Woodchester Villa Was A Spectacular Venue For Many Events

WOODCHESTER VILLA WAS A SPECTACULAR VENUE FOR MANY EVENTS

Out on our weekly antique hunt, one pleasant Saturday morning, I found a large piece of local art, awkwardly positioned against a table of masking tape-priced vases, jars, pottery and general bric-a-brac. It had been painted by an artist acquaintance of mine. I won’t include his name because no artist wants to hear or read about their art work showing up at flea markets. This particular sale was an institutional event, selling off some art donations, to put funds raised back into a recreation fund for residents.

The large framed watercolor was more than just a tad familiar. I called Suzanne over and asked if she could identify the scene depicted. She actually took less time to identify the subject, than it had taken me on my first, second and third return-glances. “It’s a Strawberry Social at Woodchester.” Of course it was, and for old times’s sake, we decided it would have to come home with us. When we look at it, to this day, we can catch the scent of cake and berries, hear the social chatter of hundreds of guests and helpers, feel the excitement of another successful event on the museum hillside, and judge by the contented looks on the faces of patrons, that these same folks would be back for many more events after this. And we can look at this painting, and feel exhausted, as if we have just then finished the hours upon hours of preparation and service to the typically large crowd.

I love the painting but it does serve as a reminder just how hard it was to earn this level of appreciation from citizens.....the folks we needed at Woodchester regularly, to make the museum viable. But it was the unending work that made volunteering at the museum

more like a job than a for-fun, helpful recreation. As lovely as the events were, and profitable, there’s no one who worked on-site as a volunteer helper, back in the 1980's particularly, who wouldn’t feel exactly the same emotions staring up at this thought-provoking work of art. A spirited interpretation of good times but having that aura of imposition, that was so exhausting for the cause of local history. It’s calming at first then quite unsettling, and it’s as if, at any time, Carol Scholey, the master of the really big events at Woodchester, is going to come whipping around the corner, screaming for me to come back to the kitchen for yet another load of something or other. Suzanne winces at the thought because Carol was a taskmaster, and to her, there was no shortcut ever, no slacking-off, and absolutely no job too tough to meet, hand to hand, shoulder to the grindstone. She was a hard worker, unflinching, stalwart but we were just not up to her speed. No one was. So she’d do the work of four. But eventually, even Carol started to tire of the fundraising demands of the little museum on the hill.

Thinking about Woodchester over the past week or so, I have recalled many highlights and a few lowlights. One of my fondest recollections, was when the Board of Directors, took advantage of an offer from Gravenhurst’s Muskoka Festival, to bring a “theatre in the round,” event to the museum lawn. I think it was entitled “Paper Wheat,” and was held a few times that summer season, each time enjoyed by large crowds. With the historic theme of the play, and the interaction with the close-by audience, and the sundry other sounds of train horns, a waterfall, infants crying, folks laughing, and the sun’s diamond sparkle in the overhead canopy of leaves, this was a perfect venue for such open air events. It wasn’t just the museum we were benefitting from, it was the amazing property with its picturesque view of the river. What we worried could be an attendance disaster, became one of the best attended events other than the annual socials. The only other event to shatter expectations, is when we held a Christmas in July event, in the late 1980's, and had the lawn full of chairs, lawn chairs and picnic blankets, to hear the large provincial Salvation Army Band. It was fabulous.

The downside of our success, for this event, was that Suzanne and I had both been sick for most of that Christmas in July week and it wasn’t until the Sunday afternoon concert, that things got worse. We also had to look after both our wee lads at the same time. They were fine and full of that vim and vinegar that makes parenting of toddlers so special. We had to get to Woodchester about two hours before the event to set out the chairs, get the museum up and running, make-up lemonade for hundreds, line up rows of drinking glasses, and cut the large cake into small portions. Suzanne set up the front porch with glasses for the lemonade, and we pulled up a table for the cake and cookies. I worked in the downstairs kitchen, making large quantities of lemonade, half asleep, while Andrew played with his dinky toys on the conference room table. When I got up stairs, Suzanne, with a pounding headache, had fallen asleep in the porch rocker, with Robert contenting himself with two cookies pulled off the tray. It was like that for the rest of the day. Trying to rest-up here and there, without looking too obvious about slacking-off. I woke up once, sitting in a chair up by the fountain (now re-situated to Memorial Park), and it wasn’t until Andrew pinched my nose, to get my attention, that I awoke with a start....wondering where I was......and how the hell these people had got into my yard. It was an easy mistake to make because we spent so much time at Woodchester that it did seem, at times, like a second home. We had staff on for the day but not enough volunteers to free us up. There was no way we could have stayed home or the large event, that gave us a near record attendance, would have had to be cancelled. It wasn’t an option that sunny Sunday in July. The museum needed the money.

I remember getting home later that afternoon, covered in cake residue and sick of anything that smelled like lemon, and both of us hitting the sofa at about the same time. We rested comfortably for several moments, until the calls came from the museum,,,,,,, staff facing some conundrum or other......like who got the leftover cake and lemonade. That was a no brainer. “Take as much as you want.....we insist.”

It always took about three to four days before we could even consider a recently held event, no matter how well attended, or profitable, a success in our own honest appraisal. We were harsh critics of our own work. But we also recognized that in order to get to that stage of accomplishment, where every event was done to perfection, would take many more volunteers than we could muster at that point in the museum’s own history. While we could get a mob up that hillside for a special event, which took every resource to operate, the meat and potatoes, day to day fare, left us without the confidence we could drop or decrease the more labor intensive fundraising events. This realization, more than anything else, was the “bitter sweet” side, we see in this painting of the Strawberry Social. We couldn’t make money on admissions alone without major events being run on the property. With large-scale events we needed at least ten volunteers plus staff working in the two museum buildings. When a director suggested to us, “well, then close the museum when you have these events.....to free-up staff to help,” it was the contradiction of operation that became the obstacle we couldn’t bypass. The whole purpose behind the special events, was to bring people up to an “open” museum, as an association-themed-outing, to put strawberries, cake and history together. It would serve no long term advantage to have folks not be able to attend the museum at the same time. But it was a clear reminder just what the future of museum operation, and perpetual funding shortfall meant to all volunteers left standing.

The painting serves as a poignant reminder, just how much of all our lives, in those years, was dedicated to making Woodchester Villa work.......as it should have.....as we believed it could. So it is with some disappointment that I look at this charming painting and still ponder....what if?