POSTING #98

 

Update on Posting #97: Christmas Food Court Flash Mob, Hallelujah Chorus

When I uploaded Posting #97, the total viewings of the Hallelujah YouTube video was an astounding 2.1 million. Now, seven days later, it is an even more astounding 8.5 million.

I guess this is what they mean by the term 'viral video'.

Good for Chorus Niagara, and little Welland!

Chorus Niagara will be performing the full Messiah on December 11 (in Grimsby) and 12 (in St. Catharines). We will be attending the Grimsby performance.

Ottawa, Osteopaths and Other Stories

A few weeks ago (Posting 95)  I told some stories about the Chateau Laurier swimming pool.

Writing that posting brought back some more memories.

One of the reasons I swim is because of a 'dodgy' back which I think I inherited from my father. Every so often Dad's back would 'go out' and he would go to Guelph to visit an osteopath, called Dr. Handorf. (I guess it was just my adolescent sense of humour but I always thought it was funny that an osteopath would have a name like Handorf for an occupation that was so clearly hands-on.)

My sore backs began when I was just 30, working, at the Canadian Immigration office in  London England. I reached down to pick up a heavy book from the bottom shelf of a book case.

And wham!---a severe pain shot across my lower back.

After a colleague helped me straighten up, my right hip was sticking out to the east, while the rest of me was canting to the west---it has been the same pattern with all my sore backs.

Our GP, avuncular Dr. Knight, who lived next door, paid a house call that evening. He reassured me that this wasn't the end of the world, that after some rest I would be able to move around just fine. However, he said, I would probably have to wear an appliance--- he undid some shirt buttons to show me a kind of corset that he always wore---to support the back.

I did recover, but anxious to avoid a corset for life, I took the advice of a book about back troubles and began to swim. Several times a week on my home I would swim in a large pool at London's Marshall Street Baths in Westminster.

When we returned to Canada in 1966, I started swimming at the Chateau Laurier, and sometimes at the Champagne Bath on King Edward. (What a wonderful picture that conjures up---bathing in champagne! The swimming pool, which was named after a local politician named Champagne, is now called the Champagne Fitness Centre. Look guys, that's not an improvement!)

At one point, despite the swimming, my back went out. A friend recommended an osteopath on Metcalfe Street, just a few blocks below Parliament Hill.

The osteopath, who was in his late 60s or early 70s,  looked me over, felt my back and said. "Don't worry, we'll soon have your ass under your shoulders again'.

He had me lie on my face on a treatment table with a hinged bottom so that he could swing the bottom half of my body back and forth to loosen up the muscles. This could go on for 10 or 15 minutes.

Then the osteopath would have me lie on my side with my back to him, wrap his arms around me and administer what I think is called 'an adjustment' in the trade but Pat (who also has back problems) calls a 'scrunch'. This is a sudden, sharp movement that pulls the spine in different directions and produces a 'click' as vertebrae are moved into what is hopefully a better alignment.

 During the swinging back and forth phase, the osteopath would ask questions about what was causing my stress and offer helpful advice. He would also chat about political and other issues of the day. I enjoyed his down-to-earth, Ottawa Valley wit and humour.

One day, as I was being swung he asked if I had had any dealings with the ex-Prime Minister, Mr. Diefenbaker. I said I hadn't but knowing that the  Chief had periodic back problems, I asked if he was a patient.

He might be garrulous but the osteopath wasn't going to reveal any professional secrets. He just 'hmmffed' a bit.

Then he said, "That Mrs. Diefenbaker is a wonderful woman."

I told him that she had taught at the Arthur High School in the 1940s, before she married Mr. Diefenbaker. The Arthur students and parents had all liked her.

"That woman', he said, "will not spend even a second in purgatory. She'll go straight to heaven."

That was his way of telling me that the Chief was indeed a patient but not a very pleasant one and that living with him couldn't have been very easy for his wife.

That fitted with stories one heard at the time, that the Chief who was normally affable and pleasant in public (except when he was on the attack against Grits on the campaign trail or in Question Period!), could be cantankerous in private.

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While Mr. Diefenbaker was Prime Minister he was attending a conference in London when his back went out. Someone suggested he see an osteopath---a rarity at that time in Britain. The osteopath was an Englishman who had qualified as a Doctor of Osteopathy in Missouri, USA.

From all reports, the treatments helped the Chief and he was able to finish the conference.

Now you may well be asking why in the world I would bring up this story.

On the face of it, Mr. Diefenbaker being treated by an osteopath in London wouldn't appear to qualify as an asterisk to history, not even as an asterisk to an asterisk!

But then this wasn't just your garden-variety osteopath.

This was Dr. Stephen Ward.

I can hear younger readers saying, "Stephen who?".

Older readers are likely saying, "That name rings a bell. Wait a minute, Wasn't he connected with the Profumo scandal, Christine Keeler, Mandy Rice-Davies and that lot?"

And once again, age wins out.

In 1961, John Profumo who was British Secretary of State for War, attended a pool party at Lord Astor's estate, Cliveden. At the party, Dr. Ward introduced him to Christine Keeler, one of the bevy of beautiful young women with whom he surrounded himself, some of whom lived in his luxurious Mayfair apartment.

Profumo had an affair with Keeler not realizing she was also having an affair with a spy, a naval attaché at the Soviet Embassy. When the story broke, Profumo had to resign in disgrace.

The story had everything the British like: sex, spies, drugs, the aristocracy. |You can read the juicy story in this Wikipedia article.

In 1963, Dr. Ward was charged with living off the avails of prostitution and during the investigation it was revealed that one of his patients had been Prime Minister Diefenbaker.

There was never a suggestion that the Chief received anything from Dr. Ward but 'scrunches' but some nasty-minded people delighted in trying to imagine him frolicking in an aristocrat's pool with amorous young nymphs.

I have a reasonably elastic imagination but it would never---ever, ever---stretch that far!

I think it is generally agreed now that the prosecution of Dr. Ward was a mistake, that an embarrassed British government was lashing out at him. Rather than living on the avails of prostitution, it is likely that he provided more money and support to the young women than they ever gave him. An avid social climber, he had found that introducing attractive young women to politicians and aristocrats helped him gain access to the upper classes.

But the scandal, which had so many farcical features, ended tragically.

On the last day of the trial, Ward took an overdose of sleeping pills, and after several days in a coma, he died.

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A postscript to the scandal.

While the trial was going on we lived in an apartment  in Marylebone, in central London, and our window cleaner claimed that he also cleaned the windows for one of 'Ward's women', Mandy Rice-Davies.

"The things I have seen", he would say.

But when we pushed him to elaborate, he shook his head. Like the Ottawa osteopath, he had certain professional standards that required him to respect the privacy of his clients.

It all reminded me of George Formby, the Lancashire comedian/singer/actor who had a famous, somewhat racy song, "When I'm Cleaning Windows".

Here is a YouTube version of his song.

It's an 'oldie' but I think you might enjoy it.

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See you on December 12th for Posting #99 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting,  or email me at johnpathunter@gmail.com.