By Emily Stonehouse
It’s a beacon of light, a symbol of times gone by. “When you picture Haliburton, the Molou sign is one of the first things to come to mind,” said Joel Finkelstein, the most recent owner of the former Molour Theatre in downtown Haliburton.
Finkelstein spent his summers in the area, roughing it at Camp Northland and cottaging with friends on Eagle Lake.
He instantly fell in love with the region. And not just the lakes and the rivers, but the people, the community, and the businesses. He has vivid memories of exploring the forests, of dining downtown, of seeing the sparkle of the Molou sign in the 1970s. “I saw many a movie there,” he laughed.
That’s why, when he had the opportunity to return to the Haliburton Highlands – this time as an adult, he wanted to give back. “I wanted to buy the Molou,” he said.
Four years ago, the building was owned by siblings Allan and Stan Consky, and their sister, Lynda Stoller. The trio grew up in Haliburton with their parents, Molly and Lou (whose names combine to form the famous Molou, of course).
When the theatre opened in the 1940s, Stan and Allan were trained on the projectors, while Lynda handled the candy counter. “I remember each week, we would get the fliers with the upcoming shows,” recalled Lynda. “It was our job to fold them up and distribute them to the lodges around town.”
“It’s different now,” recalled Stan. “There were 12 lodges on the Lake (Kashagawigamog), and they would all come in to see the movies. The theatre would bring 100 to 600 people in a night.”
Stan recalled when tickets were 36 cents for an adult, 18 cents for a child. “It used to light up the town,” he said, reminiscing on the days where the lineups to get into see a show were looped around the block.
He shared a clear memory of the Molou sign being installed. “We had to use a tow truck from Curry Motors to get it up there,” he chuckled.
And it’s stood there for decades. The iconic orange background with the neon lights and Edison bulbs flashing around it. “The Molou was what brought the community to life,” remembered Finkelstein, noting that at one point, it’s likely that Lynda handed him candy before a film viewing in the 1970s; a lifetime before they knew one another in this context.
Like all good things, the era of the movie theatre gradually petered out, with the last showing in August of 2010. “The hardest thing we ever had to do was sell that building,” said Lynda. “If we were younger, we would have kept it going,” added Stan.
This is where Joel Finkelstein comes into the picture. At the time, he was already deeply tied to the region, having opened up an orthopaedic clinic at the Minden hospital site that had been met with success for nearly 20 years. But he and his business partner, Elliot Greenberg, had been eyeing the Molou property. It wasn’t just a business, it was a cache of memories, a destination for dreamers. “I knew we had to buy it,” he said.
But he didn’t buy it just to slap his own name on the iconic space. “I wanted to buy it and bring it back to the community,” he said. The current tenants of the Molou building are Needful Things, “and they’re great tenants,” said Finkelstein. But he’s looking to add more to the space.
Currently, there are 800 square feet near the back of the building that Finkelstein is looking to rent out to a local business operator. The space could accommodate a patio, a retail shop, or a restaurant at the back of the beloved Molou space. But there’s one rule: no franchise businesses. It must be local operators. “I was approached by a franchise who wanted to change the whole building,” said Finkelstein. “They wanted to take down the Molou sign, add their own sign, I said no. It has to be for the locals.”
Upon hearing this over coffee, Lynda lit up. Reminiscing about the sign and the theatre for the newspaper article brought the group together, and what was once a business deal, the conversation organically turned personal. “We know we sold to the right person, then,” she beamed.
Lynda, Stan, and Allan all reside in Toronto these days, but call Haliburton ‘home’ for the summer months. “This will always be our home,” mused Lynda.
And while the movie theatre is no longer showing films, the space where the memories and the magic happened is still alive and well under the twinkle of the Molou sign. “The sign is just the beginning,” said Finkelstein.
Just a few short weeks ago, Finkelstein brought in local electrician Gerald Sharp to tackle the long-dormant sign. With a few new bulbs and some modern rewiring, the sign shines again, attached to a timer that flicks it on at dusk each evening.
And the community has noticed. A video of the twinkling sign was posted on Facebook, with over 500 likes and dozens of comments connecting the community to their memories. “Brings back many memories … all good! I even sold popcorn there one summer!” recalled one. “I love this so much,” says another, “I wish I had a time machine …”
It’s a beacon of light, a symbol of times gone by, while simultaneously being a promise for the future. The first thing that comes to mind when you picture Haliburton: that twinkling Molou sign.
