Finding Home: The Life and Legacy of David Adams
A Shaky Start
Charlie Adams
David Charles Adams was born on November 16, 1928 at St. Boniface Hospital in Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada. His mother Stella had suffered from malnutrition during her pregnancy which resulted in David being born with rickets. This disease, caused by a deficiency in Vitamin D, causes the bones to soften with the possibility of some deformity of the legs and pelvic structure. So it was that one of Canada’s strongest male dance pioneers, famous for the execution of very demanding lifts in his partnering work, entered the world in a severely weakened condition. According to David’s older sister Joy, this condition affected his mobility as a toddler. He had almost white hair, a common characteristic of children suffering from rickets.
Dr. Joseph Hollinger, who became the family’s regular physician for many years, recommended that David see a specialist, who prescribed a special diet, cod liver oil and sun lamp treatments. In his writings, David described himself as a small child: “I have a picture in my mind of a small child with enormous goggles on, being given some kind of sun lamp treatment. November was not the time for sun bathing. When the summer arrived, I was put out in the sun- a really shocking state of affairs for this was one of those times when being outside in the sun was ‘taboo’. The fact that I was also skinny added fuel to the gossip column. My hair was snow white, as were my eyebrows. In order to keep me from having eye problems, my eyebrows had to be colored with charcoal. What a sight I must have presented!”
David’s first home was on Havelock Street in Winnipeg. According to his father Charlie, it was poorly built, drafty and damp, causing David’s mother Stella to develop a case of rheumatism. A maid by the name of Miss Sheppard was hired to help Stella with the housework and to care for David after they came home from the hospital. It was not long before she was fired, after it was discovered that she had been sneaking her boyfriend into the house at night. Eventually the builder of the house was sued, allowing the family to move to a house on St. Mary’s Road at the end of 1929. In December of that year, the family attended a big Christmas dinner at the home of David’s grandparents (Charlie’s parents- Charles James Senior and Annie Florence Adams). At this occasion, David remembered being given a wonderful toy tractor. Another major event was the extreme freeze during the winter of 1929/30. According to David’s father Charlie, the wind blew right through the walls of the house due to the poor insulation.
When David was one and a half, the family moved to the second floor of the Eugenie apartments in Winnipeg, where the heat was unbearable all summer long. From one extreme to the other. David seemed to recall the green furniture at this place and that his mother’s brother “Uncle Boy”, as he was called, came to live with the family for a while during this time. In David’s words: “I recall a visit by my uncle, known to the family as Uncle Boy. Dr. Alan Mozley was a zoologist and always a mystery in our lives. He was the member of the family who travelled, sending letters from faraway places such as Southeast Africa, Egypt, Libya and England. At that time, I did not walk so this man seemed like a giant with his high boots and britches. ‘Why does he not walk?’ he asked, and Stella told him about my rickets.”
Alan Mozley became a renowned zoologist whose specialty was snails. He did some ground breaking research on the disease Bilharzia, making the discovery that snails were host to the disease. He published several short books related to his work throughout the course of his lifetime. His research and his sense of adventure took him on expeditions not only all over Canada, but throughout many parts of the world.
In 1931, the family moved to a small Spanish bungalow on Kitson Street in Winnipeg, built by the owner of the Eugenie Apartments, where they had been living previously. According to Charlie, the builders had dumped some lumber down the chimney, so he decided to solve the problem in a rather dramatic fashion. Here is Charlie’s description of the scene, as recorded by David on one of his family visits during the 1970s:“There was lumber in the chimney…and the way I handled the situation was this. In the wintertime, one night when Mother was out, I set fire to that bloody wood in the chimney and I burnt the goddamn stuff. That’s what I did. I took one hell of a chance, but it was wintertime and snow on top of the roof- a flat roof you know. I didn’t figure there was much danger, so I put a bunch of paper in there and I set fire to it, and burned it up! That’s how I got rid of THAT!”
It was while the family lived in that bungalow on Kitson Street that David became ill with measles and also biliousness, causing distress to his digestive system. In David’s words: “I got childhood diseases which had a devastating effect in some cases because I was weak. I survived them and went on trying to develop. It all became a kind of blur in my memory; there was a film over life.” As his health gradually improved, he was able to visit various friends of the family- something he enjoyed as a child. He had fond memories of the Edmond family, who lived on a chicken farm and had two boys close to his age. David recalled that Mrs. Edmond made absolutely delicious enormous meals and served green cake for breakfast. These visits helped David recover from his ailments.
David’s mother Stella had her own health issues. She was susceptible to angina attacks and was prescribed nitroglycerin pills for her condition, which she was to take before or during an attack. One of her earliest attacks took place in the early 1930s when the family was living on Kitson Street. In David’s words: “I remember Stella crashing to the floor and me running to the school to get my sister Joy, who would administer the pill. My mother was cured again…. she was a tough lady- a survivor.”
Joy Stella Mackay was Stella’s oldest child, born on November 20, 1920 in Winnipeg Manitoba. She was the only child from Stella’s previous marriage to Neil Andrew Laird Mackay, an officer in the Imperial Army. According to Joy’s birth registration certificate, Stella and Neil were married on May 6, 1920, in Calgary Alberta. Joy’s birth was described as “posthumous” which indicates that her father died sometime between the wedding and her birth date. According to the family records, Stella had been very ill at the time of Joy’s birth. In later years, she insisted that Joy was a premature baby, even though she was born 6 months after her marriage to Mackay. To admit having premarital sex in the 1920s would have been a shocking revelation. According to Janine and Charlie, Stella and Joy preferred to keep all of these family secrets a mystery.
On September 5, 1927, Stella Maude Mozley and Charles George Adams were married at Knox Church in Winnipeg, Manitoba. They had become friends by 1924, having both attended information sessions on the enlightened teachings of Science of Being- a philosophical and spiritual movement. Eventually, they fell in love. According to David’s daughter Janine, their wedding reception was likely held at Miss Haye’s Tea Room, along the Red River north of Winnipeg. From that point on, Charlie adopted Joy as his own and both she and her mother took the surname of Adams.
Sadly, Stella had a few miscarriages between David’s birth and the birth of her youngest child Lawrence. However, in July of 1931, she gave birth to a new daughter- Joan Maud Adams. Joan was born with the condition known as “blue baby”- a congenital heart defect in which a lack of oxygen causes the baby’s skin and lips to have a bluish tinge. Unfortunately, corrective surgery for this condition was not possible in the 1930s. The only solution was to limit Joan’s activities and try to keep her calm. This was a big challenge for a young child. She did not understand why she did not have the same freedom as other children. The family were all extremely protective of Joan, which limited her social development in the long term. It wasn’t until Joan suffered a heart attack in her later years that some of her health challenges were finally treated successfully with bypass surgery. In David’s words: “The stigma that went with Joan was that the birth had left her retarded. It was not until the death of Stella that Joan was released to the world and allowed to show her true mettle. She was never retarded but when you are treated as if you are, something goes wrong. I have great admiration for Joan and her survival process. Her grasp of life would leave some standing still.” According to David’s daughter Janine, after Stella passed away, Joy felt it was her responsibility to run Joan’s life, so it wasn’t until after Joy’s death in 1995 that Joan (at age 64) was able to take charge of her own life.
On a personal note, I remember visiting Joan and David’s older sister Joy at their acreage home in Aldergrove, BC in the early 1980s. They had a few horses and lots of cats. Joan and I went outdoors to watch the annual fox hunt while David and Joy were visiting inside. We had a grand time and ended up at the local pub, enjoying the festivities with the locals, much to Joy’s chagrin! She was still very protective of Joan, even though both of them were considerably older by this time. My impression of Joan was that she had a great sense of humor and needed more space to enjoy life.
David’s younger brother, Lawrence Vaughan Adams, was born on November 2, 1936. By this time, the family was living at 616 MacMillan Ave and Stella was 38. In later years, she admitted to Janine that the pregnancy and birth of Lawrence was the most difficult of all of her child bearing experiences. As it turned out, she was carrying twins, but only Lawrence survived. It was a very difficult time for David’s mother both physically and emotionally. While Stella was ill and convalescing after her return home from the hospital, Joy took upon the task of caring for baby Lawrence. After this difficult birth, Stella was very weak and was diagnosed by Dr. Joe (Dr. Joseph Hollinger) as being anemic. According to David’s younger sister Joan, she suffered from this condition for quite some time. Despite all of this, Joan described Lawrence as a happy child who seemed to be easy to care for, although he made strange with women caregivers outside of the family and hated sirens of any kind.
Family Life During the Depression
The Great Depression of the 1930s was a global economic and social disaster. Canada was hit hard. The decade became known as the Dirty Thirties on the prairies due to a devastating drought and resulting dust storms. According to David’s father Charlie, times were lean and they were “always in the hole.” In 1926, Charlie was hired as a Motor Mechanic with the Winnipeg Electric Company and was promoted to General Foreman in the early 1930s. David remembered that his father worked long hours with a lot of night work. Despite Charlie’s steady employment, it was a challenging time for the family. David recalled how grateful the family was to receive donations of fresh wild meat and fish from some of Charlie’s co-workers and family friends. According to Janine’s family research document, the family maintained a vegetable garden when they could, harvesting fresh veggies in season and canning as much as possible for the winter months. However, there were still times when there was not enough to eat.
David recalled the depression years in Winnipeg brought about many changes- businesses that went under and others that thrived as a result. In his words: “This Depression, which had been brought about by the misuse of financial prosperity, hit not those people so much as those below that level. The ordinary man on the street was without and could not see the way out. At the end of it all, the attributes of not allowing that to happen again and knowing how to deal with bad times was ingrained.” However, the roughness of those times seems to have brought the Adams family closer together in some respects. Although they were struggling to meet basic needs, they managed to make the most of their situation through Stella’s clever budgeting and general frugality.
David shared some good memories from this time with his daughter Janine during a recorded chat they had in 1994. In his words: “Nobody had any money to speak of, and some people didn’t have very much to eat, yet somehow or other, there was this sort of calmness about everyday life…you see, the family was much more important, and social life was very selective. You were very fussy about who you socialized with and yet it was important in your life to welcome people who would drop in to see you – to talk or even just sit around and listen to the radio together. And, of course, we listened to 78 gramophone records, played games…we made our own entertainment. In our home, Charlie played the fiddle. I played when I was young. We had a piano too, when we lived at 606 MacMillan Avenue, and we used to have sing songs. At Christmas time, Mother would sit down and play the piano, Charlie would play the fiddle and we’d sing. Stella could have been a concert singer.”
According to Janine, the 1930s was the decade about which her father most reminisced. In Janine’s words: “These years, of course, were the main years of his childhood, shared with siblings, rich with memories of time spent together as a family, socializing with friends, going for picnics, vacationing at rented cottages. Charlie always had a car, and David remembered that the family was always going places. The family got out into the sun and fresh air together; this was good for morale. Those times of play and fun helped to offset the realities of everyday life with its hardships, challenges and conflicts.”
Some of David’s happiest memories from his childhood were the weekend outings to Pineridge Park, as it was referred to by the Adams family. The actual name was PInehaven. His daughter Janine described it in this way: “The park contained both a treed area and a grassy field like area. There must have been an area with a lot of rock, because Charlie said that truckloads of rock and shale had been taken out to terrace the back yard when the family lived a 190 Kitson Street.”
David loved to recall this special time in his life: In his words: “We were a picnic family. Each weekend there was a visit to Pineridge- a spot outside the city where we could, winter or summer, eat and play. The summer was the time to build a bonfire and cook food; the winter was a time to eat sandwiches in the car.” He described Pineridge as a “beautiful land of discovery, prairie country with few inhabitants, Manitoba in the rough.” In the spring, the family decorated their home with spring crocuses; in the summer, they collected wild fruits and nuts to be consumed or preserved. Every winter, they went on an expedition to search for their family Christmas tree at Pineridge. In David’s words: “Each season was special for all of us so each journey was anticipated with a different kind of pleasure.”
David loved the summertime, when he was free to explore his favorites spots: “I could explore, I could watch the insects and birds, I could lie on my back in that vast space and feel the pulse of the earth. Out there on the prairies, I found that state of mind which separated me from others- my need to be a loner and be with my own thoughts.” David frightened his parents, especially his father, on several occasions when he disappeared from the rest of the family. However, he always managed to reappear “like magic” when it was time to eat. His innate sense of direction usually worked to help him find his way back. Stella was concerned that David would make contact with poison ivy, which he managed to do several times, despite her frequent warnings. One day, the family enjoyed an oak bonfire and David decided to play pirates. He used a piece of firewood to paint on his moustache and ended up developing a bad case of poison oak around his mouth. The treatment was very uncomfortable.
On a happier note, it was at Pineridge that David tried golfing. In his words: “We would dig holes, mark them, and go to it…My left-handedness became even more obvious. I had to use a left-handed club, and we had some. I was unable to hold the top of the club. I had to hold it about half way down, but I played, and seriously. This tiny lad, with almost white hair, cut in a brush cut as it was called then called, golfed with a vengeance!” David’s grandson Mark (Janine’s son), born in 1979, inherited his grandfather’s left handedness.
Another memorable experience for David at Pineridge was the year he experienced a huge dust storm. In his words: “The dust came, but to make the rape of the land worse, the locusts also came. We were on a picnic at Pineridge one year when I came close to being left alone with one of those childhood experiences that last a lifetime. I was on my own, quite far from the family and the car. There was a black cloud in the sky. I paid no attention- probably dust, I thought. I was busy examining an anthill closely; they had always fascinated me. My intense scrutiny was not interrupted by the sounds coming closer and closer. Suddenly, I was buried alive in a cloud of moving, hovering locusts. They were all at least two inches long. I screamed and began to brush them off, but there were hundreds of them. Suddenly, I was picked up bodily, and moved. The family were away from the point of landing of the locusts, but watched me disappear from sight. My father ran into the cloud, somehow found me, and carried me out. Had I been there much longer, I am sure that I would have suffocated. Back in the car, the problem of getting the locusts off me began. I was covered. The cloud moved but did not engulf the car, fortunately. I went away from that experience fascinated, but not frightened. I was lucky.”
Because of Charlie’s employment with the Winnipeg Bus Garage, the family was able to rent various cottages along the Winnipeg River at a reduced rate. These cottages were owned by the Winnipeg Electric Company and were located at their various power plants. Sometimes the family took a boat trip up the river as part of the journey to their destination. David remembered seeing First Nations villages and lots of teepees as they travelled along the river in the 1930s. In David’s words: “Many a summer was spent in a rented cottage along the shores of Lake Winnipeg. We even stayed in a rented trailer one summer. Again, it was a whole way of life. No electricity, kerosene lamps, well water- so different from life in the city.”
One of the most memorable summer cottages they rented was located at Sandy Hook, along the southern shore of Lake Winnipeg. Charlie would often join the family on weekends, the rest of the family staying through the week. It was here that David slipped off the dock into deep water at the age of 5 or 6. Fortunately, his older sister Joy rescued him immediately, but the experience frightened him. He avoided water for a long time because he sensed the water pulling him in whenever he was close to it. As Janine has pointed out, there may have been something to this involuntary attraction to water because David later took an interest in divining water, along with other objects, in his later years. David also recalled water spouts on Lake Winnipeg and twisters that came close to touching down. All of these events added to his fascination with the power of nature.
Another favorite picnic spot for David was the old limestone quarries at Tyndal, north of Winnipeg. Many of the buildings in the city were built with this limestone. According to David, there were many fossils embedded in some of them. As early as age 4 or 5, David began collecting fossils. He described his hobby in this way: “My lumps of old rock were the source of much amusement. They eventually prompted visits to the museum, poring through endless books on prehistoric life.” All of these unique country places would be less accessible to the family as time went on.
Road Trips
With Charlie being a mechanic, the family was never without a car. David remembered several vehicles throughout his growing years, but the two that stuck out in his mind were the 1926 and 1928 Essex models. The 1926 Essex was purchased not long after David was born. This was replaced with the later 1928 model in 1933, for the grand sum of $250. Charlie overhauled the engine and painted it dark green. In his words: “Then I got the radiator shell, the bumpers and everything all chrome painted and that car looked pretty goddamn smart! Then I drove that son-of-a-bitch 100,000 miles!”
According to David, the two Essex cars took the family everywhere and went through various stages of development as the family grew. During the extreme cold temperatures typical of a Winnipeg winter, Charlie was never at a loss as to how to adapt his vehicle. In his words: “And then to start the car when it was 35 degrees below zero, I took the starter off and put ball bearings in the starter instead of bronze bushings. NOW! That makes all the difference between night and day for a starter when it’s 35 below!”
In 1938, David went on a trip to Minneapolis with his parents. It was the family’s first trip to the USA, although Joy and Joan did not go. They drove 600 miles in 12 hours, 50 miles per hour. Charlie was thrilled to put his beloved 1928 Essex to the test, suddenly exclaiming at one point: “That son-of-a -bitch did 25 miles to the gallon!!” According to David, his mother Stella looked at him with disgust for the language being used in the presence of their child and, in a reprimanding tone, simply uttered “Charlie!!!” In David’s words: “Knowing Charlie, the trunk must have been filled with every conceivable spare part that could possibly go wrong. He was always prepared, even down to an axle.”
As they approached Minneapolis, David saw before him an enormous city- so much bigger than Winnipeg. On the whole, it looked more crowded, with narrow streets. While in Minneapolis, they stayed at the upscale Curtis Hotel. According to Janine, given that the family was not well off, this may have been a business trip of some sort, partially financed by the Winnipeg Bus Garage. This would also explain why Joy stayed at home to care for Joan. Two decades later, David, his wife and professional partner Lois Smith, and his brother Lawrence would stay at the same hotel while they were on tour with the National Ballet of Canada.
The Curtis Hotel was very luxurious in David’s eyes, like something out of a movie. When the waiter arrived in the enormous dining room, with its floor length table cloths, David sat there with his mouth open, staring at him. In David’s words: “He was black and very large. This was my first contact with a black person. I suppose I had seen porters at the railway stations back home, but this was my first close contact. He was fantastic, for he realized very quickly what was happening. ‘First time little fella?’ he asked. I acknowledged. Within moments he had me won over. He was always smiling and made me feel like I was a very special guest at the hotel. My gratitude goes out to him for giving me a good start on my anti-bigot campaign.”
While staying at the hotel, David was allowed to go down to the drug store to buy a comic book alone. He was amazed at the choice of magazines and began browsing through uncensored material that he had likely never seen before. He also noticed a man in the corner playing at a pin ball machine (something new to David), slamming the machine and swearing. David approached him out of curiosity and the man said, “Here kid, there’s a nickel, you try it. Maybe you’ll have some luck.” David took the nickel, followed his instructions, and hit the jackpot! As the money poured out, he was amazed and shocked. The man swore, using a word David had never heard before, and then laughed saying “It’s all yours kid, take it!” David gathered the money but carefully gave the man his nickel back. He bought some candy for his mom and dad and chose a comic book for himself. His parents laughed and thanked him, but Stella remarked that she hoped David would not continue to play with those machines….in other words, gamble.
The family went on various social outings to visit their friends, such as the following trip to the Edmond’s place. David’s father Charlie recalled one Sunday in 1934, when he “borrowed” a passenger bus from the Winnipeg Bus Garage. The Adams family, along with their friends the Winchesters, all boarded a 21-passenger white bus and headed off to see the Edmond family, who lived on a farm outside of the city. In Charlie’s words: “I didn’t have any permission to use any goddamn bus. I just went down to that garage on Sunday morning, got into it and drove it out. Hell! It was 20 below weather. The bus had only water in it. We didn’t use anti-freeze (laughter) but we had fun, by God! That’s for sure! We skated out there on that little pond that they made with pails of water.” According to Charlie, some of his co-workers knew about the incident of the borrowed bus, but nobody said a word. “Nobody would let Charlie Adams down. No fear. Everybody kept their trap shut, and I never heard a word about it…I sure took a chance, I tell you!”
The family also visited the Gaffrie family throughout those early years. The connection to this family began with David’s birth in 1928, when both Stella and Mrs. Gaffrie were in the hospital together. David had many happy memories of playing with the Gaffrie children at their home. He described them as “simple folk, happy and carefree people.” David remembered the well located in the middle of their house and that, when water was needed, the bucket was simply dropped through a hole in the floor. The downside of this was that now and then a chicken would fall in and drown, something taken in stride in that household.
The Gaffrie family eventually moved to a log home in Prince George, close to Great Falls along the Winnipeg River. According to Janine’s family research document, “getting there required nineteen miles traveling along a washboard road, then taking a rope-pulled ferry across the river. In wintertime, they had to drive across the frozen Winnipeg River. One time, three miles into the bush, a large truck put the Adams car into a ditch and left the scene. Fortunately, someone soon came along to tow the car out.”
On another visit to the Gaffrie’s place, their car got stuck in “gumbo mud”. As the story goes, the storekeeper of Great Falls, Mr. Jones, lent them a wheelbarrow in which to put the mud, which had accumulated around the wheels and fender of the car. After the task was completed, Mr. Jones then invited the family in for Thanksgiving dinner. According to Charlie, “It was the BEST Thanksgiving dinner we had ever had!!” Later, when Charlie took the car down to the garage to clean the remaining mud out from underneath, there was still another wheelbarrow full of mud left to remove.
David had fond memories of the many trips the family took to Miss Hayes Tea Room, twenty miles north of Winnipeg, along the Red River. Stella and Charlie likely had their wedding photos taken at this location in 1927. In David’s words: “Miss Hayes was a true Manitoba pioneer. The solid stone house with lovely gardens was very old in the 1930s. She had lived in that house all of her life. Miss Hayes spoke of her father taking several days to make the trip to Winnipeg and also spoke of the Indians who would visit them when the men were away. They would come to the house, she said, and ask for food.”
David told the story of when there was a knock at Miss Hayes door, she opened it, and there was a large Indian man standing there in traditional garb. Both Miss Hayes and the man were so startled by one another that the man turned and ran off. The house had no electricity and was built before the turn of the century. “This was a place,” David recalled, “where people got dressed up and went to meet friends and family, to share news, tell stories, and relax over a cup of tea.”
David did not think of the 1930s as being the “dirty 30s”. He describes them as being beautiful and peaceful years. When he remembered the tea house, the images that came to mind were of “women dressed in light colors, pastels or whites- flowing lines blowing in the wind, large hats and parasols to protect them from the sun. He envisioned cups of tea, small sandwiches and cakes, with an Art Nouveau feel to the picture. The men were very stiff and never sat down during the tea. They wore plus fours (pants that were four inches below the knees) made of tweed, with tweed caps and stood around with their hands clasped behind their backs.”
Miss Hayes reconnected with David’s family in the late 1940s, staying with them when they lived at Havencroft, north of Winnipeg, for a winter. David remembered that she was forever losing her front teeth, having aged considerably at that point in time. In May of 1992, David visited Winnipeg and, through the good graces of some old friends, was able to travel along the River Road and rediscover the Tea House still standing and functioning as a restaurant.
To School or Not to School?
David’s first few days of formal schooling did not go well for him. In later life, David shared a memory with me of him being at school as a very young child. He was outside for recess and started to cry, sobbing uncontrollably. He stayed outside until he was found by one of the school personnel. His mother was called and she came to pick him up. She took him to see Dr. Joe (Dr. Joseph Hollinger), who said David was too weak physically to deal with the stress of attending school. He recommended private tutoring at home.
David’s first tutor was Mrs. Perton. After that, he went to a place where he was taught by Mrs. Shelford, who, according to David, had an acute sinus condition. She crammed so much information into him that, by the time he went back to school in grade three, he was ahead of everyone so he was pushed up a couple of grades. David remembered attending Gladstone School in Norwood, Queen Elizabeth School (formerly Tache School) and King George V School, where he and other boys were taught basic military skills in preparation for possible enlistment in WW2. David described his experience with formal schooling in this way:“I always found the school system a puzzlement; it did not teach me anything that I did not already know. Eventually, I gave up on formal education and left it before my full time had been completed. In some eyes, that makes me a poor ignorant man. For me, it gave me the chance to at last expand and learn those things which I would need for my life- not those things which someone else thought I would need. I am a self- taught person.”
David had an incredibly wide range of knowledge. His library of books on art, religion, philosophy, architecture, history, archeology, dance, audio technology, film, and music attested to this truth. He was a highly “educated” person, in the deeper sense of the word, who continued to read and learn new things for the greater part of his life.
David did admit there was one special teacher from his school years- her name was Mrs. Bartholomew. She taught at Gladstone School and helped him develop his love of music. He expressed his gratitude for her when he reflected on the importance of music in his life.
Musical Worlds
It was while the family was living at 190 Kitson Street that David’s father Charlie acquired the family’s first radio- a large Dictator with great sound. In David’s words: “My father would open the door when he came home and play the radio very loudly, so that his status symbol could be heard by one and all!”
David said that his own relationship with the radio was “long and intense. I listened to music all day- pops of the day and classical music. I seemed to be starved for it and drank it in without stop. In those depressed days, the radio was so very important to all of us; it was our contact with the outside world. It was THE media.” David also enjoyed listening to the family’s gramophone, although he was only allowed to listen, not touch. He remembered the 78rpm records of Enrico Caruso and other classical composers of the time. The family’s collection was small but it was valued highly. David gradually learned how to read bits of the newspaper that arrived each day- at first the comics and then the rest. In his words: “The radio, the gramophone and the newspaper remained our lifeline for many years. Each period brought some new item which would have an enormous influence on all of us.”
In David’s personal writings, he dedicated several pages to the role of music in his life. In his words: “Endless moments in my life relate to music and the important place it has in my being. Sitting in front of a Dictator radio in the 1930s, absorbing hours of topical and classical music, my ears began that journey which will not end until my ears are silenced forever.”
How true this was to be! Towards the end of David’s life, his health was deteriorating as a result of the devastating effects of two damaging strokes. During this time, listening to his favorite symphonies and other loved pieces brought him tremendous consolation. In the last hours of his life, he was unable to communicate. I placed a set of headphones on his head, connected to a Walkman CD player, so that he could be comforted by some of his favorite music. The nurse informed me that hearing is the last sense to go. It is my hope that the music, along with the voices of his loved ones, were with him until the very end.
David’s paternal grandparents had a player piano which he tried out as soon as his legs were long enough. The family sang around that piano so many times, in addition to the regular sing songs at home, with Stella on the piano and Charlie on the fiddle. Singing became an important part of David’s life at an early age. His party piece was to sing My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean at the drop of a hat. One time, he was taken to school by Joy just so that he could perform this special number. In David’s words: “I was a little ham from the beginning and loved to sing in front of the students.”
David recalled the Depression was a time for song. When the family was at the beach in the summer, they would often go to the local hall and join in the singing. During the time David was in school, he sang in choirs and also sang some duets and solos. He remembered singing a duet with his classmate Harry Heap in the Manitoba Music Festival when he was eight years old. They received some favorable comments from the adjudicator.
At school, David was also introduced to the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra. A children’s matinee was always part of their concert visit to Winnipeg. The conductor at that time was Dimitri Mitropoulis- a short, bald gentleman with enough energy for several conductors. David was impressed that he used no score and no podium, conducting a whole ballet in front of the orchestra. In David’s words: “My eyes and ears had a feast!”
As mentioned earlier, David was grateful to Mrs. Bartholomew for her positive influence on him. She taught him the basics of reading music. He remembered what a great teacher she was, considering that she had only a few scratchy records in her collection. In his words: “She took us into another world. There was only one bad moment, when I laughed at a recording of Amelita Galli-Curci. I had many things to learn, I was told. Under her direction, I gained a love of music that will not leave me alone for a moment. I tip my hat to her!”
David’s mother Stella noted that David had a good sense of rhythm. He loved to march around the front room in time to whatever music happened to be playing on their wind-up gramophone. It was while the family was living at 606 MacMillan Avenue that Stella decided musical training would be a good thing for David. However, this idea turned out to be somewhat disastrous. His parents decided to enroll him in violin lessons but his father and the violin teacher had differing ideas on how it should be played, so that was the end of that. Piano lessons resulted in a similar fate. When asked later in life what instrument he played, David’s response was: “either the record player or the CD player.” However, he never regretted the fact that he had little formal musical training. Rather, he was grateful that he had a natural ear for music that guided him throughout his dance career.
When David began dancing, another world of music opened up for him. He danced to music he had never heard before and it whetted his appetite for more. During his early years with the Winnipeg Ballet Club, he discovered that he had a good musical memory. He would sit on his front porch singing the score for a whole ballet, and then another. In David’s words, “I was amazed that I could remember every note of the music- amazed and exhilarated!”
The Science of Being
David’s parents were both members of the Winnipeg Lightbearers. As mentioned previously,they met each other at one of the group’s meetings. Stella eventually became a CLB (Chief Lightbearer), qualifying her to become a teacher of Science of Being. The leader of this movement was Baron Eugene Alexandrovich Fersen, born on November 18 (around 1873) in Russia. Baron Fersen’s mother sensed that her child would be a gift to the world, so she called him Svetozar, which means “The Lightbearer”. The Science of Being philosophy is best described in its founder’s words:
“Science of Being simply strips the mystery and uncertainty from plain, basic Truths of Life and puts you in direct conscious contact with the Universal Forces and Laws amidst which you live. It teaches you to attune yourself intelligently to the gigantic ebb and flow of those Cosmic Currents, in such fashion as to enlist their full power to help you reach your goal, instead of unconsciously opposing yourself to them.”
During the 1920s, Svetozar began to spread this movement to a number of locations in Canada, including Winnipeg, Manitoba. He eventually became a revered friend of the Adams family, always spending some time at their home when he came to Winnipeg. He remained a special friend throughout the 1930s and until his death in the 1950s. David and his siblings were all taught about the philosophy and became involved in many of the meetings and assemblies that took place.
The Great Tower of Light (World Centre of the Lightbearers) was located in Seattle, Washington. Janine remembers visiting this impressive place with her father David when she was three or four years old (mid 1950s). It was a magical experience for her to see the grandiose structure, like a palace, with its amazing sculptures, pieces of art and ornate furnishings! She was very impressed with Svetozar’s gentle and patient response to her excitement and curiosity about all of those wonderful objects to discover.
The teachings David absorbed from the Science of Being philosophy were important to him during his lifetime. In October of 2006, David shared a quotation from these teachings with Janine- words he had always remembered, words that had been very meaningful to him throughout his life:
“I am open now in this material existence to the influx of Thy infinite abundance and Thy limitless supply. My mind is open on the mental plane to the influx of Thy infinite abundance and Thy limitless supply. Forever is my soul open on the spiritual plane to the influx of Thy infinite abundance and Thy limitless supply.”
The above quote was read at the celebration of David’s life gathering in November, 2007.
Significance of Winnipeg
In his personal writings, David reflected on the importance of growing up in Winnipeg: “The place of birth is the center of life for as long as you remain. Winnipeg was large in my eyes and St. Boniface was a mystery. The city of Winnipeg was important for several reasons. Not only was it (and still is) the center of the North American continent, it was the gateway to the west. Everything had to pass through us within continental Canada. Some came with intent and others missed their train and decided to stay. To be in Winnipeg was to find yourself on what were purported to be the widest streets in North America, to see a busy thriving city with street cars, lots of automobiles, quite a few tall buildings, and two railway stations.”
All of this was amazing for David to see as a young child. He also remembered the extremes in weather. What better place to experience this than on the corner of Portage Avenue and Main Street. In his words: “A true Winterpegger could stand there at minus 40 with a gale force wind blowing and admire the view, given that you were suitably attired.” David described the incident of the newsboy who, as the story went, had stood at Portage and Main all day. He wandered into a hospital mumbling that he felt strange. When examined, it was found that his brain was partially frozen; they had to defrost his brain slowly so as not to kill him.
“During my years in Winnipeg”, wrote David, “I did not think about how cold it was or how hot; it was a fact of life and you dealt with it. We did not relate to other places. In my younger years, there were no nation-wide weather reports- only local. You listened to these and gauged the layers by the temperature.”
David loved to tell the story of the morning he walked to school on an exceptionally cold winter day. By this time, the family had moved to 197 Birchdale Avenue in the district of Norwood, Winnipeg. In his words:
“To get to Queen Elizabeth School, I had to walk about two miles. Not bad. In the winter the sidewalks were cleared, often before the roads. I got up in the dark, which was normal for winter, and got dressed for school. ‘I think it is very cold this morning David. You better dress warmly.’ No one looked at the thermometer that hung just outside the kitchen window. The windows told part of the story- the inside windows were frosted, as were the storm windows, and the house was cooler than usual. That morning I put on everything- long johns, sweaters, extra socks and the moccasins. When I left, I had a clipped beaver lamb coat on, scarves, buffalo mitts, ear muffs plus a hat.
As I stepped outside, I knew that it was colder than normal; the air cut into my lungs and it was hard to breathe. The wind was blowing so strongly it was hard to walk against it. I put my buffalo mitts in front of my face, looked down to find my way, and started my journey. Crossing Coronation Park was even more difficult because of the drifting snow. Finally, I battled my way to the school. There was no one in the playground, but that was normal for a cold windy day. Inside the school, it was very quiet. This was not normal on any day. There were no students and no teachers. I found the janitor, who said: “What are you doing here young man? Didn’t you hear on the radio? School is cancelled for today!” Not only had we neglected to look at the thermometer, we had not turned on the radio. “Why?” was my reply. “Because it is close to 50 below zero and there is one hell of a wind! Go home!!” Without question, I turned tail and began my journey home.
That kind of cold is very strange. I had not experienced minus 50 (F). I knew that I had to get home quickly. Bare flesh freezes in seconds and prolonged exposure kills. When I arrived home, there it was- a thermometer that had bottomed out. I did not go out for the rest of the day. Did my father drive to work? Yes, he did. I would like to see the car of this day and age that would start under those circumstances in an unheated garage.”
Fascination with Film
David’s introduction to film started at an early age. He had fond memories of going to the movies at the Crescent Theatre in Norwood with his sister Joy as early as age six or seven. He told me that he didn’t like the cartoons. Laurel and Hardy made him cry. He recalled seeing The Perils of Pauline (a series), Ben Hurand Frankenstein, all of which made quite an impression on him. In 1935, he saw his first Fred Astaire movie Top Hat and, subsequently, became a great fan of his movies. Eventually, he started going to the Saturday matinees alone and attended evening performances occasionally.
In David’s words: “The necessity to move or dance was there in me. I remember putting on various bits of clothing belonging to my elders and prancing about the carpet in the front room. I had no idea in my young mind where this would lead me. The largest influence of my life was to happen right there in the movie house through a Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers film. I was bitten, and there was no retreat; it would lead me into the life of dance. I did not ask for dance lessons- I just wanted to see the next film with dance in it, and the next, and the next. Joy, fortunately, was as avid a fan as I was, so I had that older person to take me.”
1938 was a pivotal year for David. It was the year Swing Time was released, the last of a group of Fred Astaire films, and also the year David was to audition for the Winnipeg Ballet Club. In David’s words: “Mother and I were traveling on a streetcar into downtown Winnipeg. Just as we passed the Osborne Movie House, my mother turned to me and said ‘David, would you like to take dance lessons?’ There was a small pause- then came the affirmative ‘Yup’.” From this point on, David’s life would take a dramatic turn towards the world of professional dance.
