I REMEMBER OTTAWA
by Edward W. Devlin, a former resident of Ottawa and a longtime member of the Historical Society.
I REMEMBER SIS TOMKINS (Lisgar Collegiate, 1902-1933)
She was really Miss E. A. Tomkins, but you learned that formality after you left the Lisgar Collegiate. My father just managed to be taught by her. So did Percy Harris, the coal dealer, whose daughter Betty married my brother Bob. Miss Tomkins induced a succession of mutinous young Ottawans to learn algebra, or at least to pass exams in it. I was one of them. To do this she used an exciting mixture of wit and sarcasm and sheer terror, controlling classrooms full of smart-alecks and hellions with a glare, a word or a hiss. We dreaded being the centre of her attention. She was an Ottawa legend long before she retired. In her postretirement serenity she visited Dad in his office. How did you do it? he asked her, and got the memorable reply: "Always razzle-dazzle the other fella before the other fella razzle-dazzles you."
I REMEMBER PAUL HORSDAL (1930s-40s)
He was one of Ottawa's favourite photographers, with a studio on Sparks Street near Elgin. He was Danish-Canadian with a soft and amusing accent and a quirky sense of humour. He and my father were devoted fishing pals. When the peeping and whistling of frogs and treetoads around the lake kept them awake at night, he roared at them "Shut up, you demmed weesil-birds! Paul Horsdal is enemy of weesil-birds!"
I REMEMBER "THE SWAN" (1930s)
The Ottawa Drama League could not know that the Molnar play would become a famous movie starring the divine Grace Kelly, Alec Guinness, and Louis Jourdan, in the roles played here by Jocelyn Chapman, Lawrence Freiman and myself. Ottawa had to make do with us until the real thing came along.
I REMEMBER THE PEACE TOWER (1930s)
Percival Price, who was the first Dominion Carilloneur, wore a black beard because the Belgian carilloneurs with whom he learned his trade could only take him seriously with a beard. In the playing-chamber under the bells he sat on a curved bench and slid back and forth to work the higher bells with both fists while his feet hit wooden rods under the bench to sound the big bass ones. He had an apartment a story or two below the bell-chamber where he had friends in for parties. In a corner of the room rods connecting the clock mechanism below with the bells above clanked up and down every hour, and the bells boomed overhead.
I REMEMBER C. P. EDWARDS (1920s-30s)
He was one of Dad's best friends and he was a fascinating and amusing uncle to my brother and me. He and his wife Ethel lived in a small cottage at the north end of Cloverdale Road, where the Rockeliffe streetcars turned around. Later we learned that he was a famous and important man, a pioneer of radio communications and broadcasting in Canada. In Wales, as a young electrical engineer, he was enlisted and tralned by Marconi, when he was setting up the first transatlantic communication by radio. Later, Marconi sent him to Canada to join his Canadian company and to set up wireless transmitters. Then the Government employed him as Director of Maritime Radio. In World War I he won the OBE for designing a system for detecting enemy code messages. He represented Canada at international radio conferences, he headed the committee that allotted radio channels throughout North America, and he initiated the equipping of all large ships with radio safety-devices. In World War II he won the CMG by directing the building of 100 airports for the Commonwealth Air Training Plan. He set up the corporation that controlled all external communications, radio and telegraph in Canada. He wound up as Deputy Minister of Communications. Some uncle!
I REMEMBER SOLANGE
She and her mother came from Tours "where the purest French is spoken". They lived in a dark apartment on one of the glum little streets of Centretown. She worked for a mining company with an office on Wellington Street. There she translated technical journals and letters into English. She was not only French but very French. She was not beautiful, but in the French way she was vivacious and charming and captivating. She acted with both the French-speaking and English-speaking theatre groups. I was first enchanted by her as "La Belle de Haguenau" in a production by Le Caveau, the French group. Later, with the very Anglo-Canadian Ottawa Drama League, she played an authentically French wife of Samuel Pepys in the London play "And So To Bed". To a stolid Anglo-Saxon like myself Solange seemed to be always performing, with eyes and teeth and hands and elbows and shoulders, modulating in seconds from high drama to glittering comedy. We were devoted friends for many years, and I managed to write a play for her, which the Ottawa Drama League entered in the Dominion Drama Festival. After her marriage to the ascendant Yousuf Karsh the two of them were among my most entertaining friends. I last saw her at their home on the Rideau River shortly before her death.
I REMEMBER YOUSUF KARSH (1930s)
A shy young Armenian with a large camera stood in the wings as members of the Ottawa Drama League rehearsed a play. He was studying the effect of stage lighting on faces. He had come from war-torn Armenia by way of his uncle's photographic studio in Sherbrooke and after studying in Boston. He was courteous and diffident and intense. He opened his studio in 1935. Through the Ottawa Drama League he met the first of his distinguished sitters, Lord Duncannon, son of the Governor General, who sometimes acted with the ODL. The Prime Minister became his patron, and Karsh was launched. He and Solange were married in 1939. I remember her telling me about his return home after taking the famous portrait of Churchill, which he had prefaced by removing the cigar stump from the great man's lips. (In that portrait I can see both what Churchill felt toward Hitler and what he was feeling toward Yousuf Karsh.) "When he got home," said Solange, "he was pale green and shaking. He hoarsely confessed what he had done.'' In 1988 Louise and I called on him in his studio in the Chateau Laurier. He and his second wife, Estrellita, were just back from organizing exhibitions in several European capitals.
I REMEMBER THE OTTAWA DRAMA LEAGUE
Dorothy White - Gladys and Leslie Chance - Bill Cromarty - Madeleine Charlebois - Jocelyn Chapman - Nancy Barrow - Vals Gilmour - Solange Gauthier - Marian Osborne - Audrey Fellowes - Michael Meiklejohn - Beatrice Whitfield - William Brodie - Dorothy Cruikshank Nora Hughes - Julia MacBrien - Roger Watkins-Pitchford - Dorothy Yule... some of the names are still with me from the ODL's golden age of the 1930s. Above all there was Bill Adkins, the English-born stage- manager and set-builder, who put it all together and made it happen on the stage. And above all there was Rupert Caplan, who directed us year after year, endlessly encouraging and creative. Many of the actors were English or Scottish, transplanted to Ottawa as teachers or diplomats or civil servants. They lent some artistic verisimilitude to our productions of Drinkwater, Shaw, Pinero, Maugham, Coward, Baffle, Fry, Galsworthy, Rattigan. We native Canadians considered ourselves adaptable enough to blend with them in those plays, and at the same time American enough to bring off the plays of Kaufman, Barry, Behrman, Maxwell Anderson, Odets and Wilder.
I REMEMBER THE FREIMANS (1930s-40s-on)
For decades before it was swallowed up by The Bay Freimans Department Store stood foursquare between Rideau and George, a block or so east of Sussex. Its only rival as a major department store was Ogilvy's, a few blocks farther east on the other side of Rideau. (No nonsense about "Rideau Place" in those simple old days.) A.J. Freiman and his wife Lillian were for most of their lives among the most valued benefactors Ottawa had, particularly when refugees from Hitler's Germany needed vast amounts of organization and provisions. I remember that the Freimans were honoured by the governments of Canada and Israel. But I have personal memories of the family. A.J. and my father were -- at least in the field of clothing -- business rivals. They were also personal friends. Their son Lawrence and I acted together with the Ottawa Drama League. Lawrence's son A. J. Junior and my brother's son Michael began a lifelong friendship during summers spent at Kingsmere up in the hills. Later, much later, Louise and I discovered that A. J. Junior was living in our apartment house on Daly, and that he was managing the Robertson Galleries, a distinguished gift-shop on Laurier. I followed Lawrence's work in support of the Stratford Festival. He sent me a copy of his book of memoirs, "Don't Fall Off the Rockinghorse". We last met when Louise and I went back to Ottawa for a visit, and we called on Lawrence and Audrey in their home beside Mackay Lake. That was a matter of months before he died. A happy memory of the Freiman family and their business was their treatment of their biggest rival in the department-store business, Ogilvy's. Ogilvy's had a disastrous fire which put them out of business for months. When they rebuilt and reopened, Freiman's welcomed them back with a large box in their full-page advertisement in The Citizen.
I ALSO REMEMBER
- the snowshoe clubs, racquettes on shoulder, wearing their grey and white and red blanket coats, leaving St. Anne's church after mass and forming a parade along St. Patrick Street.
- Will Rogers coming out on the stage of our vast arena and remarking that they seemed to have taken a piece of southern Ontario and put a roof over it.
- John Philip Sousa and his massed brasses blasting our happy ears in that same arena.
- at the Russell Theatre, Anna Pavlova as the Dying Swan, Sir John Martin-Harvey as "Hamlet" (when he should have been Polonius), DeWolfe Hopper as "Chu Chin Chow", and sundry opera and Shakespeare companies.
- the ice-palace on the old Plaza, attacked by men in blanket coats carrying torches, defended by men with roman candles, and finally going up in a blaze of red flares and skyrockets.
- the handbell in the street that told you the Italian knife-grinder was coming. How he slipped his grinder off his shoulder to the ground and pumped a pedal with one foot to set the grindstone spinning. Watching the spray of sparks as he pressed your scissors and knives to the stone.
- favourite bookshops: Thorburn and Abbott on Sparks Street, A.H. Jarvis on Queen, where we bought our John Buchan, Stephen Leacock, Mazo de la Roche, A.A. Milne, Mary Webb, and that wonderful Everyman's Library.
- sore-throat lozenges called, mysteriously, Zymole Troches. - Bob Bowman, who lived down our street, whose father was the editor of The Citizen, who went to London and became the voice of Canadian hockey on the BBC.
- I Remember Ottawa taking the Belt Line streetcars in a tunnel below the Plaza, beside the Chateau, to go to Hull and Wrightville.
- coonskin coats, rumbleseats, hip flasks, the Charleston, and the flapper cartoons of John Held Junior in "Life". And all that.