The Ghosts of Old Vic High, by Nicholas Spillios
Date: 1945
They were the grandest ghosts you would ever want to meet - the ghosts of Old Vic High. If the building was still standing, I know that I would be there to meet them. There was something absolutely unique about each one of them. They were my teachers - and I miss them.
Vic was not your ordinary school. Yes, there were other high schools including Westglen, as well as Garneau across the river. But Vic was my school. After completing grade ten, my life was to be altered forever. I lied, cheated, and even forged my address, just to stay there. I faced the most insurmountable obstacle - Central Office. But I won. Someone in that hallowed office had played around with boundaries in the fall of 1945 and included me as part of the Garneau contingent. I tearfully bid adieu to my friend, Chris Varvis after my first day and trudged off to Garneau. What a disaster!
To be honest, Garneau High was not that bad. But, can you believe this - they didn't have a drama class (my first love), nor did they stage a year play! Absolutely shocking. I lasted exactly one day at the school. I returned the next day to Vic, filled out a registration form in which I forged my new address - Chris Varvis' home on 97th street and attended my first class. It wasn't long before Roma Downey, the school secretary called me out from a class. The principal, C.O. Hicks, invited me into his office and interrogated me. Perhaps he was touched by my audacity and loyalty to the school, or perhaps he was struck by my candor. In any event, I was permitted to stay after I gave my rationale - including my practically living at the Varvis residence on a day- to -day basis where Chris and I tackled our homework together. Let me be frank - my reasons were closely tied to that wonderful staff - the ghosts of Old Vic.
That staff was simply awesome. We had Mr. Shortliffe for math, Miss Hegler (Helene) for drama, Eva O. Howard for English, Dr. Willis also for math, Mr. Mcfarland for chemistry, Miss Teskey and Miss Driscoll for French and Mary (C.C.F) Crawford for Social Studies. In those days, few of us knew our teachers' first names. You will probably say that it was the students who made up the school - but where would the students be if it were not the teachers who kept the school together? Isn't this still the case for most schools?
Mr. Shortliffe was perhaps the first teacher to make an impression on me on my very first day. After Chris and I signed the class roster, we sat nervously in our seats waiting for the great one to expound on his life philosophy. He reviewed the roster, looked around the class then gave me a studious gaze. "Is your name Spillios?" he barked. " Yes", I tremously responded. "Are you any relation to your brother?" he barked again. With that we all breathed a sigh of nervous relief, that is all except yours truly. Mr. Shortliffe believed that fear was a strong component in the acquisition of knowledge. And what knowledge it was! The name of the course was math but Mr. Shortliffe also covered history, international events, literature and language as an integral part of his lessons or rather lectures - because that was exactly what they were.
Mary Crawford was also unique in her teaching style. I don't believe that she had a real interest in history but current events were another matter. She excelled in focusing on issues and often brought a bit of C.C.F. propaganda into her classes. On one occasion, she called on me to help distribute some C.C.F. literature to voters entering the polls. Her advice to me, which I followed to the letter, was to hand a bill to a voter with the comment, "Vote anyway you want, but vote C.C.F." You won't believe the responses, which I received on that one.
Miss Howard may have been a master at teaching literature but there was one thing she couldn't hide - she didn't really care for Shakespeare. Her niche lay in modern theatre and in that she ruled supreme.
As for Miss Hegler, she was a compassionate teacher who offered both dramatic and personal guidance to her students. We often congregated in her home for tea. One of my close friends boarded with her for a time due to problems at home. There are not many teachers who would go that far to help their students.
I am indebted to Miss Hegler for one achievement -in grade ten she made me a star in "The Vic Varieties". I opened the show with a catch-up rendition of "Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby?" and later moved to join the late M.P. Steve Paproski and Chris as the unbilled " Three Undernourished Boys of Vic High". Joe Shoctor, a recent graduate of the school wrote a song, which we all embraced, dedicated to the school - "Where The Red and Black Fly". Some of us tried to top the great Shoctor with our own lyrics dedicated to Vic. They went something like this:
Alcohol, alcohol, first we stagger then we fallIn the cellars of old VHSFor we'll have one moreMr. Shortliffe's at the doorIn the cellars of old VHS.
There was one rehearsal I remember in particular for the 1945 Year Play - a dress rehearsal which lasted until 2:00 a.m. Miss Hegler was determined to get perfection (bless her heart). Needless to say, parents were ringing the phones incessantly during that evening, wondering what had happened to their precious ones.
We were rehearsing "The Willow and I" - a terrible play in retrospect. It was probably the closest I shall ever get to fame. I played the alcoholic father of Olga Laruska, later the famous Hollywood actress, Diane Foster, who retired from show business early. I often wonder what happened to her. At one point in the play, Olga was to retrieve a gun from a drawer and struggle with I can't quite remember whom. She searched through the drawer, then turned desperately to Miss Hegler in the tenth row of the auditorium and almost pleading blurted out, "Miss Hegler, where is the gun?" Miss Hegler made certain that each one of us returned home safely that night- I naturally accompanied Chris to his house. Aside from my newfound success, I became quite ill after the final performance of the play, having sipped cold tea in place of alcohol for three nights. I suspect that it was never replenished each night by our novice properties manager.
Dr. Willis considered himself the world's keeper of good jokes. You were forced to laugh whether you found them amusing or not. If you didn't (the brave ones sometimes snickered), he would bodily pick you up by your pants and lead you ever so gently to the door.
Vic's teachers were unique characters. Although I became a teacher later, I never encountered teachers, which could meet their match. Many of us commented at the time, that each and every one of them was brilliant and belonged in a university setting. But they knew better - they would never have been able to deliver knowledge in their inimitable style if they had. And we would have all been losers in the long run. I read in this week's papers that Vic was receiving provincial funding for a much-needed upgrade. But that school could never be returned to its former magical state - to the school that I remember. If it did, the ghosts just might return and inspire today's students, as we were inspired. Maybe, just maybe this might happen and if it did, we would all be the richer for it.