Lunedi Lunacy

There was an Old Derry down Derry,
who love to see little folk merry;
So he made them a book,
and with laughter they shook
at the fun of that Derry down Derry.

I'm not at all sure if children still read Edward Lear (I'm sure some must) but I always found his word play enchanting.  He conjured up such pictures of Jumblies, floating Owls and Pussycats, and various old men and ladies of sundry places whose strange habits made for wonderful limericks.

I thought I'd start off my week by revisiting a few of my favourites.  However since I didn't have one of his many books at hand I thumbed clicked through the videos on YouTube and came up with these two very different but fun animations of classic Lear stories.

Well I guess that little tag end answered my question about children still reading Lear.

There is a wonderful website devoted to Lear and his various writings, drawings and creations.  As well they have some fun examples of early limerick books for slightly before Lear's time.

November 3 -  1793: French playwright, journalist and feminist Olympe de Gouges is guillotined.

Much Ado About Something

A planned trip to Stratford in August and the donation of a few items - designs, programmes and postcards - to the archives of the Shakespeare Festival triggered memories of my first visit there.  It has been 35 years since my last visit in 1978 but I believe the magic will still be there.

Robert Farifield's building for the Stratford Festival echoed its beginnings in the tent.  But he gave the Festival a performance space undisturbed by the whistles of freight trains or the cries of the umpire from the local baseball diamond that often fought for the audience's attention in the early days.

Back in 1958 my friend Bruce and I boarded a train at Toronto’s Parkdale Station headed for Stratford and its Shakespeare Festival   I was 12 at the time and Bruce was 14 - strange when I think that our parents had no second thoughts about us going on a trip like that alone. It was the first of what were to become regular visits over the next 20 years to the Festival town that Tom Patterson, Tyrone Guthrie and Alec Guinness put on the theatrical map five years earlier. The Festival had forsaken its original “big top” for a permanent home the year before; at the time a revolutionary design,  Robert Fairfield's circular structure built into the hillside surrounded the revolutionary stage that Tanya Moiseiwitsch had designed to invoke, but not slavishly copy, the theatre of Shakespeare’s time.

Tanya Moiseiwitsch designed this revolutionary thrust stage based on discussions she and Tyrone Guthrie
had about the ideal platform for performing Shakespeare.  Director Michael Langham felt the stage
was too "feminine" for the tragedies and histories and asked Moiseiwitsch and Brian Jackson to give it
a "sex change" in 1962. I recall being shocked by what I saw on entering the theatre for The Taming
of the Shrew that year.   I got use to it but still have a fondness for this first stage.

As well as well-known performers – Guinness, James Mason, Frederick Volk, Siobann McKenna, Jason Robarts Jr and Irene Worth – the Festival was developing its home-grown stars chief amongst them William Hutt, Douglas Campbell, Frances Hyland, Amelia Hall, John Horton, Douglas Rain, Kate Reid and a young and vibrant Christopher Plummer.  Plummer had first appeared on the thrust stage in 1956 as a charismatic Henry V in a ground breaking production by Michael Langham that bridged and celebrated Canada's two solitudes and featured Gratien Gelinas with members of Quebec based Theatre de Nouvelle Monde as the French King and his court. Plummer was to follow that with Hamlet, Andrew Aguecheek, Leonates, Mercutio, Philip the Bastard, Cyrano, Antony and in 1958 Benedict in Much Ado About Nothing.

A young, and very handsome, Christopher Plummer as Benedict, 1958.

It was that production that we boarded the train to see on a sunny July afternoon. In those days the Toronto Telegram sponsored a “special” Tuesday train to Stratford. For the price you got the 2 hours train ride, a bus upon arrival to take you to a local church – Parkdale United, as I recall – where the ladies of the parish had prepared a hot dinner. I don’t remember what exactly they served as a main course but I do remember desert was homemade cherry pie with fresh whipped cream. The Festival theatre was a short walk away and the buses waited to take you back to the station at the end of the play. The late night train from Chicago passed through at a convenient time and arrival at Parkdale meant getting home well after midnight. Fortunately there was no school the next day and Bruce’s mother was willing to pick us up. Several year’s later the late train no longer operated and the Telegram was no-longer published.  You could go up by train but the only way of getting back after the play was the bus – and I do recall a number of nights standing all the way from Stratford back to Toronto.

The wedding scene from that 1958 production of Much Ado About Nothing.  This Festival
postcard photo was taken from approximately where I was sitting that evening. I have
a collection of these postcards that will be going into the Stratford archives this summer.

Michael Langham at a rehearsal - 1988.

Sara Krulwich - The New York Times

The Much Ado was the second of the Shakespeare comedies that Langham directed at the Festival and as time passed he proved to be a master of the genre.  That is not in anyway to discredit his handling of the tragedies, histories or the problem plays.  His Romeo and Juliet with the oddly cast but somehow very right Julie Harris and Bruno Gerussi as the star-crossed lovers, Kate Reid, Tony Van Bridge and Plummer started as a light-hearted youthful affair filled with high-spirits and romance that spiraled into deep, aching and bewildering tragedy.  And both his Trolius and Cressida and Timon of Athens (with a score by Duke Ellington) proved less problematic then many imagined them to be.  His 1966 Bretchtian Henry V though not much loved at the time caught the pessimistic spirit of the period as accurately as his production ten years earlier had mirrored the optimism of its time.  The 1964 King Lear that he directed with John Colicos was a searing indictment of man's inhumanity to man - he often said that his time as a prisoner of war in Germany gave him new insight into the bleakness of that darkest of tragedies.

But he didn't restrict his productions on the stage that he knew better than anyone else to Shakespeare.  Langham also directed a bawdy but stylish The Country Wife, a funny but ultimately unsettling almost frightening The Government Inspector and first with Plummer than Colicos a Cyrano de Bergerac that was the ultimate romance-adventure story.  It has always been said that his crowning achievement was the 1961 Love's Labour Lost (a play he was to direct three more times at Stratford including his final production in 2008) - sadly I choose to see Henry VIII that year; at the time a historical pageant with elaborate Tudor costumes seemed more appealing then the heady word-play of a young Shakespeare dazzled by his love of the language.  Ah the callowness - and foolishness - of youth.

One critic referred to Eileen Herlie and Christopher Plummer's Beatrice and Benedict as being like
Brandy and Benedictine.   They seem to have brought out the best in each other.

But back to the events of that evening in 1958:  the fun of a train ride (I love trains), a delicious home-cooked meal and the thrill of that trumpet fanfare echoing from the terrace of the Festival theatre on a summer's night.  But that was nothing compared to the pageant that followed:  Vincent Massey, our Governor General at the time, was there with his party.  As the trumpets sounded a new fanfare he made his entrance resplendent in his red and gold uniform, his daughter-in-law Lilias on his arm and surrounded by the vice-regal party in dress-uniform with their summer-frocked ladies.  We all stood as God Save the Queen began and at the end of the anthem cheered - we did that sort of thing in Canada in those days.  But even that was to pale in my 12 year old's mind with what followed.

Desmond Heeley's citizenry of Messina had a look to them that was
more English country house than Sicilian palazzo. But it gave the
production an elegance and style that mirrored Langham's direction
and the company that he was building.

Suddenly that gleaming wooden structure was filled with ladies and uniformed gentlemen more elegant even than those in the audience.  Langham and Desmond Heeley had chosen to set the play in the 1870 and though they may have been looking to the Risorgimento, it was more English country house than Sicilian palazzo.  But given the players it worked:  Tony Van Bridge was a pompous, deadly serious, and more comic for all that,  Dogberry with Alan Nunn, his perfect foil, as an Uriah Heepish Verges; Conrad Bain and Mervyn Blake where slightly stuffy but loving father and uncle; William Hutt, an elegant and handsome Don Pedro - his lone estate at play's end was all the more puzzling for that; Bruno Gerrusi as a dark, threatening Don John; Diana Maddox and John Horton all organza and braid looking the perfect young lovers.  But at the centre of it all were Eileen Herlie and Plummer as Beatrice and Benedick.  A star may have danced at her birth but a whole constellation celebrated the sparring match, strange-woeing and eventual wedding between these two.  As one critic remarked they were a heady mixture of "benedictine and brandy" - each complimenting and bringing out the best in the other.

It was all very magical and I recall Bruce - who was a stage-struck as I - talking about it all the way home - I'm sure much to the annoyance of those around us who were trying to doze on the trip back. I had been going to the theatre since I was five years old but I believe I can honestly say that it was that performance of Much Ado About Nothing that sealed my love-affair with the magic of the stage.  And each year for the next 20 I would make the trip to Stratford, sometimes once but often five or six times, and I waited for that familiar fanfare and the lights to come up on that marvelous platform when once again that magic would be reborn.

May 7 -1920: The Art Gallery of Ontario, in Toronto, opens the first exhibition by the Group of Seven.

Friday's Flowers

I grew up surrounded by lilacs; my father and brother had poured a concrete patio beside the house; it was under the shade of a huge weeping willow and protected on two sides by stands of lilacs. Well over 8 feet high even when weighed down with great clusters of purple flowers, on warm summer nights they filled the night air with an incredible scent - slightly reminiscent of the perfume my Grandmother favoured.

They also seemed to attract a great number of mosquitoes who felt that my person was the best dining venue in Alderwood. When I would come in - on those nights I was allowed to stay out with the family enjoying the night air - I would be covered in mosquito bites which then called for an application of a bit of lather from a bar of Lifeboy soap. In those days Lifeboy was a carbolic soap with a mild anti-bacterial power and, as far as I was concerned great healing powers - it did seem to take the sting out of those pesky bites. The fragrance of lilac mingled with the smell of carbolic soap is the Proustian Madeline of my childhood.

Fast forward to our first house in Hunt Club. It was a garden home with a patch of yard bounded by three townhouse walls and a cedar fence. It was basically hard clay, scrub grass and a small - almost Lilliputian - stone patio. But in the corner stood a lovely Persian lilac it was festooned with fragrant white blossoms. It was almost 12 feet high and by the time we moved out seven years later it was two stories high. But it almost wouldn't have had that chance to grow if one person - who shall remain nameless - had followed through on the plan to cut it down! Fortunately clearer minds - mine said he modestly - prevailed and it became a integral part of my small garden.  Hostas, lily of the valley and Solomon seals shared its shade with a cedar deck.  The rest of the garden was dotted with fox gloves, bergamot, daisies, campanella and a lovely hardy President Kekkonen rose bush surrounded a small waterfall illuminated by a stone Japanese lantern. The background was a cedar fence covered with Virginia creeper which glowed bright red in the waning days of fall. When I think back on those days in Hunt Club I hear the sounds of the waterfall, the glow of the lantern and the scent of lilac. Of all the gardens I have had I think it was that one that I created from clay and scrub that gave me the most pleasure and contentment.

All this to introduce today's flower - the lilac. Perhaps its just me being sentimental but I think Grandeville captured the very essence of that most gentle - but hardy - of flowers perfectly.

Someone was asking why I show multiple versions of the same print?  These were engravings that were coloured by hand and so from copy to copy there is a variation - sometimes in colouring, sometimes in shading, often in clarity because of differences in technique.  I find that often details missed in one can be found an another.  And also give the age of the books these were taken from  and the care given to them by the owners - some may be faded or discoloured which gives them, I think at least, an added dimension.



25 May - 1895: Playwright, poet, and novelist Oscar Wilde is convicted of "committing acts of gross indecency with other male persons" and sentenced to serve two years in prison.

Welcome to Canada

Queen Victoria (Charles Léandre,
Le Rire, June 12, 1897)

In the middle of the last century when I was a wee Willy - oh grow up the lot of you!!!! - today was known as Victoria Day and we celebrated the birthday of a Queen who had been dead for over 50 years. But as I wrote previously it was a time to assert our "Britishness" -  to fly our Union Jacks and show that we were loyal Monarchists through and through.  In 1953 - after the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth - it became the official day for observing the Queen's Birthday (though her birthday is actually April 21), up until then the Monarch's birthday had been a bit of a movable feast.   Now 50 years later it seems to be a day that has lost any Royal significance and has become better known as the "Let's Open the Cottage" weekend.

Back in 1951 as well as Victoria Day we had another occasion to show how true, blue and loyal we were and show it we did.  The young Princess Elizabeth and her husband came to Canada for a visit in October of that year.  For 33 days she toured Canada and included in that trip was a 48-km ride through the streets and boroughs of the Queen's City - Toronto.  As I recall we were given the day off school and little union jacks, red ensigns and buttons that proclaimed our welcome to the Princess and her Prince were distributed.

A few days ago while going through a drawer I came across two of those small buttons - long forgotten souvenirs of a childhood memory.   In all probability my mother had kept them and when I was cleaning out her apartment I found them and as now so then memories were revived and I put them away as a memento of an era that even in 1996 had been long past.  An era when like the young Princess we looked forward to the last half of the 20th century with optimisms and high expectations.

This image is much larger than the buttons we were given in 1951
- the actual button is about 1 1/2 inches across - the 25 year old Princess would have
had to have remarkable eyesight to see this Welcome on my lapel.
Ah well when you are 5 years old its the thought that counts.

Of course I don't remember the exact date or really the details but because it was October we must have dressed warmly for the trek up to the Queen Elizabeth Highway.  A 10 minute walk from our hose the QEW was the major highway (4 lanes! can you believe it?); it had been named after the Princess's  mother and dedicated on the Royal Visit in 1939.  I do remember that my mother and father took Teresa - our next door neighbour and my best friend - and I up to join the crowd that lined the road - our whole neighbourhood was there.  We were all waiting to greet the Princess - flags at the ready, buttons proudly displayed and hearts primed to show our future monarch how much we loved her and her Prince.  The motorcade moved passed us - we waved and cheered and behind the glass a small figure acknowledged us with a smile and a wave.   It was a fleeting moment but I knew then as I am as sure 51 years later that she waved and smiled right at me!

Some Facts and Figures from that 1951 Royal Visit

During her 33 days in Canada Princess Elizabeth:

• Shook hands at the rate of 30,00 times per week.
• Heard the national anthem played 150 times.
• Met 53 mayors.
• Inspected 24 guards of honour.
• Accepted official bouquets from 23 little girls.
• Signed 21 golden books.
• And survived it all to become Queen and reign for over 60 years. That is one incredibly strong woman!

(Source: Pierre Berton, The Royal Family, 1954)

21 May - 1502: The island of Saint Helena is discovered by the Portuguese explorer João da Nova.

Viva La Befana! La Befana!

Tonight, possibly for the last time as I'm not sure if she makes trips outside Italy, La Befana will be flying over our rooftops looking for good little boys and girls. The chances of her stopping by here are rather slim unless it to drop of a load of coal.

I've written about her and the stories and traditions surrounding her on two previous occasions. Its a tradition which I can only hope will continue and not be undermined by the whole Babo Natale commercialization that seems to be taking over Christmas.

An early celebration of La Befana recorded in an 18th century print.

There are several versions of her story and the details, as with any good folk tale, vary from region to region. I've recently read a rather touching addition to the first version I recounted back in 2008. You may recall that in that story she was an old woman who was so busy house cleaning that she didn't have time to join the Three Kings on their journey. When she realized her mistake she gathered up a bundle of sweets, oranges, cookies and a few lumps of coal and with her broom in hand - she did have this thing about sweeping - set out looking for the Christ Child on her own.

In this most recent version as time passed she left the Holy Land and came to Italy. Here she continued her search and went from town to town looking for the Christ Child in the presepe set up in homes and churches. Sadly all she ever found was a wax or painted wooden Bambino surrounded by rigid unmoving figures. Finally she reached Roma and on entering "the great church there" approached the crèche - surely of all places she would find the Christ Child there! But once again she was disappointed for this time the manager was empty.

Exhausted from her search she fell asleep only to be woken by gentle laughter. The figures around the manager had come to life and one of the kings - perhaps Melchior - was laughing, not in derision, but with a kindly laugh. Joseph, his flowered staff in hand, indicated the empty manager and spoke to her. "Dear Befana, " he said "you want to find the Bambino as he was on that night in Bethlehem when angels' voices filled the sky with their song, but much time has passed since then. The Christ Child is not found in one child but in all children; He dwells within each child. Your place is not here searching for a child long gone but amongst all children living and you must continue finding His presence in them."

Again I remember my friend Marco telling me that when he was a child tonight - January 5th - was one of most exciting nights of the year in his home. Let's hope that as time passes the custom continues and his little nieces and in time their children still have the magical tradition of a little old lady who is searching for the Child that dwells in them. Vive la Bifana! Viva!

05 gennaio - San Paolo l'Eremita

Santa Claus Comes to Town - IV

Eaton's Department Store held its first Santa Claus Parade in 1905 in Toronto. The Parade was so successful that in 1909 the company decided to stage a similar parade in Winnipeg.
I was one of those kids who thought that giant caterpillar was a monster - I hated creepy, crawly things. I was quite content on year's when it didn't make an appearance.


The small hand-pulled tableau wagons were a good way to recycle paper-mâché figures from previous large floats. Some of them were animated by gear works attached to the wheels.


In 1965 when Eaton's abandoned the Winnipeg Parade because of rising cost and declining profits it was taken over first by the Winnipeg Firefighters and then as a combined effort by various civic groups. This year's parade celebrated 101 continuous years of welcoming Santa to Winnipeg.

16 decembre - Sant'Albina

Santa Claus Comes to Town - 1952

Last year I thumbed through the first colouring book that the Eaton company put out in 1951 for their annual Santa Claus Parade. The Parade was a big event in Toronto, Montreal and Winnipeg. It meant that Christmas had officially begun - I seem to recall it being on the last weekend of November and Christmas decorations didn't appear until then - anywhere. Of course there is a possibility that I may be romanticism everything with the "things were better back then" brush old folks like me tend to paint things with.

And looking at the calender of Saints I noticed today was Saint Nicholas so what could be more appropriate than starting a look through the following year's parade in the Eaton's collection at the wonderful Archives of Ontario.

The 1951 colouring book had been a runaway success for the store but there had been a few complaints that the drawings were too detailed for younger children to colour. The 1952 and subsequent editions had simplified drawings which allowed for bigger swatches of colour but remained faithful to the fantasy of the floats we saw on the parade route.



Looking at that Drummer following the majorette reminded me that the Black Watch Band always officially led the parade off.


The average float was around 40 feet long but no float could be over 15 feet high because of the overhead electrical and streetcar wires. Of course to us kids they were gigantic and the people riding on them - mostly Eaton's employees - were magical and that Princess! Why she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen!

And over the next few days we'll follow the parade as it wends its 10 kilometre route from Christie Pits to Eaton's Flagship store on Queen St.


06 decembre - San Nicola di Bari

Mercoledi Musciale

It seems every time I look at a news report another star from my misspent youth has passed away. When I say "star" I mean "star" and not what lamely passes for a "star" today - I am still trying to figure out who half these people are on "Dancing with the Stars"?

I'm talking about performers whose names went above the title, whose movies or plays or concerts you went to see because they were in it. Performers that you willing forked over your hard earned - making a bed can be onerous work for some - dime at the movies to see because you knew the minute they appeared you were going to be treated to the best.

Norman Wisdom was one of those "stars". His Pinewood films were what in Hollywood would have been labelled "B" movies and were meant to fill the bill in those days when for your 10 cents you got a travelogue, the news of the day, a cartoon, a western or thriller and a comedy plus the Trooping of the Colours with the National Anthem to end the afternoon's programme. His films were predictable but they were sweet, funny and had the little guy coming out on top. What more could you ask?

Norman always wore the same outfit - cap, slightly too small suit, rumbled shirt and tie - and ultimately the same big smile. He bumbled, stumbled and crumbled his way into the hearts of some lovely English rose and drove the same gang of upper crust snobs to distraction time and time again. And at some point he showed that he had a wonderful voice and a way with a song; as he did in Trouble in Store, his first film in 1953, singing what was to become his theme song: Don't Laugh At Me.



Despite his heartfelt plea we did laugh at Norman. His agility and brand of slapstick certainly appealed to our juvenile sense of humour at Saturday matinées. Sure the routines were as old a Plautus and maybe even older but Norman knew how to sell them and make them seem fresh. But I remember that my father loved his movies to - was it the little guy winning that made them so popular with a generation that had just come out of a war? Better not to over analysis but just sit back and enjoy.



Many thanks Norman, I laughed at you but you were nobody's fool.


Postscript:
Given how much Albania has figured in our lives the past three years - and believe me though I haven't written about it, it has - I was surprised to see that Norman Wisdom was one of the best loved stars in that previous isolated country. His passing is being treated as a national loss and tributes have come from all levels there.. Funny old world isn't it?

06 ottobre - San Bruno di Colonia

The Highwayman - A Memory Piece

I've often thought that memory is much like one of those elaborate Chinese medicine cabinets with a hundred drawers with brass handles. Some of the drawers are opened often while others only occasionally. And then there are drawers that were opened many years ago and never touched again. One of those last drawers popped open for me tonight - though considering how long ago it was that I last opened it the wonder is that it didn't creak and resist.

Walking home from dinner at Stella Maris, our local trattoria - nothing fancy just good home cooked Sardo food and always a table available for the Canadese - I noticed a misty ring around the moon and for some reason a poem from grade school sprung to mind. I was carried back to a basement classroom at Franklin Horner Public School and Miss Vardi teaching us the words, rhythm and cadence of Alfred Noyes' most famous work: The Highwayman.

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle--
His rapier hilt a-twinkle--
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter--
Bess, the landlord's daughter--
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

For the rest of this exciting poem, and believe me it is exciting, just click here.

I searched for the drawing that I recalled from our text book but nothing showed up or at least not as I remembered it. But I thought this rather dark and brooding rendering captured the spirit of the poem.

Having just reread it I can now understand why we were encourage - nay made - to learn it as both a memory and a literature exercise. It is a fine piece of action and descriptive writing. Now I can see its usefulness as a language tool - I only wish I had remember that when I was teaching English to my Polish Generals in Warsaw. The vocabulary is challenging enough - how else would I have ever learned what an ostler was; not that I ever recall using the term in general, or come to think of it even specific, conversation. But I think it is the use of action verbs and the descriptive language that make it such a great piece for teaching English. And aside from that it is, to my uneducated mind at least, still a damned good read.

I can almost forgive Noyes for his other well-known poem The Barrel Organ which includes the lines:

There's a barrel organ carolling across a golden street
In the City as the sun sinks low;
Though the music's only Verdi there's a world to make it sweet

Only Verdi! Shame on you Alfred, shame on you.

27 agosto - Santa Monica

Santa Claus is Coming to Town - VI

A band blaring out "Santa Claus is coming to town" always announced his arrival. One can only think that the poor band members were ready to run screaming into the streets after playing the same tune for two hours.

Earlier Santa's arrived in a variety of conveyances - horse, train, aeroplane and one year in a giant silver fish (!!!!) but by the 50s it was the tradition sleigh drawn by reindeer. And you'll notice that Rudolph is not amongst the lot - he was the mascot of the rival Simpson's store across the street!

And up he headed to Toyland. Where you could ride on Punkinhead's train, play in a fish pond and sit on Santa's lap for a few precious minutes as you whispered your heart's desire into his ear.

20 decembre - San Domenico di Silos

Santa Claus is Coming to Town - V

Sometimes the connection with Santa, Christmas or Fairy Tales was a trifle vague but as long as it was colourful it didn't really matter.
Of course many of the floats were recycled with a chance of colour, an alteration of structure. This year's Animal Fair could be next year's Circus Float - but only the most precocious of children - who are you smirking at? - would have noticed.
Santa was always preceded by a float to remind us - if the blowing snow and below zero temperatures weren't enough as you sat on the curbside - that he came from the North Pole. I recall Teresa Michaelski and I having a heated discussion as to whither the Ice Queen's palace should be coloured blue or pink. What color was ice in your world?

19 decembre - San Dario di Nicea

Santa Claus is Coming to Town - IV

A few more floats, marchers and bands before the man of the hour appears!


The parade route in the 1950s was about 10 kilometres through the centre of Toronto from Christie Street down to Yonge and Queen St where a special staircase led Santa right into Eaton's Toyland.

That first colouring book was very detailed in design and looking at it now it would have been very difficult for some kids to "stay between the lines". Following editions were less accurate depictions of the floats but easier to colour.



18 decembre - San Malachia O'Morgair

Santa Claus is Coming to Town - III

And the parade continues. Most of the marchers in the parade were Eaton's store employees and their families.

I always wanted to be in the parade but I have a feeling the thought of being at the Christie St Transit Barns at 0430 parade morning was the main reason my parent's dissuaded me of the idea.

To a five year old it was a mystery how they could walk on their hands for so long! But then clowns could do anything.

Okay the green duck may have been a flight of my imagination but the cow? No I'm pretty sure cows were purple back then!

17 decembre - San Giovanni de Matha

Santa Claus is Coming to Town - II

There was a brief while in the 30s-40s where more commercial characters like Felix the Cat appeared but by the 1950s the parade was made up of characters from fairy tales, nursery rhymes and childrens books.Clowns were a feature of all the parades - my own favorite were the upside down clowns. The big heads, more in the Mardi Gras tradition, frightened me for some reason.
The tableau wagons were a hold over from the old style Circus parade - and figures could be moved from small wagons to bigger theme wagons in another year's parade.
It hardly mattered that next year Cinderella's coach, minus the crown, would become the property of Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater and his wife. It was all magical.

16 decembre - Sant'Albina