Adrienne Clarkson: On Feminism, Modernity, and Debauchery

“It was then that we became aware a girl had gotten pregnant.”

Adrienne Clarkson stares intently at us through her :brightly-coloured spectacles, the pale January light of the room shining off her lenses. Canada’s former Governor General is a warm and welcoming presence, with a staccato laugh both contagious and effervescent. At the mention of this memory, however, her face turns grave.

The year was 1960 and Adrienne - then surnamed Poy - had been elected Head of St. Hilda’s College.

“I have so many happy memories at Trinity. Too many to choose from, you could say. And yet I always knew that this particular memory would nestle itself a place amongst the worst.”

Somberly, she continues. “We used to have an dreadful principal. She was from England. Miss Darroch was her name. She had two Yorkshire terriers and the Head of College would have to have breakfast alone with her once a week to talk about situations.”

“As Head of College, I was in charge of peer discipline. I’d reprimand people who had lost their keys, gone out too late, that sort of thing. Usually, this was done in a formal way with a note left under their door and then speaking to them. And if I felt like it wasn’t getting anywhere, I’d pass it on to Miss Darroch. I mean, she really should have been doing all of this, but I was told it was my responsibility.”

“Anyway, twice in my year as Head, it became evident that a girl had gotten pregnant. It was brought to my attention and so I went to Miss Darroch and I said ‘Betsy Smith (not her real name) is pregnant.’ And Miss Darroch said, ‘Well, you must tell her she must leave the College by this weekend.’”

Silence fills the room.

“This is a story that shows you the moraes of the time.”

***

Only a few minutes earlier, the conversation had been very different. Clarkson recounts some of the experiences that punctuated her undergraduate experience with the most happiness. Her thoughts immediately turn to the Conversat Ball.

“Where to begin with Conversat? It was the big dance, of course. It was one that we looked forward to all year. We had the Sophomore Juniors Seniors (SJS) Dance, where the girls invited the boys, and then Conversat, where boys invited girls. We always looked forward to it.”

Smirking, she continues, “We would get up to all sorts of mischief. Those of us who lived in residence would go up to the Rosedale Golf Club and toboggan in the darkness as a celebration before Conversat. The big drink at the time was Purple Jesus – Welch’s grape juice and pure rubbing alcohol. This was usually served in people’s rooms. We really went all out. We had dinners in our rooms. All the rooms were open. We would also drink Bright’s Champagne which is the most awful plonk, and would have the worst headaches in the morning.”

Clarkson laughs. “Then, of course, there would be the stories afterwards. There was one girl – I won’t give you her name but suffice it to say she was the descendant of a very important intellectual family – who was a really hilarious person. She was found flaked out in the Front Hall of St. Hilda’s in front of Cartwright. When we all came back at four in the morning, she was lying there and had muddy footprints up her dress. We never took a picture of it, but we’ve never forgotten that story. We had to wake her and take her up to her room. So I don’t know if Trinity is as debauched now as it was then but you could definitely say we had fun.”

“It was a different time then, no doubt. The Trinity alumni that graduated in 1960 got together at one of our reunions to talk about what we thought had most changed about how we had lived our lives. And we agreed almost immediately that the change in society that had been the hugest since we graduated was not computers or anything like that, it was the fact that we now had the pill. It fundamentally changed how women experienced their sexuality.”

Clarkson continues, “And so while I’ve highlighted that the debauchery was by no means limited from a drinking point of view, it certainly was from a sexual standpoint at the time. Girls all used to get engaged in their 2nd or 3rd year and everyone got married after their graduation. Many would only ever have one sexual partner. My marriage at 22 or 23 was considered late in that sense. The pill revolutionized what we could do with our bodies.”

***

Recounting the realities of sex and relationships of the time, Clarkson’s eyes harden. “All the women who wanted to do things with their lives understood that one simple truth: they had sexual constrictions. If you became pregnant, your life was over. O-ver. And you would never be able to do anything or get anywhere. And that narrowed your choices in life. And that made you cautious.”

She continues, “in many ways it focused you, I suppose. In my case, it kept all of my relationships with boys at a very distant level. I never went out with anyone seriously. My philosophy was that I would go out with anyone who asked who was fun and intelligent and who offered to buy me a meal. I loved going out with people, but that was as far as it would go. People would ask if I would get coffee with them and that would count as a date. And we would go and we would talk for two hours intensely and would walk around Philosopher’s Walk. I went out with lots of people but I didn’t really want to focus on anybody. I didn’t want anything to be serious at all. Other people, they would go out with one person in their first year and by the end of 4th year they’d be engaged and married. That was never my style.”

Slyly, she jabs, “I started to count once just to see how many I had gone out with and I probably would say I got up to 120 odd people when I was in university. And I enjoyed it!”

Unperturbed at the room’s incredulity, Clarkson adds, “yes, yes, you can definitely publish that.”

***

“One of the things that radicalized me as a feminist – before it was even widely known as such a thing – was the year of 1959.” Clarkson now discusses her extracurricular experiences as an undergraduate at Trinity.

“John F. Kennedy, who was then a Senator eyeing the presidency, was invited by the Hart House Debate Society to debate William F. Buckley. This is a famous story. Women, at the time, were not allowed to be in attendance because Hart House was still segregated. And so that was our first demonstration. We wanted to hear this debate and demonstrated in front of Convocation Hall until we would be allowed to.”

Wryly, Clarkson continues. “It didn’t take very long. Soon we were in and I distinctly remember JFK – who I didn’t think was a very strong debater – as something completely new and different. He had looks and he had charm. And so while I thought Buckley – whose political points of view were anathema to me – actually won the debate on points, it was clear to see how the world’s political value system was changing at the time.”

“I loved debating. I was part of the St. Hilda’s College Debating Society. And I know Bill would agree with me in saying it was a great part of our lives.”

Clarkson is referring to Bill Graham, Canada’s former Minister of Foreign Affairs, Trinity’s current Chancellor, and a lifelong friend.

“I first met Bill at the tea the women of St. Hilda’s would hold for the incoming class. I was a year ahead of Bill and I can still see him standing there. He was hilarious and had a wonderful sense of humour. And of course he’s very, very smart and loved history. I remember we had a wonderful conversation that day and became fast friends right then and there.”

Speaking about the formative influence of her parents on her and Bill, Clarkson remarks on their trajectories. “Our parents led an exciting life to say the least. My dad would travel a lot, and Bill’s parents would go to India for tiger shooting. And so, in many ways, it is wonderful when you grow older to have friends who knew your parents. It’s hard to describe. It becomes something you really treasure and it is a terribly valuable thing. That is one of the ties that Trinity has. The friends you make here know where you’re coming from. The friends you make at Trinity, you value a lot. I have one Trinity friend that I see every summer up at Georgian Bay, and it dawned on us one day that he had been one of the people to know me the longest in my entire life.”

“Bill asked me recently if I thought we could have gotten into Trinity today given how high the marks have become. And I always tell him it is hard to know. It certainly would have been more difficult. When we were students at Trinity, it was a completely different time.”

“Bill certainly had a lot of extracurricular pursuits occupying his time. Amongst other activities, he was the Scribe of Episkopon at Trinity College. We had the separate female branch of Episkopon at St. Hilda’s, and our Scribe would say to us, for God’s sake get your notes in because I have to do something this Friday night, and so we’d get our scurrilous little notes in and not think much of it all. But it was important to Bill, surely. And we would always hear how rough it was for the men, but they were sworn to secrecy so we didn’t know much else.”

Clarkson sighs. “In many ways, Episkopon was done within a context of a secluded group of people who were rarely diverse. When I was at St. Hilda’s, I was the only Chinese person there. As I said, we were a very uniform group of people. There weren’t any Jews at Trinity nor were there any Muslims. Even in the case of students from the West Indies or Africa, many would have gone to Anglican schools and so their humour was largely British. Episkopon and its kind of satire was in the nutsy British tradition. And so when Trinity became a much more diverse place and featured people from many different backgrounds and understanding of selfhood, I think Episkopon became slightly anachronistic and it became difficult to carry it on. And while I think the administration overreacted in many ways, I do think it would be difficult to carry on with Episkopon in a society like ours. The organization didn’t follow suite with modernity, and to some extent became a remnant of a different Trinity.”

***

“In many ways, that has been the secret of my life.”

Clarkson laughs. “Never do anything you aren’t enjoying. My best friends at Trinity have always embodied this belief. Bill has always done what he enjoys. George Butterfield who was in Bill’s year and is a very close friend of ours started Butterfield and Robinson, the bicycling tours of the world company with his wife Martha. They have locations all over the world and they both get to truly enjoy what they do.”

“My rule in life is, make sure you do what you like, and make sure you are paid as much as anyone else who can do it. As a result of this philosophy, I’ve never gone to another job because they were going to pay me more to do it. For example, I always considered myself a CBC person and a public broadcasting person. And that is something that I honoured.”

“I have been asked to do a lot of different things in my life. Many, many, different things. And I always ask myself, ‘can I do this job better than anyone else?’ If yes, then I do it. If not, then I pass. For instance, I was asked to be a Senator a few years before I became Governor General. And I said no. I knew instantly. It would have meant me having to give up all sorts of things that I liked and cared about due to conflict of interest, that was something I could not countenance.”

“Three quarters of Trinity’s graduates from the time still live in Ontario. The remainder are largely women who married and were taken away, while most of the men went to law firms or stock brokerage houses and essentially lived the life of the Toronto elite. And so, in many ways, I was fortunate and had an exceptionally privileged career. Not all were so lucky.”

“But I guess that was the time we lived in.” Fierce and unapologetic, Clarkson shrugs.

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