Grief, Memory, Three O'Clock in the Morning: The time that Mavis played a bunny
How MG's childhood theatrical ventures fed her later fiction
On May 20, 1933 — that’s ninety years ago, not quite to the day — a reporter writing in the Montreal Gazette told of how ten men had held up traffic in downtown Montreal as they made their way, on foot, to Bonaventure Station, carrying a “46-foot colored cardboard cutout of the Canadian Pacific liner, Empress of Britain . . . Nor was this all, for along came a cutout of the Canadian National Montreal-Chicago flyer, the International Limited consisting of a huge 6,100 locomotive, nine feet high, and seven cars. These models, with 20 dioramas in color of famous Canadian vacation spots, mounted game animals in natural settings and a wide variety of Canadian products will form the floor show in a space 70 by 80 feet, an attractive plan being followed.”
Their destination, the site of said floor show, was the Century of Progress Exhibition in Chicago, and the crowing glory of the Canadian pavilion was to be a vast map of Canada, measuring 30 by 130 feet.
Whoever the writer for the Gazette was unstinting in his (as I imagine) encomium of the truly remarkable piece of work:
“The huge map, of course, will be the main attraction containing as it does farming and mining areas, national parks, both transcontinental railway systems on general lines, principal resorts and cities and three large cartouches or inserts in which information concerning Canada as a land of opportunity for industry or tourists, is presented in condensed form. . . . More than seven pounds of tacks were used to hold it in place on its temporary frame suspended from the rafters in a manufacturing plant, and about 750 pounds of distemper or dry mineral color, which is mixed with glue, and about 75 pounds of whitening to stretch the cloth, were used. Two mariners compass cards in brilliant color and an insert of national parks in the Canadian Rockies are also on the map which is scaled according to longitudinal and latitudinal lines, and yet is drawn in perspective with an effect of hazy distance which is restful.”
John Gordon Hammond — sometimes known as J. Gordon Hammond, most often referred to as Gordon Hammond — was the brains behind this scheme. I had never heard of him, or of his map, until this morning — my future biographers should take note, the date is May 22, 2023 — and I’m glad now to have made his acquaintance. He had produced, as I’ve gathered, a number of other large-scale installations, mostly on behalf of the CNR, for whom he seems to have worked as a kind of artist-in-residence. Some of his work, for instance, was seen in the Canadian Pavilion at the British Empire Exhibition, in Wembley, in 1924. (I don’t think he had anything to do with the nearly life-size butter sculpture of the then-Prince of Wales, who would eventually become Edward VIII, who would ensure that every Depression-era school child would learn the meaning of the verb “to abdicate.” The rendering of the Prince, his horse, and his ranch, was contained in a refrigerated display case.)
Gordon Hammond was born in Saint John, New Brunswick - I’m not sure in what year, certainly in the 19th-Century, the date of his entry isn’t mentioned in his obituary notice, July 29, 1954. He played the piccolo in a local orchestra, but was more drawn to the visual arts and to the cosmopolitan possibilities of Montreal. The first sign of him is as the set designer and decorator for a 1915 production of a play called “My Friend from India.”
It’s in a theatrical capacity that Gordon Hammond most often appears, both as a designer / decorator, and as a playwright. In 1929, for instance, he was the co-author, with W. Charles P. Rice of “White Wind,” a play that dealt with “the racial antagonism between the Redskin and the Paleface.” On January 1, 1932, it was announced that a Montreal organization newly-formed to promote the production of Canadian plays, The Canadian Theatre Group, would launch itself with the presentation of three new one-acters. Gordon Hammond would be represented by “Futility,” and joining him on the roster were T. M. Morrow with “The Mayor of Trailwood,” and P. N. Jacobson, with “Pity.”
Over the next several months, there were occasional reports in the Montreal Gazette and Star about the imminence of these pieces. April 26th was the opening night; the venue was the Association Hall of the Central YMCA on Drummond Street. This brief notice appeared in the Montreal Star on April 25, 1932.
Note that Gordon Hammond is misidentified as H. Gordon. Note also that among those taking part in the production — the first ever outing of the Canadian Theatre Group — is Mavis Young. This is, certainly, the 9-year old Mavis Gallant (MG). This was not the first time Miss Young had been mentioned in the papers in that same year. Only a month prior, on March 11, in the Gazette we see that Mavis Young is almost the last-listed in the ENORMOUS cast of “Lantern of the Moon,” by Pauline Perrigard, presented by the Montreal High School for Girls, 3449 University Street. Mavis Young is listed, along with Valerie Brown, Mona Osborne, and Patricia Inns as one of the Bunnies.
So, this was one of the many schools (17 is the number always given) MG attended. That she would have a part, however minor, in a school theatrical makes perfect sense. But how did she wind up, a month later, in one of the plays by Gordon Hammond, T. M. Morrow, and / or P. N. Jacobson?
I suppose she might have been bitten by the bug after her Bunny experience and begged to be allowed to attend an open casting, but it makes more sense that there would have been a family connection to either the company or to one of the playwrights. I wondered if her father, a painter, might have been connected to Gordon Hammond; if, perhaps, he had become involved with community theatre as a set decorator, or might have been one of the painters Hammond engaged when he was working on large-scale projects, such as his massive map. That may be true, I suppose, but it’s not the connection. Nor does it seem likely that T. M. Morrow — who won a number of prizes for his plays — has any particular hook on which to hang a link. The truth, as I believe it to be, MG reveals, and fairly diaphanously, in one of the Linnet Muir stories, “In Youth Is Pleasure.” Linnet, having returned to Montreal, seeks out three of her father’s friends, tracks them down to better understand the meaning of his disappearance.
Quentin Keller, author of Forbearance, is certainly P. N. (Percy Nathan) Jacobson, author of Pity. His daughter, memorialized here as “bossy Wendy,” became the prominent Montreal philanthropist Edith Low-Beer. P. N. Jacobson — as he was always named, it was only in his obituary (January 29, 1952) that I learned he was Percy, and only in Edith’s obit that I found the Nathan specified — was very active for a number of years with the Montreal chapter of the Canadian Authors’ Association. A few of his plays were produced in the early days of CBC Radio drama. He was often invited to speak to various clubs and service organizations about theatre: “The Playwright of Tomorrow” was one of his talks. He was active in his synagogue, Temple Emanu-El, and in Jewish affairs in the city (on August 17, 1937, he attended the funeral of Lyon Cohen, Leonard’s grandfather), and he served on a number of committees after the War that looked after the placement of orphans and the vocational rehabilitation of servicemen and women. His alter-ego, in MG’s stories, is described by her own alter-ego, Linnet Muir, as a “jackass.” The living, breathing P. N. Jacobson, whatever his foibles, seems to have been a pillar of his community. One notes that his activity diminishes — to judge by the public record — after the death of his son, Joseph Alfred, an RCAF flight sergeant, in 1942.
I wonder if there might have been some connection between the Jacobson family and the Wiseman family, whence came MG’s mother? Perhaps that was how MG’s father came into Percy’s orbit. I think P. N. was more than a friend; I believe he was an employer. MG’s father worked for a Montreal company that provided high end office furniture to, one supposes, high end offices and the Jacobson family firm was Office Equipment Co. This ad — there were many, many, over the years — appeared in the Gazette on August 14, 1922, three days after MG entered the world.
None of this matters, really. It’s kind of guess work, but all of it seems very likely. The detective in me likes finding the pieces and putting them together, but it changes nothing. I mostly glad to have learned about Hammond and his massive map and shutting down the streets of Montreal for a few minutes with a parade of 10 carrying cardboard cutouts of steamships. What matters mostly is that an intuitive, gifted child, age 10 — a pivotal age, a transitional age, as she wrote in “The Doctor” — lost her father and her life was turned upside down, and if a considerable part of her considerable creative energy was devoted, in one way or another, to understanding the why of it, well, her readers are the beneficiaries.
Thanks for reading. Happy Victoria Day Monday.
Thankful beneficiaries, yes.