IF EVER WE NEEDED PROOF that the founding of our National Ballet of Canada was a collective miracle, it is in hearing afresh (and often anew) the voices of courage, individuality and vibrancy of those dancers from the fearless fifties. So pure, so brave, so resonant. I find it enthralling and deeply moving to have their personal stories re-awakened, and to collect a panoply of memories that are seminal to us all.
First, I must salute Jocelyn Terell for this massive undertaking—truly her passion project. Too many of our early heroes have left us, and her conviction that this compelling memoir must be recorded offers us a most important sequence of Canadian dance history. As a ballet child of the late 1950s (one of Betty Oliphant’s Sherbourne Street students), I remember how Miss O. would hold Jocey up to us as an example of balletic lyricism and beauty—coming from Miss O. that was really something! Betty’s own signature gift for all who were trained by her—and her part in the formation of our Canadian balletic style—was the fluidity of her port-de-bras and that very special quality of lyricism. She would enjoin us to watch Jocey closely and we—albeit from that top balcony of the Royal Alexandra Theatre—remember her poignant performances in Winter Night, Lilac Garden and Death and the Maiden vividly. She was a beautiful dancer!
Our formative training years with Miss O. were characterized by her demands for technique, quality, and classicism; our skills were then honed and refined by Miss Franca with her consummate artistry, musicality, and professionalism.
At summer school, from the elevated platform of the majestically dilapidated St. Lawrence Hall, we avidly watched the Company class and rehearsals, conducted with precision and panache by the charismatic Celia. And even if we, at age nine, could not then fathom the extent of the sacrifices these bold young dancers were making, we did indeed absorb and retain every second of an experience we recognized as precious. They were blazing trails for us—the next generation—for the privilege of a full education, a fully-formed ballet company structure, and a developing public appreciation of ballet as a profession in Canada.
What is critical to remember about Early Days, Early Dancers, is that far from being a sentimental collection of memories (one of Celia’s most caustic corrections delivered with an expression of disgust was “too sentimental, darling”), it traces the imprint of an era. What resounds from these personal pages is the indelible impact that Celia Franca and Betty Oliphant made on Canadian ballet. They trained us in communal effort, group striving, and shared pride. Such standards, discipline, taste, and style—these are the legacies that are emblematic of the National Ballet of Canada to this day.
More than any other art form, I think classical ballet and dance has evolved on an historical continuum, a connected chain of common experience, from generation to generation that has lived for centuries. From that very first lesson to the very last day of one’s dancing life—whether ten or fifty years later—it always begins at the barre. This unique continuity physically links each dancer to the next, every single day in first position, placing hands on the barre: handing it on—passing it on—persevering.
As Celia said to me, in the closing line of The Dancers’ Story, celebrating the National Ballet’s fiftieth anniversary, broadcast on CBC in 2001: “The Dancers’ Story? Why, without the Dancers, of course we couldn’t do anything. I don’t quite know how to thank all those people”
—Veronica Tennant, C.C., Filmmaker, Writer, Principal Dancer, The National Ballet of Canada, 1964 to 1989.