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The Showman shines no more
| Source: |
Globe and Mail |
| Date: |
January 17, 2008 |
| Author: |
Beverley Smith |
On Thursday, Christopher Bowman (the Showman) was laid to rest in
Encino, Calif. At age 40, he died too soon.
Many who heard the news were shocked at his death, but few were
surprised. He was a self-described Hans Brinker from Hell. Canadian
star Kurt Browning cried when he got the news in an email.
Bowman was a two-time U.S. champion and a world and Olympic competitor
who drove his coaches crazy, and failed to live up to his vast
potential. He may have been the most purely talented figure skater in
the sport's history, but his battles with drugs, alcohol and the party
life made him an unfulfilled legend of the sport. When he died on
Jan. 10 in a budget hotel in Los Angeles, he weighed 261 pounds, had a
string of run-ins with the law and was divorced and destitute.
"He went to a place I was scared he would a long time ago,'' Browning
said. "I cried. I was so mad that something so great was gone. He
never wanted to hurt anybody.''
The lives of Browning and Bowman were intertwined. They were
contemporaries. Browning said he can still remember watching Bowman
skate his long program at the 1987 world championships in Cincinnati
and thinking morosely: "I will never beat this guy. I'm never going to
win a world championship. Oh bad luck, to be in his generation. That
sucks.''
Things changed after that. Bowman began to follow a dark
path. Browning changed his way of thinking about competing against
Bowman, developed the quad and improved a lot. Bowman won a silver and
a bronze medal at the world championships, sometimes by the seat of
his pants.
While Bowman was underachieving, Browning won four world championship
titles.
"Christopher was contagious,'' Browning said. "He would make you do
things that you know you could never have told your mom.''
He said he spent time with Bowman one time in a bar in a small city in
Europe. Bowman had attracted two girls, fans who followed him
everywhere around the continent. World ice dancing champion Paul
Duchesnay, a Canadian who skated for France, was also at the
table. Bowman began to make suggestions about what the group should
get up to.
"Wait, I'm going to go,'' Browning told the group. He clambered onto
the booth, jumped out the window and got out of the bar as fast as he
could.
Browning was sauntering back to his hotel in the dark when he heard
footsteps behind him, coming quickly. Browning got a little
concerned. He was vulnerable, alone in the dark. But he needn't have
worried. It was Paul Duchesnay, running as quickly as he could. He
streaked right past Browning, saying nothing. Browning said, "His eyes
were like saucers.''
"He just kept going,'' Browning said. "I guess I left just in
time.''
Bowman's mind didn't operate like anybody else's. "He is what we need
again,'' Browning said. "I watched the [senior men's practice
yesterday at the Canadian championships.] We need to have somebody
have fun out there. Christopher would make you feel young and
alive. You'd smile just to see him — except when he'd kick your ass
[in competition.]"
Don Laws, the U.S. coach of Patrick Chan, said he's known Bowman since
he was a novice competitor. "He had a wonderful energy,'' he said. "He
had charisma as a youngster. He had performance qualities."
But he had a different way of looking at the world. When Bowman was 17
or 18, Laws recalls him edging himself out onto a window ledge of his
hotel — and he wasn't on the bottom floor. His roommate found his
actions too scary and moved out. "He was not a mean person,'' Laws
said. "But the things he did were so bizarre.''
Once, while riding in a car with his coach, Frank Carroll, Bowman
asked him to stop, because he wanted to buy some candy in a
store. Carroll pulled over, but was astonished to see Bowman cross the
street with no regard whatsoever for the busy Los Angeles traffic that
was coming both ways. Somehow, he made it safely to the other
side. "He didn't do it to be mean or precocious,'' Laws said. "He just
did it.''
Many people tried to help him, Laws said. But it was all for
naught. "I remember when he won novice (at the U.S. championships) and
he was the brightest, cheerful little boy, and I thought this kid is
going to go a long way. He had star quality.''
But, born in Hollywood, Bowman was a true child of Hollywood. "Now
look at Britney Spears,'' Laws said. "Here we go again.''
Bowman lived in Toronto for a time with Toller Cranston, who decided
to coach him. But Cranston had to endure a stream of drug dealers and
prostitutes hammering at his door at all hours of the night. Bowman
was beaten up in Toronto, supposedly over a drug deal gone
bad.
At the 1991 world championships in Munich, Bowman had partied too much
the night before an important practice and drew the ire of Canadian
coach Ellen Burka, who was working with Cranston as Bowman's
coach.
To get back in her good books, Bowman decided to attempt a quadruple
jump in the practice, something that was very rare at the
time. Without the benefit of ever practising it, he landed it. Burka
was stunned.
He's also famous for improvising the choreography in the final half of
a program at a world championship — in which he finished
third. Carroll was livid.
His final competition was the 1992 world championships in San Jose,
Calif., where he ploughed into the boards near the end of his long
program and had to be carried off the ice, with much ado.
He was divorced and leaves a 10-year-old daughter. His wallet was
crammed with photos of her at the time of his death.
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