Beebe’s name almost never appeared in print in Canada. Her family newspaper never reported on her activities unless it was absolutely impossible to avoid such a reference. It would not be possible, for example, to refrain from reporting that Mr and Mrs Grade had entertained a visiting dignitary, or that Mrs Grade had attended a luncheon on behalf of a hospital or other worthy cause. In the main, however, Beebe did not attend such luncheons. The family foundation—The Ardwold and Martha Beebe Foundation—looked after all of the philanthropic activities of the family. Charitable efforts were conducted discreetly and were not intended to garner a spot in the limelight; that would be déclassé.
Managing the media was simple if you owned the newspaper that your husband published. Any editor or reporter reckless enough to suggest an article featuring a member of the Beebe family would be corrected. Anyone foolish enough to publish a feature in a competitive newspaper or magazine would find his or her employment at The Canadian Record terminated. Freelance journalists would be blacklisted at the paper.
The media blackout was not absolute. Beebe and Ardie both appeared in the society columns in Palm Beach from time to time, but these publications were not read at home so there was no fear of creating a sensation in the media. Even these references were restricted to events they hosted: members of the Beebe family did not attach their name to events outside of their own dynastic purview.
The habit of living a private life was an old one. During the early decades of the 20th century it was the custom for fine old Canadian families of dignified stature to avoid having their names and activities appear in the popular newspapers and magazines of the day. For the ladies and gentlemen of the Beebe clan this meant that there were only three acceptable occasions where a family member should be mentioned in the newspaper: Birth, marriage and death.
Notable achievements of a public nature or those rewarding civic contributions were exceptions where it would not be right to deny the public the satisfaction of knowing that a Beebe had received the Order of Canada, for example, or had accepted an ambassadorship. Even relatively workaday business achievements—becoming chancellor of a university or running for public office—would be acceptable, although members of the Beebe family did not run for office. They influenced politics and politicians with money, connections and their powerful newspaper and publishing holdings.
In the spring of 1965 Beebe appeared in a full-page story about the new Ford Mustang; a lovely photograph of the golden-haired girl and her hale brother accompanied the piece. The image—an innocent snapshot of youth and vitality—was taken in Muskoka where Beebe and Ardie drove in the sun with the top down. The title of the article was supposed to read
“Miss Beebe in a Convertible!!”
but was mistakenly printed as
“Beebe in a Convertible!!”
and the appellation had become fixed in the popular—and private—consciousness of the city and nation ever since.
There was something rather immediate about the woman in question and it seemed right to suddenly know her by her famous surname. Her marriage into the equally stratospheric Grade family had not diminished her luminosity and she would spend the rest of her life as Beebe Grade.
Prior to the publication of this article she was not known by any particular name. Her immediate family called her Sis and her close girlfriends called her Vessy, short for her given name of Vesta.
The power of the media to create reality is very strong. Just ask Beebe Grade, formerly known as Vesta.
The truth was that Ardie rather enjoyed the odd bit of publicity. It was all rather fun to read about yourself in the newspaper and having your routine activities—socializing, designing, entertaining—presented as reportage. He had a large file of clippings of his press mentions, each carefully filed away and saved for posterity.
In the late 1960s Ardie was entangled in a messy divorce case replete with a lurid sex scandal and the name Ardwold Beebe Junior became fodder for competitive newspapers across Canada. Any attempts to shut the story down were ended when the aggrieved wife announced in open court that her husband’s affections had been alienated because of his sexual affair with Ardie Beebe. Not to be outdone, the wounded husband then announced—again in open court to a shocked audience—that his wife had also been “carrying on” with Ardie Beebe, and the nature of their relationship had precious little to do with interior décor.
The scandal that followed unleashed a maelstrom of gossip and was heady enough to see Ardie banished to Palm Beach for 18 months where his rehabilitation could take place away from the rest of the Beebe clan.
It didn’t work.
Luxuriating in his newfound fame as a roué, Ardie went out to supper nightly on his reputation as a swinger and thoroughly enjoyed his exile. Far from enduring a grim purgatory he found himself a bona fide society darling and seduced his way through two seasons before being summoned home. He returned to Toronto in the spring of 1971—more of a sensation then when he was sent packing—and declined a position with the family firm. Uninterested in the newspaper except for the revenue it generated he opened an antique shop and hung out his shingle as a decorator.
Ardie never discussed the scandal but did refer to himself thus: “I'll have you know that I happen to be a tail of two cities.”
A press release from the offices of Miss Adelaide Cousins.
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