There’s something about Mary

In 1933, at Upper Canada College in Toronto, I was the drum major of the school’s Cadet Corps Band, not on account of any musical ability, but because I could wield the baton.

The big event of the year was the Corp’s annual ball. This was such an important and attractive event that one had to have lined up a girl well in advance, as I had done. However, just one week before the party, she came down with chicken pox.

Sunday dinners were special, with all the family present, and at this particular meal I brought up the dreadful proposition of being without a date for the dance. I don’t remember how she did it, but suddenly I found myself behind the eight ball as my mother declared: “I’ll get you a girl!”

Mother had a patented way of putting things, real clever-like, and there was no way of getting out of this one. I pictured buckteeth, flat feet and an awful figure. But Mom poured on the pressure and I finally, gracefully caved in and accepted the inevitable. I even hoped out loud that the girl would be “nice.”

On the day of the dance, I sent her a corsage, borrowed dad’s car, and arrived at her place. I rang the bell and was met by the Chinese cook. He was impressed with my Cadet Corps uniform, but I forgot he was even there when I looked up the stairs. One look at the gorgeous creature that came down those stairs and I was totalled. Her name was Mary.

Some years later, in June 2000, I was filing the incredible collection of our letters when out dropped Mary’s dance card from that night, Feb. 17, 1933. Of her 16 dances, I had six.

It was a great evening and the start of a lovely story that went on for 65 years, most of which were spent at Lynn Lake.

— The author worked at the Lynn Lake base metals mines in northern Manitoba during the 1930s and ’40s. This is the first of several excerpts from a talk given at a Lynn Lake reunion in 2004.