Keep in touch, p.7
Keep in Touch, page 7
The parking lot of the Kofflers’ Four Seasons Hotel on Jarvis Street, then an unassuming motor hotel, was commandeered as the location for the celebration. Drumming up artists was next on David’s to-do list. No problems there. Word of mouth alone brought interest from the artistic community. While amateurs topped the list, a number of established artists, including Gordon Rayner, Shizuye Takashima, Jack Reppen, Gerry McAdam, and Gerald Gladstone signed on to take part. David later glorified the successes of Toronto’s first Outdoor Art Fair, beyond money changing hands: “Discussions on art ran through the days and into the nights; artists met each other; people asked questions and artists provided their insights and rationales; discoveries of new artists were made.”20
Energized by the success of his first large-scale art venture, the recent university graduate could see future opportunities. When Jarvis again asked for his assistance in organizing the 1961 Canadian Conference of the Arts (CCA), David Silcox was eager. The CCA, founded in December of 1945, had developed as an independent non-profit organization whose concerns extended to all areas of arts activity, including film, theatre, music, dance, literature, painting, sculpture, design, graphics, crafts, museums, and art education. Jarvis, now operating out of Toronto, envisioned the 1961 CCA “going beyond the bounds of policy.” He touted it as “the first conference of its kind to be held anywhere in the western world that embraced all of the arts — from painting and sculpture, theatre and music, to landscape architecture and creative leather-work — and every event took place under the one roof.”21
While Jarvis would be the marquee name behind the CCA hoopla, to be held over three days at Toronto’s O’Keefe Centre, he’d need a bagman to pull it all together. Duly impressed with David Silcox’s savoir faire in managing the Toronto Outdoor Art Fair, Jarvis once again turned his sights that way, and once again, David was eager for the challenge.
In a later-in-life oral history project conducted by Archives Canada, David was amused when he remembered an incident during the event that involved former Quebec politician René Lévesque. “Lévesque had been invited to present at the CCA, but when he didn’t show up for his address, I was sent to look for him. Turns out he had gotten himself locked in a bathroom on site.”22 Such mishaps were few, and the 1961 CCA was an unqualified success, with kudos for both Alan Jarvis and his second-in-command, David Silcox.
Calling to mind the role that David played in the 1961 CCA, Cultural Administrator and former Assistant Director of the Ontario Arts Council D. Paul Schaefer reflected in a 2024 conversation: “I was fascinated by the fact that he had played a major role in organizing the 1961 Conference.… I have often thought over the years that this was an ideal opportunity for David, since there were no courses or programs in arts administration at the time and he was in the ideal position here to begin his career.”23
Neither did young Silcox’s achievements go unrecognized by the press. In her December 30, 1961, column “One Vote for Silcox as Art Man of the Year,” Globe and Mail arts columnist Pearl McCarthy lauded the Hart House Undergraduate Secretary as achieving “what neither larger nor smaller galleries can do in individual exhibitions.” She then itemized the accomplishments of the “wonder boy”: “Organizing the brilliant exhibit of sculpture indoors in the [Hart House] Quadrangle … writing art commentary for The Varsity newspaper … assisting Alan Jarvis with the Conference of the Arts … and in charge of the Toronto Outdoor Art Fair.” McCarthy gushed that there was there was no more worthy candidate than the twenty-four-year-old David Silcox for the title of “Toronto’s Art Man of the Year.” The culture maven then prophetically added, “He may be shrewd enough to see that if artists and writers are to be free, and not puppets of the state or society, their survival will depend on the buying by persons of modest means but independence of mind.”24
The future looked more than sunny for David Silcox. But in what direction was he heading?
Part Four Of Adventure
(1962–1964)
Chapter Twenty-One “Art Seems a Fine Way …”
At what point of time, in the life of young David Phillips Silcox, B.A., member of the graduating class of 1959, Victoria College, University of Toronto, did he make the decision that a career in arts administration would be his life’s direction?
After his June 1959 graduation with a three-year degree in English literature, he had immediately enrolled in additional classes to “up” his degree to an honours designation. The literature of the seventeenth century, particularly English essayist Samuel Johnson, intrigued him. But where would that specialization lead him in the coming years? Teaching? It held little appeal. Maybe politics? Never averse to taking a public stance, the cocky Mr. Silcox had once been removed from discussion at a Victoria College debate by appearing “half-dressed” for a crowd of peers. The Varsity reported the lurid details: “The House defeated the resolution ‘An Affluent Society is a Decadent Society’ after an hour of heated discussion from the floor, including the expulsion of half-dressed David Silcox (SGS) for not being in keeping with the dignity of the House,” in the words of the Speaker, J.W. Daly.1
Gifted with a pen or typewriter, David had a talent for wordsmithing that had earned the respect of budding literary star Margaret Atwood, with whom he had co-produced the annual campus literary magazine, Acta Victoriana. The visual arts field intrigued him most particularly. A future in arts management perhaps? After a year rubbing shoulders with artists, promoters, gallery owners, and bureaucrats from his aerie at Hart House, that direction looked fine. The only fly in the soup? In David’s four years of undergraduate studies, he had never taken a course on, let alone earned a credit in, art theory or history.
Small roadblock for this ambitious youngster. Globe columnist Pearl McCarthy was the first to spill the beans in her “Man of the Year” article. “Toronto is to lose David Silcox for about three years, but at the end of that time, he hopes to return to Canada. He is going abroad next spring to start a fairly long period of senior studies in the history of art.”2 The luminous Courtauld Institute of Art in London, England, was his destination.
A Brief History of the Courtauld
In 1926, British aristocrat Samuel Courtauld acquired the elegant London town house manor known as Home House. Constructed in 1773 in the Neoclassical architectural style, Home House had been originally conceived as a series of elegant reception rooms. Among them, a gracious music room, several drawing rooms, the “parade room,” as well as the curious Etruscan State Bedroom — its walls adorned with pagan imagery. Yet it was the imperial staircase, rising circularly from the ground to a glass dome, which was revered as one of the greatest tours de force of European architecture. In this setting, Samuel Courtauld, a prodigious art collector, would house his massive art collection, including works by Impressionist masters Monet, Cézanne, and Degas.
Over the coming years, Courtauld’s vision for Home House as a mere storage facility evolved. With two like-minded visionaries, Sir Robert Witt and Arthur Lee, Viscount of Fareham, Courtauld moved to establish a learning institute. It would provide training for individuals intending to enter various branches of art. With the appointment in 1947 of Sir Anthony Blunt as the Courtauld’s Director, the institution’s reputation as one of the world’s most esteemed training grounds for art professionals soared. Under Blunt, Courtauld was committed to producing the finest art historians of the next generation.
Blunt’s curriculum was tailored directly to the student. He proposed that those entering his house of art would decide themselves on their specific program of research. Whether studying in the diploma or graduate programs, candidates would choose their own topics of study — be it the Renaissance, the seventeenth century, or Post-Impressionism. Nor would applicants need to have previous qualifications in art history to be accepted. Blunt himself, in his student days, had won a scholarship in mathematics to Trinity College, Cambridge, and he gave successful applicants from various disciplines the opportunity to apply their existing skills to the study of art history.
In the 1960s, with the addition of revered art historian Sir Alan Bowness to the Courtauld faculty, another shift occurred. While earlier periods of art — the Renaissance and the eighteen and nineteenth centuries — would continue to attract students, the Courtauld’s guiding star was now the twentieth century.3
The Courtauld’s exquisite reputation had surely intrigued David Silcox as an upwardly mobile twentysomething who dabbled in the peripheries of the art world. Equally, boyhood recollections of “so many smart people” encountered during his Coronation adventure surely made the choice to seek further education in England appealing. Correspondence indicates that by the late fall of 1960, David, still at his post as Hart House Undergraduate Secretary, had made his application to Courtauld.4 His application included all manner of supporting documents: his undergraduate university courses, his (modest) grades, and his impressive list of extracurricular activities. While he had no University of Toronto scholarship to pay his Courtauld tuition, he was offered a Canada Council Visual Arts Scholarship of $2,697 for the 1961–62 granting period.5
Seeking to add further weight to his application, David had turned to several distinguished Canadians for references. One, surely a plum, was submitted by the luminous Victoria College Chancellor, Northrop Frye. But words of support from Canadian patrons of the arts would, he felt, also sweeten his application. He turned to influential Toronto art patrons Sam and Ayala Zacks for this. During his Hart House days, David had come into the couple’s inner circle as an outcome of their generous material and financial support to Hart House. He felt their acknowledgement would be consequential for his Courtauld application. In a letter to Sam Zacks dated January 26, 1962, now held in the archives of the Art Gallery of Ontario, David asks for a reference in securing his admission: “Sir Anthony Blunt has enough references about my academic work to come to a decision about that end of things. Mr. Bickersteth, Professor Childs and Northrup Frye have written to him about that.… But perhaps the knowledge he lacks at the moment is about my achievements to date in the field of Canadian contemporary art …”6
David’s letter closes with a palpable sense of urgency: “One thing that seems to be of importance is that I get over to Europe as soon as possible. Obviously I can do a lot of work from slides and reproductions right here in Toronto, but it seems that I have got well past the stage where this type of study would be best for me. I think you agree that a change of atmosphere would be best and certainly stimulating. I must get to Europe to see originals.” David ends with the information that he “hopes to be enrolled in study of European art of the 17th century.”7
Delighted to comply with his young friend’s request, Sam Zacks’s letter of reference, dated March 20, 1962, to Sir Anthony Blunt speaks to David’s capabilities: “A worthy candidate … a very serious and responsible young man … always tactful and level-headed … has shown great talent in the arrangements of exhibitions.” Zacks also plays a “needy colonial” card in his plea: “There is a great shortage of talented people with training in the arts and I feel that David could occupy an important role here.”8
The Canadian applicant failed to impress the Courtauld powers that be. A letter dated May 3, 1962, from Sir Anthony Blunt to Sam Zacks addresses the Silcox application: “Thank you very much for your letter of March 20. I am afraid that, as you will probably now have heard, we have been unable to find a place for David Silcox. The difficulty is that we are now enormously oversubscribed and already have a heavy wait-list who we really should take on and who really have good qualifications. I wonder if he would like to come and do research after he is finished his degree [Master of Arts] in Toronto. That would be quite easy to arrange.”9
No doubt highly disappointed in this unequivocal rejection by the Courtauld, David Silcox, late of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan; Bourlamaque Mines, Quebec; the Burwash Industrial Farm, Ontario; and Port Credit, Ontario, did what, surely, those intimates who knew him well expected. As apple blossoms and spring crocuses reminded Canadians that there was a world beyond ice and snow, David Silcox made plans to say adieu to Hart House and head to Europe and adventure. To art galleries and shops, museums, castles, and kings. Maybe he’d find his way to the Courtauld after all; try a bit of charm, find a way past rejection. A letter of May 23, 1962, from Sam Zacks to David takes the high road: “I am happy to know that you will spend two years in Europe in further pursuit of the knowledge you require for your chosen profession.”10
Finalizing plans for his departure in late June of 1962 — a few clothes, books, enough cash to purchase a scooter on arrival, and a sleeping bag, the young man prepared for adventure. Late in life “scribblings” reveal a farewell dinner held for him at Toronto’s Lord Simcoe Hotel. The guest list of sixteen is unknown, save for the presence of his immediate family, including his parents, Phil and Marjorie, and his brother Louis. Yet a memory penned three decades after the soiree sheds light on the ambient tone: “Parents less than impressed that wine was included in the dinner menu!”11 And Louis’s memory of the fete? “Oh, I thought it was about my parents’ anniversary.”12
Chapter Twenty-Two “Maybe Because He Was Cute”
Less than a decade after David’s first crossing of the Atlantic to represent his country at Queen Elizabeth’s coronation, he was on the high seas again. Travelling with him was his friend and classmate from Victoria College, Dudley Young. Young planned to begin Ph.D. studies at Cambridge while David embarked on his Grand Tour. In a decision lamented by this biographer, David kept no diary during his travels. Decades later, brief one-word “scribblings” by a now-elderly man and scattered verbal reporting by relatives do little to evoke the details of his youthful adventure. Fragments of the puzzle place David first in Paris, where he took possession of a second-hand motor scooter. Any delight in his acquired mobility was immediately dashed, as shown by two words: “Scooter impounded.” In 2023, David’s wife, Linda Intaschi, shed light on her spouse’s “crime”: “I can’t remember why the scooter was impounded, but he had to pay a fine and had to wait for money to be wired to him. He was very cross when he went to the local gendarmerie with cash to retrieve the scooter and he slapped his money on the desk. The gendarme reportedly said to him, ‘Monsieur, ici on dit bonjour d’abord,’ to scold him for his bad manners. David said that the power of politeness always stuck with him afterwards.”13
David’s own reminiscence of “a gendarme poking me in the arm, in the early morning in the Parc du Vent Gallant” leaves no doubt as to the young man’s sleeping accommodations in the City of Light. After the assault and surely eager to leave the unfriendly city, the adventurer turned his eyes southeast, to the city of Cannes. “Sick” remains his only memory of that sojourn; a reference, perhaps, to meals of “pate/bread/wine/croissant,” which may shed light on his indisposition.14
References to the exotic charms of Spain — “to witness the running of the bulls” in Pamplona and “reading in Costa Brava” — show improved fortunes for the Canadian, as June passed vaguely into July of 1962. Memories turn scant as David travelled northeast into Germany. Language difficulties may explain the void. In a later letter to Sam Zacks, David confesses his lack of comfort in the German language: “It’s difficult and much less interesting than either of the two other languages” (i.e., French and Italian).15 Turning his itinerary to the town of Eisenach, ninety-three miles (150 kilometres) north of Frankfurt, David eagerly anticipated visiting the historic Wartburg Castle, the place of exile for theologian Martin Luther. The stark notation “Wartburg — Courtauld denied” breaks into the scant travelogue. It appears that having been initially rejected by the powers that be at the Courtauld Institute of Art before he left Canada, young Silcox had made a second try for admission.
While details are few as to the source of the bad news that he received in Eisenach (a letter or telegram no doubt having been rerouted from his parents’ residence in Lorne Park), there is no doubt that David’s second appeal for admission had again been denied. Weighing the choice of continuing the Grand Tour and then returning home to further education or employment — or pleading his case at the Courtauld in person — David chose the latter. He turned his direction north to Hamburg, then across the Channel to London, England. Within days, the Canadian presented himself at the elegant office of Sir Anthony Blunt.
Ah! To have been an errant housefly on the great man’s wall! No details of the meeting between the dusty, travel-worn, aspiring art student and the eminent Director of the Courtauld Institute remain. Yet a letter dated September 18, 1962, from David Silcox to Sam and Ayala Zacks, sheds some light on the gambit: “I will be going to Courtauld. I went to see Sir Anthony Blunt when I got to London, and things were settled in a matter of minutes.”16
In 2023, Linda Intaschi speculated on the circumstances of the startling change of direction for her future spouse: “It could be that Anthony Blunt thought that David was ‘cute’ (that might have been enough); or Blunt was impressed by David’s passion for the field, or both.”17 Circumstances notwithstanding, by September 23, 1962, David was settled (he gave his return address as “13 Addison Gardens, London, W14”) and enrolled in the diploma program at the Courtauld Institute.
