Musicians

We went to a show at the Venetian tonight. I get two free passes every time I donate blood (every ninety days but I usually wait for tickets to something we'll like). This time the tickets were for a group named "Human Nature."

Human Nature is a four white guys from Australia who sing (basically) Motown songs. They put on a good show.

Seeing Human Nature got the wheels in my head turning back to when my first wife, Ruth, worked with musicians and other artists, first when she worked for UNICEF, then when she was with a dance company, and then on her own as an artist representative.

I got to meet more than a few artists, some actually famous, at various functions and gigs around Toronto and such.

Human Nature piqued a memory about a UNICEF event for something, I really can't remember what. I remember it was held at a restaurant on the second floor on Bloor Street West. And Eddie Kendricks, formally of the Temptations, was there along with some Canadian artists and actors.

As usual Ruth promised she just had to take care of a little business and that she'd spend time with me (I really hated going to these artsy things because I am about the anti-thesis of artsy). Anyway it never worked out; Ruth would go do her business and that would be the last I'd see of her until she decided it was time to go.

So I was just hanging out, being a wallflower, when Eddie Kendricks came over and leaned against the wall with me. He was a kick for sure. Kendricks was a real hound dog, regaling another guy and myself with stories about how he'd like to get it on with just about every good looking woman in the crowd. There we were, three guys who really didn't want to be there, talking crap about the women (man look at the ... on that one) in the room.

Then there was the time we went to the pre-opening party for the Irish Rovers Pub on Bloor Street. The Rovers were associated with UNICEF Canada so Ruth got the invite. And as usual I ended up being left alone. So I found a corner to hide in and ended up having a damn good time. The corner happened to be at the back of the pub and they'd set up a mountain of raw oysters. I'd never had oysters before but I learned to like them that night. There were two others that sat themselves next to the oysters too - a good-looking woman and one of the Rovers, I think one of the Millars but not the leader Will.

The rumor was it cost a million dollars to open the bar. It lasted less than a year.

I would say the absolute nicest artist I met was Richie Havens. Ruth did some work for a record company he recorded with and there was a party someplace that I went to with her. Richie was the sweetest, most unpretentious and sincere artist I've ever met.

Then there was Dave Edmunds who was at a Concert for Kampuchea thing. I like Dave Edmunds but he really wasn't that big. But you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted. For almost the whole get together he was either talking to a music critic or standing in a corner behind a body guard.

I think the first time I met some famous people it was by accident. We had gone to Stratford, Ontario to see Peter Ustinov in King Lear. Ustinov did a lot of volunteer work for UNICEF Canada and Ruth got tickets. We sat in about the third row center and directly next to me was Gena Roland and next to her John Cassavettes, her husband. I hardly remember the play.

I got to meet Ustinov at a film shoot for UNICEF. Peter Ustinov and Maggie Smith had both agreed to make some PSAs for UNICEF and I sat through the entire event - being ignored by my wife of course.

There were others, many Canadian artists of varying stature. Brent Titcomb, who had been in a group named 3's A Crowd in the '60s. Brent was a well respected singer and sometimes songwriter. Ron Nigrini, another singer/songwriter, and one of the hardest working guys around. Ron's biggest problem in my opinion was that he was too nice a guy to make it in a cut throat business but he made a living at it.

Through Ron Nigrini, Ruth and I met Rich Dodson of the Stampeders, who owned a Canadian record label and was a producer.

There was Daisy DeBolt who during the '60s was half of a duo named Fraser & DeBolt. Daisy was a character for sure. She had a great voice but she just was too out there for me. I remember once she did a showcase at the Brunswick House. I forget exactly how much she was getting paid but I think it was $1,000 for the night. Daisy seemed to think that every gig was a party so she gathered about eight or nine musical friends to accompany her and promised each one $100 for the night. Ruth got stiffed for the work she did.

Daisy was in a play. I wish I could remember the name of it. It played at some "hotel" (bar) in Western Ontario. It was a pretty good play too and should have gone further.

Ruth's time with the modern dance company was probably the worst for me. I got dragged to so many modern dance shows that I began to dread them. I'm sorry but those people are weird. I've seen so much "interpretive" dance that meant absolutely nothing to me. The only saving grace was that some of women, and some of the men, seen to interpret life naked. It's difficult to look someone in the eye after you've seen every square inch of their body.

I'm glad I can say I've met some of these people but for me, sitting in a hotel room talking about racing with Dan Gurney was so much more important.

Everyone has a skeleton in the closet don't they?

There was a time in my life when I wasn't exactly a saint. Sure there was the normal teenage stuff - driving too fast, smoking the tires, drinking, sex, some drugs but there was more. There was a time when I did some things that could have put me in jail.

I can't remember the dates of these events and they weren't always my idea. (Usually if I wanted to steal something I did it on my own.)

Bennie and the Harley - My sister's first husband was a piece of work. I looked up to him and hated him at the same time. He was fearless while I was not. But I never could have lived his lifestyle.

One night I went over to their house, they were living near Daly Road and Rte 32. My sister wasn't there but Ben asked if I'd give him a ride someplace. Of course I said okay. He gave me directions out toward the Lucky Strike Lanes. As we passed a house he told me to make a u-turn and park. Ben got out of the car, ran across the street and disappeared into the darkness.

Next thing I knew he came running out pushing a motorcycle. As he ran past me he hopped on the bike, yelled "follow me" and bump started the bike. I was stunned but I followed him back to my sisters place. He, I guess we, stole someone's Harley. I don't remember much about the bike except it was chopped some with a huge rear tire.

The VW engine - This happened one night, again I can't remember when. My friend Danny picked me up in his '62 Impala. There were a total of four of us in the car, Danny, Jimmy Shelto, someone else I can't remember, and me. We were going somewhere but Jimmy asked if we could make a quick stop someplace. He directed Danny to parking spot just up the hill from Pelletier's Chevron.

Jimmy got out of the car, opened the trunk and disappeared for about ten minutes. When he came back his hands were greasy and he wanted all of us to get out and help him. We walked to a nearby driveway where there was a VW Beetle with the engine on the ground. We lifted the VW up while Jimmy slid the engine out, then the four of us carried it to Danny's car. The engine fit nicely in the trunk. I guess Jimmy needed an engine.

We heard the next day that the owner of the VW pushed it to Pelletier's because it wouldn't start.

Franc Chevrolet - Not every caper was successful. My buddy Stan and I headed out to Franc Chevrolet on River Road in Willington. I'm pretty sure I was a willing participant in this caper. I don't remember why but Stan wanted a 4-speed and he knew they had a Camaro with one. We drove out in Stan's GTO, parked way back on Baxter Road and lugged a couple of jacks and some tools over towards Franc.

We crossed the road north of the parking lot and walked along the railroad tracks until we got to the back of where the Camaro was parked. We set up the jacks, and raised the car. Stan did most of the work and in no time the trans was almost out. Then a car pulled into the lot.

I don't remember if it was the police (if it was it must have been the State Police) or not but we hightailed it down the embankment, over the tracks and into a marsh next to the river. We stayed there for over an hour, soaking wet, scared shitless. They (whoever) didn't find us but Stan lost two bottle jacks of his dad's and some tools.

We slogged north through the swamp, crossed River Road and sprinted up Baxter to Stan's GTO. We did get home without getting caught. I think we came up with some story about the GTO getting stuck in the mud and losing the jacks in the dark.

I am not celebrating these incidents. They happened a long time ago and I'm not proud of that part of my life but I can't deny it. I believe I learned from them and grown.