Mary Arnold

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils. William Worsdworth – I Wondered Lonely As a Cloud

Today I found out that my long-time friend Mary Arnold died last Monday. We all called her Little Mary as she was no taller than 5ft.

I first met her around 1978 at the No 5 Orange Street club. This was what we used to either call a stripper bar or an exotic dancer bar. We did not use that deprecative term peeler. We did not know at the time that in the 19^th century, the first organized police organization had been started by Sir Robert Peel in 1829 in England. We (or at least this guy) did not connect the lovely painting at the Cecil Hotel that featured London Bobbies. They were called peelers.

Mary Arnold, second from left

In this 21^st century, the concept of pornography has hit social media and their often strict “community standards” have all but disappeared. I am tired of seeing red carpet shows where clothing is at a minimum and rear end twirling is a must. Nipples and Brazilians have taken over.

The above is but my explanation that the ecdysiast (a nice little known word that defines peelers) boom that happened in the late 70s  in Vancouver. It started when club owner Gary Taylor went to the BC Supreme Court and won, so that his joint, The Castle Pub could serve men hamburgers and beer for lunch, while they watched lovely women take off their clothes.

As an amateur fan of modern dance and ballet I can attest that those Vancouver dancers knew how to dance. They had some sort of inner energy that gave them pride in what they did. The clubs they worked in were spotless. I drank lots of soda water.

These exotic dancers, who were all my friends, were patient when this bumbling photographer tried to take their photographs. In the end my reputation was such that I was invited to take photographs in the previously verboten dressing rooms. I can attest that I am a better photographer today thanks to these women.

With all that preliminary info out of the way, I can now go to the task at hand, which is to tell you what a lovely woman (girl, too!) Mary Arnold was. While their was competition between dancers they all joined and agreed that Little Mary was gem. What were her talents?

At 5ft she had a perfectly proportioned body. Everything was just right. What nobody was ever able to explain is that she could fill BC Place with her voice without a sound system.

Little Mary could drink anybody under the table. She had a fondness for Grand Marnier. Perhaps it is that fondness, that through the years, we all thought she was doomed to die soon. She did this at age 67 in her sleep.

Little Mary pioneered the concept of wearing leg warmers when she began her act. In 1979, ahead of everybody else, she danced to  music of Vancouver bands, especially the punk ones. I was completely her audience slave when she would dance to my favourite Police song, Message in a Bottle.

After she stopped dancing, I did not know too much about her family life. She had two brothers who were short, too, who were jockeys at Exhibition Park. I would visit with her for lunch at her favourite restaurant, La Bodega on Main Street.

There was a talent she had that few know she had. She was a formidable seamstress. The paradox is that this small breasted woman designed outfits for the fantastic modern dancer, Corey Caulfield who was plagued with large breasts. With Arnold’s outfits everything stayed in their place. Not too long ago she came to my house for a portrait (my Rosemary adored her) so that she could get a city license to do her clothing business. It was not to be.

Health problems took over her life and in the end we all knew that her end was inevitable.

All I can say is that I will never forget that little woman coming down the stairs to the stage at the Number 5 Orange, with Frank Sinatra singing. The little woman had big style. 

My last photograph of Mary Arnold 8 years ago

Many years as part of the Outreach Program of Emily Carr I went to teach for a weekend at a place that was new to me called Kyuquot. When I arrived at my hotel the front desk clerk desk told me,"Sir a friend of yours has given me this number. You are to call her." The woman who answered was Mary Arnold. She told me that both of us were going to a Halloween Party (it was February). When she arrived to the hotel she had lots of makeup. I asked her what she was dressed as. Her answer wast total Little Mary, "I am a Ukrainian slut." 

Ever since I met my Rosemary on 15 December 1967 in Mexico, I found out quickly what she wanted. Luckily she wanted me. And so lived a happy marriage for 52 years.

It was in 1986, when she told me she did not want to live in a Burnaby townhouse with an extremely small garden. She found a beautiful house with a large corner garden in Kerrisdale and we move that year. The mortgage was $3500 per month. Luckily I was getting well-paid jobs ($3200 day rates, plus photo materials and mileage). On Sundays, as Rosemary spoke good Spanish, she would tell me, “Alex, here is your domingo.” I was given an allowance.

The photograph in this blog is on the red tablecloth (Bath, Bed & Beyond). It is impossible for me not to remember that Rosemary said when we moved to Kerrisdale, “Alex, I want a Victorian crank-table with nice chairs. We drove to many antique stores in Maple Ridge and found what she wanted. She then insisted on a thick under the tablecloth protector. The red tablecloth is a happy colour that somehow makes me smile every time I connect it with Rosemary.

I will confess now that both my cats, Niño and Niña are allowed to get on the table. Every few days, and especially when I know I am going to have visitors I wash the tablecloth to get rid of all the cat hair.

And when those visitors are about to arrive,  in the morning I can hear Rosemary telling me that he house has to be spotless.

It is always. Rosemary always knew what she wanted.

The photograph in the blog is one that I took of rosemary nude in 1969. I cropped all the annoying bits that would upset some people.I used what what were called Patterson screens. I had only used them with pictures of my daughters in 1978 but recently I used it again on a photograph of my younger granddaughter Lauren.

Screens 

There is not a day that passes by where I do not think of my Rosemary’s outstanding decision to move with our family to Vancouver from Mexico City in 1975. I live a life of almost predictable stability (a tad monotonous) where I do not have to worry about buying dollars or selling them as I would be doing now in my Buenos Aires. I never have to think of bribing anybody as I often did in Mexico. The water that comes out of the tap I can drink safely.

Many people who live in Vancouver often marvel at the scenery of the city. I notice it and particularly when I go in my bike (weather permitting) to Jericho Beach. Some people complain about the lack of culture. I go to many unusual concerts and see cutting edge modern dance because I am in email lists. You can no longer depend on our city’s newspapers for that.

I never have to worry about finances thanks to Rosemary’s financial acumen. While I no longer have a GP I have a very good rheumatologist, cardiologist, urologist, ophthalmologist  and a dentist (who is also an engineer). When I go for a complete blood test mandated by my cardiologist I ask the people who do the test to send it to all my doctors. They all then know of my health at that time.

In short I do not have all the worries about living anywhere else in North America, Central America and South America.

Because I have a large reading habit I can get all of the books I may want in English either at regular bookstores or at MacLeod’s.

My Mexican-made Chevrolet Cruze, which was purchased by my Rosemary (I was told to stay out when she was with the saleswoman), seven years ago has had no (and I repeat, no) mechanical troubles.

In this paradise that Vancouver is for me, there is that impossible melancholy of not having Rosemary around. She did everything possible, before she died, to make sure that I would live on with no problematic wrinkles.

And while I am not  a landscape photographer I do take panoramic shots when I bike to Jericho Beach. Here they are.

Alocasia sanderiana - 14 February 2026

Alocasia sanderiana, or the Kris Plant, is a critically endangered plant endemic to the Philippines (specifically Mindanao), known for its glossy, dark green, arrowhead-shaped leaves with silver-white, scalloped edges that resemble a kris dagger. It is a popular, yet high-maintenance, ornamental tropical plant requiring high humidity, bright indirect light, and well-draining soil.

My maternal grandfather, my grandmother,and my mother were all born in Manila. I have never been there. Since I no longer have any relatives that are alive there I do not think I will ever go.

Particularly because of my abuelita who spoke beautiful Castilian Spanish she often told me of life in her Philippines. As a little boy in Buenos Aires my grandmother and mother would often talk in Tagalog when they did not want me to understand what they were saying. The fact is that little by little I understood a lot of it.

My mother liked to cook Filipino dishes. This Monday my Hilary is coming for dinner. I am going to make a salad that is very Filipino that my mother often made. This consists of sliced tomatoes, onions and hard boiled eggs.

In Mexico City some years ago I went swimming with my Filipino friend Raúl Guerrero Montemayor and a visiting friend from the Philippines called Nonong (his nickname) Quezon. His father, Manuel L.Quézon was the second president of the Philippines. While Raúl denied it we all suspected that he was an illegitimate son of the president as he looked a lot like him.

After our swimming when we were taking a shower, Nonong pointed at my privates and said,”Andong you are suput.” Suput and sometimes Supot is my nickname with some of my remaining friends with a memory. It means that I am an uncircumcised man. Often when Rosemary and I went to Safeway I would notice that the cash register woman was Filipino. Rosemary, very seriously would nod and with her finger indicated "no".I always ignored her and I would then ask the woman to guess what my nickname was. Invariably they would laugh.

Since we arrived ton Vancouver from Mexico City with my Rosemary and two daughters I have always managed to have an Alocasia sanderiana plant. My grandmother had taught me that the leaves resemble a Filipino dagger called a Kris.

In the last few days two of the leaves turned brown. I cut them. Just about when was going to compost them I thought of scanning them and writing this blog.