Where Almac’s Used to Be

Rhode Islanders love their state with a specificity that’s hard to explain to outsiders. We don’t just remember what used to be somewhere; we remember what was there before that, too. My dad, Burt Homonoff, born and raised in Providence, is living proof. “The city has grown and changed a lot over the years, but it’s always been able to mesh history and newness into the fabric of Rhode Island’s capital.” What started as the two of us filming walking tours to preserve family stories turned into something much bigger when it became clear that people really love hearing (and talking) about this wonderful, quirky place.

Hey dad, what did Providence feel like when you were a kid?

Providence was familiar. The landscape, the characters, the experiences… You could go into a store like Gladding’s, Peerless, or Shepard’s and buy something and put it on your account. You didn’t even have to pay for it right then and there. At Alba-Runci Barbershop, a little kid would walk in the door and go right to the toy horse in the window. Whether it was Joe or Gus or Freddy, whoever cut your hair, it was an event.

What’s a spot we’ve filmed that surprised you the most?

I was surprised by Thayer Street. It’s had so many versions over the years, and it’s evolved so much, even since you were a kid and we used to go to Shades Plus or Oop! Who would have ever thought that Clarke Flower Shop would become Sneaker Junkies? I mean, you could stand on the corner, close your eyes, and bring yourself back to standing in line for ice cream at  Baskin-Robbins. It was a huge part of my childhood.

Was there a restaurant or shop everyone frequented that you wish still existed?

That’s an easy one. Without question, The Old Canteen on Atwells Avenue. What an experience, and it started when you called for a table. You’d arrive, have your car parked, walk in the front door and up the steps, and the garlic hit you right in the face. What a welcoming smell! Antipasto, Scallops a la Canteen, Veal Steak a la Mike or a la Frank. It was like Federal Hill’s version of Cheers where everyone knew your name.

What made Providence feel like a small town, even though it’s a city?

Everything involved people. You knew Dan by name at Dan’s (before it was Nicks on Broadway), and he knew you’d want a hot coffee and a toasted English muffin before you even sat down. You knew that Al Zacks at Lad & Lassie shoe store on Hope Street was ready to measure you for a new pair of Buster Browns or Converse sneakers before you jumped on the bunny seat to try on shoes. Those face-to-face experiences were so rich and enjoyable.

What would you tell someone who just moved here and thinks Providence has always looked this way?

On the contrary, the way Providence looks today is simply an evolution that began generations ago, across the city, in virtually every neighborhood. The history, the stories, the buildings, the sense of community. Providence’s richness today is merely the 2026 version of what I lived 50-plus years ago, as did so many others before me. I will always be a huge fan. Around every corner is something or someone that makes Providence shine.