THE MATERIAL I RECEIVED from my fellow dancers was rich in anecdotes, shared experiences, and interesting points of view. While I wove many of these stories into this narrative of the early years of the Company, it was impossible to find a suitable place for them all. Not wanting to deprive you, the reader, I have here included additional memorable (or at least notable) stories from several of the dancers’ accounts that didn’t quite fit elsewhere.
MYRNA AARON
Although as of this writing, it has been sixty-seven years since I saw Celia Franca for the first time, the memory is as vivid as if it happened yesterday. She had just completed her cross-Canada journey to see if there were dancers enough to form a potential ballet company. She was back in Toronto, working in the box office at Eaton Auditorium to support herself. On Sunday mornings, she taught a two-hour class at Boris Volkoff’s studio on Yonge Street. Those of us who had been chosen to attend were so excited that first day, and of course dying to be chosen for the new Company. Most of us were local, but Earl Kraul and Colleen Kenney came from Hamilton every week, and I expect there were others who travelled long ways to be there.
Those were great days. We worked under awful circumstances for almost no money and loved every minute. Celia often told us how spoiled we were—she after all, had performed in London while German bombs were falling. I’m grateful to have been a dancer back then. It was a very special time that dancers today with their sprung floors and company massage therapists don’t get to experience.
Edelayne Brandt and Diane Childenhaus in Offenbach in the Underworld.
Courtesy. Private collection.
VICTORIA BERTRAM
I had just graduated from the National Ballet School the spring before. Not having passed the “ideal perfect dancer’s body” assessment, Miss Oliphant deemed me a good candidate for the teacher’s training course and so I was to stay on in this capacity. How very surprised I was then, when I received a phone call from none other than Miss Celia Franca to replace one of the dancers (Cathy Carr) who had been sidelined by an injury. So there I was, bounding up that old staircase to report for my first day of rehearsal!
At the end of the four-week tour … I went back to school assuming I had only been hired for that tour. A day or so later I got a telephone call. It was Miss Franca once again, this time asking me where on earth I was! “Get back here,” she said. “We need you!”
GLORIA BONNELL
I must confess I loved dancing in Winter Night, and I loved it even more for the fact that we were not required to wear pointe shoes. It was heavenly to give those toes a rest! I don’t recall disliking any of our ballets. I think I loved them all, but perhaps memory fails me now—this was, after all, over fifty years ago!
It was about 1959, during Celia Franca’s final performance of Giselle. It was also my last performance as I, a member of the corps de ballet, was leaving the Company. The memory of tears streaming down both my and Miss Franca’s faces, is vivid all of these decades later. Along with the emotion at that time, I have always felt so blessed to have shared that amazing experience with such an icon of the Canadian ballet world.
EDELAYNE BRANDT
I was in awe of Celia Franca, both as a gifted dancer and as our leader. She demanded professionalism at all times. One slip and you would hear about it. Miami Beach comes to mind. A few of us were sent to the famous beach for a publicity photo shoot [for Swan Lake]. Being young and knowing it was snowing back in Toronto, we stayed to frolic on the sand. Miss Franca took one look at our neon sunburns and scathingly told us we “looked more like flamingos than swans!”
Being an unknown Canadian company, our audiences in small American cities could be sparse; that was when pranks would break out. One night down South, Miss Franca was dancing Swanhilda [in Coppelia] to a house of no more than thirty people. When she flung open the drape to reveal Coppelia [a life-sized doll], there sat David Haber [the company stage manager] in full doll costume with wig in place, batting long false eyelashes. Franca let out a small yelp but, being a consummate professional, held it all together. Everyone else onstage lost it, even though we knew a stern lecture would follow—and it did!
SALLY BRAYLEY
My goal was to dance with the National Ballet of Canada. So, after the New Year of 1956 I moved to Toronto to study with Betty Oliphant. At the time I arrived, I went to class every day with Betty. The students were all younger than me, but I didn’t care; I was determined to dance with the Company. During this phase of training, Celia often came and watched the class I was in. After six months of hard work and just before the start of the annual summer school, lo and behold Celia asked me to join the Company. This was my dream come true.
There were so many funny experiences during my six seasons with the National Ballet of Canada, some sad, some bad, but all experiences I carry with me to this day. These memories are the backbone of what I have done and not done throughout my career as a dancer, director, teacher, coach, administrator, fundraiser, and my overall life and career in the great world of dance. I am still friends with many of the dancers and people who were part of the National Ballet of Canada during those first ten years. I am so proud and honoured to have been part of that time when we were making Canadian dance history.
CATHY CARR
I remember after dancing four acts of Swan Lake in Montreal and meeting some friends of mine from McGill University afterwards, I allowed myself only a bran muffin and a fruit cup to make sure that I did not gain a sliver. This was an example of the perils of body image. Weight gain was front and centre at all times. To this day, I live with an eating disorder and being underweight is the operative ideal. Recently, I completed my grade eight piano exam, and my grade seven theory exam. I love yoga, tennis, walking, and opera. I still love to dance and music is very central to my life.
Sally Brayley in Coppelia. Photo: Ken Bell. Courtesy: National Ballet Archives.
Being part of the National Ballet Company was a unique experience and I will never regret my decision to become a dancer at such a young age. Notwithstanding, I missed many of the normal stages of development, some of life’s adventures went missing, and undoubtedly this left some scars. However, I will never forget the experiences gained and the opportunities I had brushing up against such talented artists.
MARCEL CHOJNACKI
One favourite ballet was Coppelia, where Celia Franca and I performed the lead roles. Celia performed Swanhilda, the village girl dressed as a doll come to life, and I performed Dr. Coppelius. This role was both interesting and complex; it involved considerable mime, interpretation, and exacting dance choreography in conjunction with the music. After performing in that role for some time, I switched roles and danced the czardas in Coppelia.
In Mexico City, one of the dancers scheduled to perform the czardas in Swan Lake became ill. I was asked if I knew the choreography and if I would be able to dance it. Indeed I did; I made it a practice to learn the repertoire of every ballet we performed. I used my knowledge of dance repertoire during my years working as a ballet master, choreographer, and dancer with Les Feux Follets, the National Dance Ensemble and Les Sortileges in Montreal throughout the 1960s and beyond.
Marcel Chojnacki, Lilian Jarvis, and Earl Kraul in Coppelia, 1958. Photo: Ken Bell.
Courtesy: National Ballet Archives.
JUDIE COLPMAN
Oldyna Dynowska was a friend from my earliest classes with Bettina Byers, a well-known teacher of the Royal Academy of Dance in Toronto. Oldyna and I attended the National Ballet Summer School at the same time, both of us hoping to audition for the new Company, although I had a feeling Oldyna had already been approached to join. At the end of the summer school, Miss Franca pulled me aside and told me that she was not inviting me to join the Company. After another year of hard work, I should audition again. I was crushed, but I knew that I had to forge ahead with my technique and try again next year. Yes, I would do just that.
Two days later, Franca’s office contacted me to pick up a pair of red boots from Oldyna and bring them back to the University of Toronto’s Varsity Stadium that night before the performance of Coppelia Act II, which she and a small group of dancers were presenting as part of a summer festival of music and dance. With no expectations, I took the boots backstage to Miss Franca’s dressing room. She thanked me for the boots and, to my complete surprise, asked me to join the new National Ballet Company she was creating. I said yes and that was that! She told me to watch for an invitation to a first party at her home where people would get together to meet the dancers and staff of the new National Ballet of Canada. What had just happened? I could hardly believe this amazing invitation to become a professional dancer!
YVES COUSINEAU
I wish to write about another student who was taking classes at the time I was studying with Elizabeth Leese. The National Ballet was performing at the National Arts Center in Ottawa before we were to leave for the World Fair in Osaka [in 1970]. A few of us were invited to have lunch at the Parliament buildings. We were introduced to Pierre Elliot Trudeau. When he introduced himself to me, he said, “But I know you, we studied in the same studio.”
I said, “But I don’t remember you being in my class.”
He said “You would not. I was in the class for stupid adults.” Dear Pierre.
We were all under Celia’s scrutiny, especially the girls. There were some members who became depressed and upset by the stress of training. Touring so long at a time, we would encounter many problems along the way. This living, travelling, and performing with so many people and for so many weeks could really get under your skin. Celia’s constant supervision and corrections immediately after the performance upset many of us. We were not all professional dancers, and many of us had much to learn, and many things at the same time. In those days, schools and academies for dance did not exist in the same way they do today. Dancers learned on the go; you either endured the corrections and prevailed, or left.
Then came Antony Tudor to choreograph Offenbach in the Underworld for the Company. I was given the role of a waiter, but most fascinating was hearing this master speak about the process whereby he invented every character to be played and danced. He spoke plainly about the details of movements and their meaning—sometimes in very graphic details. The ballet’s setting was a cabaret in the Underworld. He explained to everyone the night life of this café—its nightly intrigue and the kind of girls the can-can girls were. He was real and direct. He was the first person I had met in the dance world who gave proper directions. He was a creator, a director, a choreographer. Though I was dancing a small role, for the first time I was directed artistically. During my time studying the dramatic arts, I soon learned that there are no small roles, just small actors.
OLDYNA DYNOWSKA
Many years ago I read Theatre Street by Karsavina. I greatly admired the Russian dancer, Ulanova. She was modest in demeanour and did not have the ideal physique for a dancer, but when she danced, she created the most moving visions and feelings that went beyond the mere physical movements of the choreography. Years later, I read a poem by John Masefield called, “The Dauber” in which he described this wonderful phenomenon as “turning water into wine.” Even though Masefield had been describing the painter’s absorption in his art, that metaphor described how I saw the art of dancing.
It is possible that some see the evolution of the National Ballet Company as a continuum; however, this model does not consider or appreciate the many aspects of the sacrifices, the dedication, and the perseverance of those first dancers, and of the hardworking champions of those first years, all of whom laid a foundation for the possibility of a Canadian ballet. The correct model to my mind is a vertical construction, which shows the present Company as standing firmly on the shoulders and the sacrifices of those first dancers, and of the many unsung others who contributed to the first struggling but persevering building blocks of the National Ballet of Canada.
KATRINA EVANOVA
Once Patricia Neary and I passed our examination, achieving a “highly recommended” mark in the Cecchetti Syllabus, Celia Franca contracted us to join the National Ballet Company early in 1957. No words could express the jubilation we experienced. I wasn’t yet seventeen! It was popular to adopt a stage name if yours didn’t sound appealing. I simply extended my nickname, Katie, to “Katrina” and used the feminine version of my Bulgarian surname, “Evanova.”
After a night’s performance, being awakened at five-thirty in the morning by a desk clerk, having had less than five hours of sleep, was enough to make anyone grumpy, but I tried to maintain a friendly, cheerful manner. Hurrying to be presentable, packing, paying the hotel bill, and scarfing down a quick breakfast in time to catch the next bus was always draining. Once on board, I’d flop into my seat, pull out my corduroy neck rest, and nap. We always had our main meal after performances. By the time we returned to our room, showered, and washed a few articles, it was past midnight. Life was analogous to being in the army. We’d mount the bus, lugging a book, transistor radio, and Kodak camera.
Oldyna Dynowska. Photo: Maurice Seymour Studios.
Courtesy: Private collection.
LORNA GEDDES
Miss Franca was a taskmaster, but she had reason to be. It was necessary to be strict, necessary for us to learn an awful lot, and this was the woman who had all the theatrical knowledge that we needed. She was funny. She challenged us. And we did our very best to meet that challenge because she was also a little bit frightening. Certainly I think a little bit of fear is good; it will allow you to never give in and she wouldn’t let you. She always wanted the best out of you. But she did appreciate it. And we knew we were progressing.
The touring. One-night stands. Down to Texas and back through the South. I loved it. I loved it because I was being paid to do what I wanted to do, which was dance, and I was travelling and I was seeing the world and I was taking pictures. And there was so much to learn.
I think my first contract was forty-two dollars per week. And the first year I made eleven hundred dollars because we were only hired for seven months and then we had five months off at seventeen dollars per week unemployment insurance. I do have my income tax forms and I think the poverty level at that time for two people living together was four thousand dollars so we were below that (Tennant, The Dancers’ Story).
Janet Green (Foster), 1959. Photo: Ken Bell. Courtesy: National Ballet Archives
JANET GREEN FOSTER
Students came to the Elmhurst Ballet School in Camberly, England, from all over the world. The school offered the full British academic curriculum as well as theatrical and ballet training. Juliet and Haley Mills were acting students, and it was high excitement when their famous father, John Mills, came to the school performances. But for the large group of us who enrolled mainly for ballet, the formal “education” was not exactly academic. Classes were held around the dining room table and our “schooling” consisted of the History of Ballet, the History of Music, English Composition, Conversational French, and Current Affairs. The latter class was the liveliest, especially when the Hungarian Revolution and Suez Crisis erupted the following year. But if the “academics” offered little by way of formal education, they gave us many more hours in the day to dance.
Whenever CBC needed dancers, they turned to the National and when the Company was not touring I danced on television shows. Little did I know that the friends and contacts I was making within the CBC would lead me smoothly and quickly into television production upon leaving the ballet world. Looking back over the two years I danced with the National, it is the touring I remember most: the one-night stands, travelling by bus from one city to another, hoping there would be time for Shirley Kash to give us class onstage before the performance, wondering what the theatre and stage would be like. I carried a Kodak Pony IV camera and took every chance to explore the cities and countryside we passed through: the wild and more natural landscapes of North Ontario, the Maritimes, Florida, Texas, and the New Orleans of the times. For the first time, I was becoming aware of a much wider world. And there were many other influences, outside the ballet, pulling me steadily in a different direction.
FRANCES GREENWOOD
Touring was very taxing and wore out the body and soul. Because we were always sharing such close quarters, colds and flu were constantly passed from person to person. One year, so many members of the corps de ballet were too ill to perform that even when all the soloists were substituted we were still short one dancer. It was Swan Lake and I was the smallest dancer so I was made to dance the lead swan while Celia, subbing in, decided it would be best if she were behind me. She got through it wonderfully, but there was a lot of whispering under my breath and the audience probably thought I was talking to myself!
From left to right: Diane Ireland, Frances Greenwood, Betty Pope, Katrina Evanova,
and Cathy Carr. Courtesy: National Ballet Archives.
Just before we were to leave on my first tour in the fall of 1956, Celia called me into her office for a chat. “Frances, darling,” she began, “your name, Frances Greenbaum, is not in the programmes for the season. I don’t know if you are familiar with the British movie star, Joan Greenwood, but I thought it best to change your name to Frances Greenwood. That is your new stage name. I think you should go home and tell your parents.” Of course, my family was furious at my not being consulted or asked if I wanted my new stage name. Many years later, I read that Celia’s name was originally Celia Franks, but Dame Ninette de Valois changed it to Franca. I wonder if she was asked or if it was just done.
Many difficult life lessons were learned while touring through the United States. Our American manager had to explain to us that we were not to enter washrooms, areas of restaurants, or sit on bus seats with signs that read “for coloured persons only.”
One time we were in Houston, Texas, and were invited to the Houston Cattlemen’s Club for a very swank reception after our performance. As we arrived at the venue, Celia came up to me and whispered, “Frances, dear, don’t let anyone know that you are Jewish.” The club was restricted and did not allow people of colour or Jews. That was not the only time that life’s ugliness reared its head.
BOB ITO
One memorable event comes to mind: our invitation to the Russian Embassy in Washington, DC, to screen a documentary about the Bolshoi; our first taste of Russian caviar and vodka.
Another memory from an American tour was our first encounter with Los Angeles. While travelling to Glendale, orange orchards lined the freeway and the smell of orange blossoms was overpowering. I remember Galveston, Texas, where we took our shoes off and waded into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. And going up the east coast of Florida, we parked on Daytona Beach and all went for a swim. Unfortunately, our driver was docked for it, because the stop was not on the itinerary.
One grievance while on tour in small towns was that all of the restaurants were closed by the time we finished our performance. The receptions we would attend only offered cake and cookies, and most dancers had not had much to eat before the performance. We posted a petition and the following performances were followed with substantial meals. We also scavenged fruit and rolls and any goodies we could slip into our “dance bag.”
While I was with the Company I had the opportunity to work on television. Brian Macdonald was choreographer in the weekly variety show Tourbillion in Montreal. So many of the National Ballet dancers were able to work during the summer break. After leaving the National Ballet, I followed the opportunities that came my way. I continued to work on television with Allan Lund for the programs Mr Show Business, The Shirley Harmer Show, Hit Parade, The Robert Gould and Joan Sullivan Show, and occasionally The Wayne and Shuster Show, with Don Gilles.
Lilian Jarvis as the White Girl in Winter Night. Courtesy: National Ballet Archives.
LILIAN JARVIS
Because of my body structure, ballet technique did not really “work” for me. My preference for roles therefore leaned strongly to the lyrical and storyline ballets, where technique was not so critical. I danced many of the early ballets, like Grant Strate’s Ballad and Franca’s Le Pommier, with a sense of ease and enjoyment. These ballets were also well-suited to the male segment of our audiences, who were as yet uncomfortable seeing male dancers in tights. And to be sure, as we peeked through the curtain in those early years to get a reading on our audience before performances, a male presence was rare.
Interesting, again because of their musical precision, I loved dancing the “Machine Girl” in David Adams’ early Ballet Behind Us, with its staccato movements, and Balanchine’s meticulously choreographed Concerto Borocco and his beauty-to-dance Serenade. Another gem for me was the Spanish dance in Coppelia. With its musicality and vitality still lingering in my bones, it’s the only dance I can reproduce from memory to this day. How ephemeral is the life of a dancer!
Of course, my greatest moment came when I danced Juliet at the special matinee performance of Romeo and Juliet for the Company’s twenty-fifth anniversary celebration. The ballet came into the repertoire the year after I left to study in New York and I had dearly regretted having missed the opportunity to dance that most prized dramatic role. And so, when I had the unexpected opportunity at the age of forty-five to enact that heart-achingly beautiful role, with its lush choreography and stirring music by Prokofiev, my aspirations for a dance life were satisfied to the greatest extent that was possible.
SHIRLEY KASH
I loved character dance, which I felt was in my DNA. In those early years, immigrants from Poland, Ukraine, Russia, and Hungary would have a picnic at Pickering. We all dressed in our national costumes, sampled traditional cuisines, and performed our dances and music—an amazing cultural experience.
I had wonderful teacher training and mentorship from Betty Oliphant from twelve to sixteen years of age. At sixteen, I got into the National Ballet. Betty opened a satellite school in Willowdale and I taught there. That’s where Vanessa Harwood first took lessons. Betty founded a line of five dancers who performed at the Royal York ballroom. It was a tap line, but they also did the can-can. Betty choreographed everything and I was part of this line.
I loved teaching so much that I finally chose to leave the Company to join the faculty at the newly founded National Ballet School. My teaching gave me great joy and it is a privilege to have been part of the lives of those who went on to have great dance careers.
VALERIE LYON
One of my memories was when I watched with awe as Lois Smith injured her side but was quickly injected by a local doctor to kill the pain before she proceeded to perform anyway to everyone’s amazement and trepidation. I had the utmost respect and admiration for Lois Smith, especially as Swan Queen. My favourite ballets were the classics: Swan Lake (especially Celia’s version after Petipa), Les Sylphides, and Giselle. I loved dancing in the corps of these ballets. I remember fondly dancing in the Norman Campbell-directed Swan Lake for television. I wholeheartedly disliked modern works, especially The Remarkable Rocket, and was only forced to dance in this ballet once when someone was injured, with only a day’s notice.
In 1961, I stopped dancing of my own volition to become a Novitiate of the Ministry of the Little Flower of Jesus. I did a four-year novitiate and eventually became Prioress of the monastery. While I stopped dancing cold turkey, and missed the exercise, I found the strengths gained in dancing were eminently transferrable to my new life.
Donald Mahler. Courtesy: National Ballet Archives.
DONALD MAHLER
I fell in love with the members of the Company. Not only did they do many of the great classics, but they had four of Mr. [Antony] Tudor’s masterpieces. In addition, their training was based on the very same Cecchetti syllabus that I had been training for under Miss [Margaret] Craske [at the Metropolitan Opera House]. The next time the Company came to New York, I asked Mr. Tudor if he could arrange for me to take class with them. I duly appeared at the theater onstage. The class was taught by Betty Oliphant. At the barre, she came up behind me and said, “Can’t you keep your hips straight?” With a devilish smile I said, “No.” That should have been the end of me, but the next day during Mr. Tudor’s class at the Met, he came over to me at the barre and said, with a twinkle in his eye, “Can’t you keep your hips straight?” Some telephone conversations must have occurred!
In any case, I was invited to come to Toronto to attend that year’s summer school with a view to entering the Company in the fall. As luck would have it, the Company was engaged to appear in Washington, DC, and I received notice to come to Toronto immediately to replace a dancer who had been let go. No sooner had I arrived when that dancer was rehired. Now they had me as well and the roster was expanded by one.
I was given my first role, a mouse in The Nutcracker. My first performance was a disaster due to the darkness onstage and the masks we all had to wear. I couldn’t recognize anybody or see where I was going and so I missed my first entrance, ran over to the other side of the stage, having to cross over under the stage, only to find that my fellow mice had made the second entrance without me. And so I never actually made it on the stage and my debut was as a non-existent mouse!
We all used to don various items of clothing to keep warm during class. Hockey socks were all the rage. We wore sweaters and sometimes even overcoats.
PAULINE MCCULLAGH
My debut with the Company was delayed because of a broken foot. “What happened to you?” asked a perturbed Betty Oliphant when I hobbled into rehearsal. “I fell off the streetcar,” was the embarrassed answer. After several months in a cast and then physiotherapy in a swimming pool, I returned to classes and rehearsals.
Shirley Kash patiently taught us our roles, we darned our pointe shoes, and Celia Franca smoked endlessly. In trains we did ballet barre, holding the securing railings in the corridor. At the outdoor Carter Barron Amphitheatre in Washington, we were accompanied on stage once by a huge moth and once by a small, frantic dog.
Betty Pope, Lilian Jarvis, Angela Leigh, and Lois Smith wearing hockey stockings, c. 1957. Courtesy: Lois Smith Electronic Archives at Dance Collection Danse.
On my own initiative, I understudied Dark Elegies. Then a dancer was injured and I replaced her at the last minute. But the best part was the great David Adams thanking me afterwards. I loved dancing Brian Macdonald’s fun choreography on television. Just before she left the Company, a pregnant dancer asked to take my place in Offenbach. She wanted one last kick at the can-can.
I did not get to really know Miss Franca until fifty years afterwards, shortly before her death, when I used to visit her in the retirement residence. By then, I had also read her biography. One day, her ballet-distorted feet peeking out from the end of her bed, free of the pressure of sheets, she surprised me by asking, “Are you happy?”
Pauline McCullagh, 1956. Courtesy: Private collection.
CECILY PAIGE
I cannot remember a time when I did not want to dance, even though classes were not available due to the War. At the time, though, I had no idea what ballet meant.
I had an offer from Franca to join her in Canada. This was a wonderful experience with supportive dancers. Touring was exhausting, but I was able to dance night-in and night-out!
My favourite ballet is and always will be Giselle. I first danced it in the corps at Sadler’s Wells. In Canada, I truly enjoyed Le Carnival, with Bob Ito, a very gallant partner. Winter Night—poor Mary, whose hands must have been falling off playing Rach II on a regular basis. Offenbach in the Underworld—what fun!
Lilian was the most delightful Swanhilda. I have seen many over the years, but her sweetness and delightful performance in Coppelia was hard to match. I also admired Jackie Ivings’ work and Bev Banfield’s acting, especially in Nutcracker.
MARILYN ROLLO
These first months of classes and rehearsals were very difficult, not only for the dancers, but also for Celia Franca who had to train and work with all of us and try to turn us into professional ballet dancers. Miss Franca was a taskmaster. Personally, I was terrified of her, and that feeling stayed with me for many years.
There are lots of other memories, becoming friends with so many people that I still have contact with today. This whole experience is something one could never simply forget. You are a close-knit bunch, together for so many hours per day.
Just recalling all these memories has brought back many more.
PENELOPE ANNE WINTER
Celia Franca wore a thick black braid that swung down to her derrière. By the end of class, we would see a new side of Miss Franca. She would morph into Sleeping Beauty’s witch, Carabosse, her black, unruly hair covering most of her face and petite torso.
The Company was in its sixth year when I joined in 1956. Thus began the emotional and physical tsunami of being in a fledging ballet company just getting its sea legs while I was still just a youngster myself. We depended on kind donations from strangers and attempted to educate ourselves at every opportunity.
A fifty-year memorial coin is still proudly displayed on my mementos shelf. Nearby is an autographed glossy of Celia kicking up her oh-so-gnarled toes in Offenbach in the Underworld, which was autographed and gifted to me by Celia for being the “best cygnet” in a school performance [of Swan Lake] the year I joined the National Ballet. In Hamilton, preparing for Giselle, I recall Celia begging us to keep our weight well over our feet in an attempt to stay grounded. In the second act, I was conscious of her bidding, and was horrified to hear a terrible crash. Saddened to think of the poor dancer who had fallen I realized that it was my own chin on the floor. By the end of that tour, having achieved more noteworthy roles, I silently renamed myself Penelope Fall!
Jocelyn Terell and Jacqueline Ivings in Concerto Barocco, 1961. Photo: Ken Bell.
Courtesy: National Ballet Archives
LEILA ZORINA
Here are a few memories from those long-ago tours. The first tour in Mexico City when so many dancers were ill, Miss Franca replaced the girl in front of me in the corps in Lac 2. I prompted her through the performance. Another time, I had to replace Penny Winter in The Remarkable Rocket without a rehearsal; She was in the wings prompting me.
In Texas one year, after a performance they opened up the Officers’ Club for us as the restaurants were closed. A gentleman asked me to dance and I did. When I came back to the table I was told by the other dancers that if I danced with him again we would all be thrown out. I had not known that a white person was not supposed to dance with a black gentleman.
Other memories are of dancing on stages in very, very cold hockey arenas. And the day that Patty and I jumped out of bed thinking that we were late for the bus. When we arrived in the lobby there was no one there. It was the middle of the night.
Norman Campbell and Celia Franca on the set of Swan Lake for CBC.
Courtesy: York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives and Special Collections,
Robert Lawson fonds, ASC04651.