general store, was a Romanian immigrant who first made a living as a peddler, traveling up the Lac St-Jean to sell his goods. Soon, he and his brothers opened their own businesses— one along nearby Boul. St-Laurent, and Simon’s on Craig Street (now called St. Antoine). At the time, Craig Street was a bustling commercial artery animated by its proximity to Montreal’s port. When sailors would head ashore to stock up on supplies, Mendelson’s general store was the perfect stop for all their needs. Simon Mendelson’s son, Hy, began working in the family business at just twelve years old. After working several years with his father, Hy decided to change the store’s concept to specialize in cameras and photography equipment, and Simon’s Cameras officially opened in 1930. In 1973, Simmy Mendelson continued the family tradition when he joined his father to work at Simon’s Cameras after completing a degree in commerce. He would go on to work at Simon’s Cameras for 44 years, advising and connecting with photography fans of all ages who regularly returned to the store. He recounts, “People would come in and say: I remember coming here with my father when I was a kid, or my grandfather.” Through the ownership of three generations of Mendelsons, the shop became a thread running through the neighbourhood’s memories, standing the test of time.
Although no family members other than the three Mendelson men worked in the family business, Simmy’s children, nieces, and nephews often participated in creating fun TV ads, usually for the local WPTZ-NBC station. “The first commercial I did was with my nephew, over 30 years ago,” remembers Simmy. His own children got involved as well. In one 1993 TV spot advertising Kodak film at Simon’s Cameras, his two children appear in 1930s clothing to highlight the store’s longevity. “And now they’re already in their 40s,” Simmy chuckles fondly.
A screengrab from a 1993 ad featuring Simmy’s children
By the late 1990s, Simon’s Cameras was in expansion mode: Simmy opened a branch in Laval, followed by another in Brossard, running all three stores and spreading the Mendelson expertise off-island. “We made a lot of contacts and friends,” recounts Simmy, “we had a lot of famous people in. Donald Sutherland used to come in regularly.” Several movies, which were often meant to take place in New York City, were also filmed in and around the store. Simon’s Cameras fit the vintage look. For example, the shop’s old-fashioned charm featured in Robert Zemeckis’ movie The Walk. “It’s very old architecture,” explains Simmy. “Nothing was ever changed since I worked there.” Both inside and outside, the store was an enduring piece of history. “We had a lot of old stuff,” Simmy remembers, “My father would buy equipment from people, take trade-ins, and never sell them… he would just put it away.” A post on the business’s Instagram page even compares the Old Port location to a photography museum, where “some of the old 35mm film cameras that brought photography to where we know it today are still available for sale.” As the decades passed, many of the items displayed on Simon’s shelves became collector’s items; when the store closed, Simmy sent several of these rare objects for auction, marking the end of almost a century of slowly collecting evolving technology.
La Presse newspaper ads for Cameras Simon (clockwise): 1950, 1977, 1986, 1992, and 1997
Simon’s Cameras’ numerous newspaper ads offer a similar look back at the transformation of photography since the store’s opening. An advertisement from 1950 promotes Simon’s Cameras (then called Simon’s Camera Exchange) as an official distributor of Leica cameras, lenses, and accessories, guaranteeing “absolutely fresh stock.” A 1977 ad shows the rising popularity of pocket cameras and simple amateur photography, promoting the new Kodak Trimlite Instamatic. By the 1980s, the focus shifts to trendy camcorders, and Simon’s even offers two dates for in-store demonstrations of its latest model. In a 1992 spot, the store promotes an upgraded Polaroid as a perfect Christmas gift, while a 1997 ad marks the transition to digital with a brand new compact digital camera. Simon’s advertisements, often compiled by Simmy, provide a look back at Montreal’s material culture: what was new, what was trending, and what customers looked for in their equipment.
Enseigne lumineuse installée pour l’Expo 67, vers la fin des années 60
Simon’s Cameras’ sign also evolved through the years, adapting to Montreal’s visual and political landscape. The business’s first sign as a camera store featured bold neon letters typical of an era when neon lights illuminated Montreal’s streets— but the neon tubing was expensive to maintain, and the sign was soon simplified. Although the large neon no longer decorated the store’s façade, Simmy’s family kept one memorable element: a neon arrow pointing to the store with “Simons” written underneath, jutting out at a right angle to catch the eye of passersby on the sidewalk. Today, each of Simmy’s sons has one side of the arrow to commemorate the family business’s history. The sign’s modern revamp was installed just in time to give Simon’s a fresh look for Expo 67, when visitors from all over the world would descend upon Montreal’s downtown core. Designed and produced by Montreal’s Mayman Signs, this new sign was backlit rather than using neon and featured bright red letters on a white background. The sign soon transformed with Montreal’s landscape once again: in 1976, Craig Street was renamed to St. Antonie Street in a push to give more of Montreal’s streets French names. Soon, changing the sign became a necessity under the new Charte de la langue française, and around 1980, the business officially became Cameras Simon. A new sign soon appeared—closely modeled on the 1967 version but updated with the shop’s new name—and it stayed above the doorway until the very end. For the regulars, however, the name remained “Simon’s Cameras” despite the official change. “It was always Simon’s for all the old customers. I would say even for 90% of Francophones that came in, it was always Simon’s,” recalls Simmy.
On July 28, 2017, Simmy Mendelson opened the doors of Simon’s Cameras one last time, marking the beginning of a well-deserved retirement. For nearly a century, three generations of Mendelsons led Montrealers through the evolving world of photography, keeping history alive, and holding out as repairers and traders in an era characterized by rampant consumerism. Although this landmark is no longer in operation, it lives on in the memories and photo albums of the countless Montrealers who passed through its doors.
Writing and research by Marie Bernard-Brind’Amour