GLIMPSES of how Canada worked: a writer's memoir.

9. Of plazas and performers

"They will go south on Yonge to the Royal York Hotel, arriving there at 1:40, then north on York and west along King.

"Departure from Sunnyside will be at 1:55 p.m., after which they will follow the Queen st. extension and The Queensway to Highway 27.

"All who are interested in obtaining tickets or further information should contact their Senior Citizens organizations or The Telegram at EM. 8-6011, local 361."

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What I now see as the most noteworthy thing about the Music Fair shows is that Mario Bernardi was the company's Music and Choral Director in 1957 and '58. I don't know if any other name in the large, slick free program books went on to a significant career, but in the 20th Century his name matters a lot. At age 25 he was the accompanist for the choir of the all-girl St. Joseph's College School I attended in Toronto. (It was on the south side of Wellesley, where the matched set of 1960s Ontario Government buildings now stands.) All the pupils in the school's Grades IX to XIII made up the choir.

Godfrey Ridout, a few years older than Bernardi, was choirmaster.

Both men matter in Canadian music history today, but in 1954 they were merely students of the Royal Conservatory of Toronto earning their livings where and as they could in a field of entertainment -- classical music -- which made few performers rich. I wouldn't be surprised if being on stage once a week in front of 500 "ladies" (that was Mr. Ridout's term for us -- to our faces -- as in "Please, ladies!...LADIES! Now PLEASE! Will you just...?") was the least likeable job either of the men ever had.

The nuns at St. Joe's expected Mr. Ridout to make the choir produce four-part a capella harmony, and he did! What's more, we sang beautifully. That was because he was a perfectionist. Eventually, he was recognized as an exceptionally good composer. Mario Bernardi is acknowledged to have been Canada's best orchestra conductor of the 20th century, but he had to spend years flying back and forth across the country to be noticed.

I still imagine the two of them on the large wooden stage of St. Joe's auditorium, with its long dark drapes at the sides and back. Only years later did I learn what Mr. Bernardi's body language meant. He peeled back just enough of the canvas cover on a black Heintzman concert grand to expose the keyboard. Came time to leave he could re-cover it fast. Whenever he wasn't accompanying us he slouched on the creaky round wind-up stool with his left side to the keyboard, legs crossed and the upper leg's restless foot poking rhythmically toward the nearest exit. His body was communicating 'I wanna run through that door!'

Mr. Ridout didn't enjoy us either. He jigged and bounced about the stage, sometimes unable to contain the frustration in his voice as he strove mightily to make us produce musical sounds. For Bernardi, the weekly ordeals ended in May, but Ridout had to survive a grand finale: annual graduation ceremonies in the 1000-seat Eaton Auditorium (now the Carlu). A photograph in my 1953-4 yearbook shows about 450 girls of the four lower years, in regulation black long-sleeved uniforms with white celluloid collars and cuffs, crammed together in six tiers behind the Class of 1954:  58 Grade XIIIs in three rows. 

The lower grades were in their places before Quentin McLean, one of Toronto's most versatile, hence best known, musicians made the Casavant theatre organ thunder with Sir Edward Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 (Land of Hope and Glory ). While he played we glided down the centre aisle in white gowns that had bouffant skirts, and with bouquets of red roses in our arms. Dad paid $50 to cover my participation; Mom made the gown. 

In a section of the yearbook entitled "Sharps and Flats", a half page carries an article with minute details about our beloved choir master: "Mr. Godfrey Ridout of the Royal Conservatory wrote two Mystical Songs for the Canadian Music Concert presented at New York's Carnegie Hall in October of 1953. These were written especially for Miss Lois Marshall in just five days". The writer added that Ridout adapted the words from two of John Donne's Holy Sonnets, and Miss Marshall and the Songs were a great success in New York.