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| Gabrielle Giguere of Her Harbour |
SATURDAY NIGHT "STUDIO SESSIONS," PRESENTS "HER HARBOUR," CAITLIN HARNETT AND BETTY SMITH AT GRAVENHURST ANGLICAN CHURCH
"MUSIC THAT INSPIRES" EVENING, FOR LOVERS OF SUBTLE ENCHANTMENTS
THE WHOLE IDEA BEHIND THE "STUDIO SESSIONS" EVENTS, IN THE FIRST PLACE, AS PUT TOGETHER BY BROTHERS, ROBERT AND ANDREW CURRIE, WAS TO PROVIDE CONCERT-GOERS, A UNIQUE, COMFORTABLE EVENING, IN A BEAUTIFUL AND HISTORIC BUILDING, WITH "MUSIC THAT INSPIRES." "THEY AREN'T INTENDED TO BE TYPICAL CONCERTS, THAT YOU CAN FIND IN VENUES ALL OVER THIS PART OF ONTARIO," SAYS ANDREW, ABOUT THE SELECTION OF THE PERFORMERS, TO PLAY IN MONTHLY CONCERTS; EACH TO BE HELD AT GRAVENHURST'S ST. JAMES ANGLICAN CHURCH. "WE'RE NOT COPYING THE OTHER REGIONAL ENTERTAINMENT VENUES, AND WE'RE PICKING ARTISTS WHO ARE, IN THEIR OWN WAYS, UNIQUE AND SOMEWHAT EXCEPTIONAL, FROM THEIR CONTEMPORARIES; THE SOUND AND PRESENTATION BEING DIFFERENT FROM OTHER MAIN STREAM ACTS. WE WANT TO SHOW OUR GUESTS, SOME ALTERNATIVES IN MUSIC, THEY MIGHT NOT HAVE EXPERIENCED OF THE EXCITING, TALENT-FILLED INDIE SCENE."
THIS COMING SATURDAY'S "STUDIO SESSIONS" CONCERT, WILL FEATURE THE EXCITING (PRESENTLY TOURING) INDIE-FOLK BAND, "HER HARBOUR," (FOUR PIECE BAND) FROM OTTAWA, THAT WAS RANKED SIXTH OUT OF THE TOP TEN BANDS, PERFORMING AT THIS PAST WEEK'S "NXNE" (NORTH BY NORTHEAST) MUSIC FESTIVAL, IN TORONTO, BECAUSE OF THEIR HAUNTING, BEAUTIFUL SOUND. FOR MORE REVIEWS ON THIS BAND, YOU CAN SEARCH THEM ONLINE. OTHER GUEST PERFORMERS WILL BE AUSTRALIAN SINGER-SONG WRITER, CAITLIN HARNETT, PRESENTLY ON A CANADIAN TOUR, AND BETTY SMITH, FOLKSINGER, PRESENTLY LIVING IN BRACEBRIDGE, AND PERFORMING AROUND MUSKOKA. THE PERFORMERS WILL MERGE THEIR ACTS INTO ONE OUTSTANDING CONCERT, WITH MUSIC THAT WILL INSPIRE.
"WE WANT EACH OF THE SHOWS TO BE MEMORABLE AND FUN TO ATTEND. IT'S A CASUAL EVENT, AND THIS IS A GREAT VENUE, IN WHICH TO PLAY, AND EVERYONE IN THE AUDIENCE GETS A CHANCE TO GET UP CLOSE WITH THE PERFORMERS; BY THE END OF THE NIGHT, WE'RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS, AND THIS IS WHAT WE BELIEVE IS DIFFERENT FROM A LOT OF OTHER CONCERTS. THE CHURCH BUILDING GIVES A WONDERFULLY PEACEFUL ENVIRONMENT IN WHICH TO PERFORM, AND EVERYONE COMMENTS ON HOW HISTORIC AND BEAUTIFUL THE ARCHITECTURE IS. WE ARE HAPPY THAT THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS AT THE CHURCH, HAS ALLOWED US TO HOLD THESE CONCERTS HERE AT ST. JAMES. EVERYBODY FEELS RIGHT AT HOME, AND DURING THE LAST EVENT, THERE WERE PEOPLE WHO DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE AT THE END OF THE NIGHT. THAT SAYS A LOT, DOESN'T IT?"
YOU CAN PURCHASE TICKETS AT THE DOOR, FOR FIFTEEN DOLLARS. DOORS OPEN AT 7:30 P.M.; AND ADVANCE TICKETS ARE STILL AVAILABLE AT ANDREW CURRIE'S MUSIC AND COLLECTABLES, ON MUSKOKA ROAD, ACROSS FROM THE GRAVENHURST OPERA HOUSE. YOU CAN BUY YOUR TICKETS HERE RIGHT UP TO SATURDAY EVENING AT 5 P.M.
IF YOU'RE TIRED OF THE SAME OLD, SAME OLD, AND WANT SOMETHING THAT LEAVES YOU WITH THE FEELING, YOU'VE JUST EXPERIENCED SOMETHING SPECIAL, A LITTLE OTHER-WORLDLY, GIVE THE SESSIONS EVENTS A TRY. TICKETS HAVE BEEN AFFORDABLY PRICED AND ANDREW AND ROBERT HAVE PACKED A LOT OF ENTERTAINMENT INTO A SMALL PACKAGE. "THIS IS A GREAT LITTLE EVENT FOR GRAVENHURST, THAT KIND OF DEFIES THE RULES. IT ISN'T A HUGE PRODUCTION, AND THERE ARE NO BELLS AND WHISTLES, UNLESS THE PERFORMERS ARE USING THEM. IT'S PLAIN, SIMPLY PRODUCED, BUT AS YOU KNOW, GOOD THINGS CAN COME IN SMALL PACKAGES. WE WANT TO KEEP THESE EVENTS AFFORDABLE FOR THE PATRONS, SOME WHO CAN'T AFFORD BIG TICKET PRICES, BUT WANT TO BE PART OF THE MUSIC SCENE," REMINDS ANDREW. "THE PERFORMERS ARE JUST STARTING OUT ON THEIR MUSIC CAREERS, AND THEY WANT INTIMATE CONTACT WITH THEIR AUDIENCES, FOR ALL KINDS OF REASONS. THEY WANT FEEDBACK, AND THIS IS A GREAT WAY TO GET IT; A FEEL FOR HOW, WHAT THEY CREATED, AND PERFORMED, HITS HOME WITH THE AUDIENCE. THE MUSICIANS GUAGE THIS, AND REACT ACCORDINGLY, BECAUSE IT'S ALWAYS IMPORTANT TO CONNECT WITH THE FOLKS WHO ARE BUYING THE TICKETS."
BOTH ANDREW AND ROBERT, INDIE MUSICIANS THEMSELVES, KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET GIGS, AND DEVELOP A FOLLOWING. IN THEIR YEARS WORKING IN THE MUSIC INDUSTRY, ON STAGE, AS PERFORMERS, AS TECHNICAL ASSISTANTS BEHIND THE STAGE, AND FROM THEIR MUSIC SHOP, OVER THE PAST DECADE AND A HALF, THEY HAVE CONNECTED WITH THOUSANDS OF ASSOCIATE MUSICIANS, AND KNOW FIRST HAND, HOW CRITICAL IT IS TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY; AND AFFORDED THE OPPORTUNITY TO PLAY FOR AN AUDIENCE. BOTH BOYS LIKE TO THINK, THEY ARE DOING SOMETHING TO CREATE MORE INTEREST, AND INDUSTRY BUZZ, FOR INDIE ARTISTS, BY CREATING A POSITIVE ENVIRONMENT FOR ARTISTS TO MEET THE PUBLIC.
"OUR SHOP HAS BECOME AN INFORMAL GATHERING PLACE FOR MUSICIANS AND PERFORMERS, WHICH DATES BACK TO THE FIRST DAYS OF THE SHOP, WHEN WE ONLY HAD TWO SMALL ROOMS, UPSTAIRS IN THE FORMER MUSKOKA MOVIE THEATRE. WE HAD THE ROOMS WHERE THE PROJECTORS WERE LOCATED, AND IN FACT, WHERE THE MENS WASHROOM WAS SITUATED. THERE WAS A LITTLE LOUNGE AREA UP THERE AS WELL, AND IT ALL BECAME OUR SHOP TEN YEARS AGO," SAYS ANDREW. "FROM THAT POINT, AND WITH A LOT OF SUPPORT FROM OUR CUSTOMERS, WE EXPANDED ON FIVE MORE OCCASIONS, DOWN ON THE GROUND FLOOR, TO EVEN INCLUDE AN ANTIQUE SHOP WITH THREE ROOMS STRETCHING ALL THE WAY TO THE BACK. WE HAVE A RECORDING STUDIO AND MEETING PLACE FOR MUSICIANS, WHICH IS OPERATED BY MY BROTHER, AND BUSINESS PARTNER, ROBERT, AND BOY OH BOY, HAVE WE EVER HAD SOME WELL KNOWN ARTISTS COMING THROUGH; AND SPENDING A LITTLE TIME, EITHER RECORDING SOMETHING OR OTHER, OR JUST VISITING BECAUSE THEY HAPPENED TO BE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. WE LOVE THE FACT THEY LIKE OUR PLACE ENOUGH, TO WANT TO SPEND TIME HERE ON THEIR BUSY TRAVEL SCHEDULE. THANKS TO THEIR INPUT, WHICH WE ALWAYS BEG FROM THEM, WE HAVE SHAPED A BUSINESS INTO A HALF-RETAIL, HALF CULTURAL RECREATION CENTRE, WHEN ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN; INCLUDING THOSE IMPROMTU JAM SESSIONS, WITH MUSICIANS, SOME WHO HAVE NEVER MET EACH OTHER BEFORE, WHO JUST HAPPENED TO BE IN THE BUILDING AT THE SAME TIME, AND EACH DESIRING A LITTLE PLAY-TIME, IN THE BACK STAGE AREA. WE SUPPLY THE INSTRUMENTS AND EQUIPMENT, IF THE MUSICIANS DON'T MIND DRAWING THE ATTENTION OF OUR RETAIL CUSTOMERS, POKING AROUND INT HE SHOP."
YOUR SUPPORT OF THESE "STUDIO SESSIONS" EVENTS, HELPS INSPIRE FUTURE PROJECTS, SO EACH DEPENDS ON THE SUCCESS OF THE ONE JUST BEFORE IT, AND ON AND ON WE'D LIKE TO GO, MAKING GRAVENHURST ONE OF THE MOST WELCOMING COMMUNITIES ON EARTH FOR INDIE MUSICIANS. THE SESSIONS EVENTS WERE COMMENCED LAST YEAR, AT THIS TIME, AND BECAUSE OF THEIR SUCCESS, AND THE FACT THE NUMBERS IN ATTENDANCE MADE IT NECESSARY TO SEEK ANOTHER LARGER VENUE, WE HAVE MADE THE KIND OF ALL ROUND IMPROVEMENTS, THAT SHOULD GUARANTEE A LONG AND PROSPEROUS FUTURE; BUT IT STILL DEPENDS ON THE PUBLIC. WITH YOUR SUPPORT AS PATRONS, THIS IS GOING TO BE AN HISTORIC FOOTING ON WHICH TO BUILD AN EXCITING MUSIC LEGACY. "WE WANT TO SUCCEED AT THIS, SO WE ARE PUTTING EVERYTHING WE HAVE INTO IT, THAT'S FOR SURE," CONCLUDES ANDREW, AFTER HAVING JUST SPENT THE PAST TWO HOURS, REPAIRING GUITARS FOR CUSTOMERS, AND GETTING BACK A SHIPMENT OF BACK-LINE EQUIPMENT HE RENTED OUT FOR A MAJOR CONCERT IN BARRIE ON THE WEEKEND. "IT'S CRAZY BUSY HERE, BUT WE LOVE IT THAT WAY."
FOR CANADA DAY FIREWORKS WE OPENED-UP WOODCHESTER VILLA FOR PRE-SHOW CAKE AND LEMONADE
IT NEARLY ENDED IN DIVORCE - FOR ME
Sometimes, in the heat of a long and quiet summer afternoon, I would disappear from my office at Woodchester Villa, and sneak up the narrow stairs to the attic, and then up the final section of ladder-style steps, to then quietly pop open the hatch, and sit on the bench of the Widow's Walk, at the peak of the roof, where there was always shade and a cool, refreshing breeze, washing up over the hillside, from the town waterfall; which you could hear even from way up there. It was one of the most picturesque scenes in the whole town, and it allowed me to sit and ponder awhile, about what programs we could organize on the museum lawns. It was from here, that I thought about hosting a special open house, ahead of the Fireworks Display, for Canada Day, held below the heritage site, at Bracebridge Bay Park. The Board of Directors, of the Historical Society was down to its lowest level, and if we wanted to put an event on, it was pretty much a case of doing it as a family initiative. We had worn out a lot of volunteers by that point, almost ten years into the museum program. So I had to convince my wife to make a cake. Not just any cake. I needed a stealth approach, unlike all the other times, I pitched wild ideas that always meant more work for her, and more hand shaking and congratulations for me. Guys are such jerks, right? Admittedly, for what I put my wife through, I was considered royalty as far as jerks go.
During the time, Suzanne and I managed Woodchester Villa, and Museum, back in the late 1980's, we tried everything except an open-bar, in an attempt to increase daily attendance. We didn't have much of a budget to work with, but that's never stopped us from finding new ways of getting attention on the power of two thin dimes. I was a feature editor, at the time, with The Muskoka Sun, and Muskoka Publications generally, so I was able to get some free advertising, if I disguised it as regional editorial copy. Bob Boyer was a beast, when it came to the amount of copy he used, to fill up Muskoka Sun issues, that often, especially on holiday weekends in the summer, could be more than a hundred pages. So I would find a way of helping fill the holes between the advertisements, in these behemoth Sun editions, but dress-up and in some cases, outrightly disguise historical features, to be on-the-cheap promotions for Woodchester. Canada Day comes to mind. Suzanne hated when I came up with ideas that involved the preparation of food, because I did most definitely take advantage of her culinary capabilities. The fact that she even taught catering services, at Bracebridge High School, did tempt me to engage her in even larger projects, such as the baking of a massive Canada Day cake, for a Woodchester Villa open house. It was probably in the summer of 1989. It almost ended in divorce. But then, in our marriage, this has been commonplace. Sometimes I think Suzanne could probably handle news of my infidelity better, than when I let her know, that, once again, I've taken on some other ridiculously huge project. "I'm not cooking a side of beef (which she did for the Loveable Losers Hockey Tournament one year), or a Canada Day cake," she whispers, from the side of her mouth, which means "your bags are packed and the road is your new home."
I have been promoting community events for most of my adult life. Moments after arriving back home, from university, I was looking for things to do, as a sort of history-outreach. I'm still working on projects like this, with our family, now here in Gravenhurst, and instead of history, we're working in the music field. I enjoy it, but the work we create for ourselves in the process, makes each of us reflect, when a little weary, why we keep pursuing these cultural projects, when sometimes the results are poor attendance, and a very few dollars to spread around at the end of the day. But nine tenths of the mission, involves the excitement of organization, and set-up. We are driven, you see, by the challenge of it all, and this is what got me in trouble at Woodchester, time and again. I believed so much in its potential, and the fact it had been mostly unfulfilled, that I simply couldn't give up on what I had begun from a clean slate in 1977. At that time, we didn't have a museum in Bracebridge, but we soon would; and I'd come too far to let the place slide into obscurity, which it seemed to be headed, each time our funding was reduced for a variety of reasons, which unfortunately, we only ever knew about, after being declined. We were an optimistic bunch back then, at least for the first ten years of operation. We just kept believing we could earn public support, if we held more "free admission" events, and conducted lots of public relations tours for special groups, including the schools of Muskoka. We never got a nickel of subsidy for hosting school tours, because we thought it would help us secure more money for our operational grants; were we ever wrong. It's good I enjoyed being a tour guide, because I did a lot of them based on goodwill, versus cash in the register.
On this particularly festive occasion, I had planned for an open house on the evening of the annual fireworks display, in recognition of Canada Day, which regularly drew a huge crowd, to Bracebridge Bay Park, directly below the museum property. I got this idea in my head, that we might be able to draw some of the crowd, gathering at the park, in the two hours before the fireworks began. Stupid me! I never gambled on the slots, or on the ponies, but I always took risks on getting attendance at these special events, which by the way, were expensive to operate, and tough to man with only a skeleton staff and a few volunteers. It was designed as a promotion within a promotion, to launch our upcoming "Christmas in July," celebration, later in the month, and I believed it would be an ideal opportunity to promote the summer activities at Woodchester, with, you bet, a huge birthday cake, and gallons of lemonade that we had to make downstairs, in the octagonal house's tiny modern kitchen, and then haul up the narrow stairs to the main floor, and out to the front porch. So here's what happened. But you've probably already figured it out.
We were living in a cottage on Golden Beach Road, and youngest son Robert, was less than a year old; Andrew was a wild, running toddler. I asked Suzanne if she could possibly make us a large cake for our open house, with lots of icing, and possibly the Canadian flag outlined on top. She cringed, frowned, moaned, and scowled, but just when I had decided to buy a cake instead, next thing you know, she makes it clear, that it's possible, on one condition; if I buy the supplies and some new pans. We often made up for shortfalls, by buying the supplies we needed, out of our personal resources, and that really angered Suzanne, because we weren't that well off to be so benevolent, when the Town of Bracebridge, was ultimately responsible for museum operation. So Suzanne figured out what she needed for ingredients, and how many pans we were going to need, because the cake would have to be baked in smaller pans, and mortared together with icing, to look as if it was one huge cake, instead of a composite.
The weather circumstances were perfect, not just for the fireworks display, but for our open house, which we had planned for the front lawn of Woodchester, overlooking the North Branch of the Muskoka River, from just above the falls. We could always use the front porch of the house (known to locals as the Bird House), if the weather had turned inclement. But we got lucky in that regard at least. I had to transport the cake and lemonade mix, and many containers, and supplies, from our cottage to the museum, on a hot day with a little bit of wind. It might have been considered a nice breeze, except if you happened to be carrying a large iced cake. First of all, just to get that cake into our station-wagon, was an accomplishment. Suzanne had been grumpy all day, looking after two youngsters, then baking in the heat, and trying against all odds, to keep the icing from melting away, in a steady decline over the edge of the cake; or heading for the low points on the top. Especially at the connection joints between each of the smaller cake blocks. I was working at the museum and the newspaper, so, as usual, I had an excuse for being absent. I have a whole book full of excuses like this, and Suzanne is well aware of my diversions to get what I want. If you were thinking, "Mr. Currie, you are incorrigable," then you would be treating me lightly, and fairly, because in reality, I deserve much worse.
When I left the house, shortly after a rushed dinner, that night, the four of us were crowded in the car, by cake and jugs for lemonade, plus the boxes of supplies piled up in the back. When we got to the museum, we had to keep one hand each, on Andrew and Robert, and lift-out the provisions; and without any volunteers to help us, we had to navigate some difficult passage-ways, and narrow halls, with really big stuff. So the disasters started early. We dropped, fumbled, tripped, and had to stop everything to chase after Andrew, before he headed down to the river for a closer inspection. The ultimate disaster, was when I was trying to bring out the large eight paneled cake, with a light tin foil cover over top, from the back of the station wagon, in a fairly brisk wind rising up from the hollow of the bay. About two steps toward the basement door, a burst of wind from the river-side part of the house, lifted the foil, which had icing on the underside, flipped it over as if God had decided to teach me a lesson, and it wrapped around my face like a shroud. I have no idea how this happened, but I was blinded by the foil, which because of the icing, stuck to my face, blinding me to the path ahead. I stood there and yelled for Suzanne, who was by this point, on the other side of the house. Then the wind began gusting so hard, that the foil was actually acting like a sail, and pushing me back toward the car. I couldn't take my hands off the cake, or it might have fallen to the ground, and I couldn't see to turn around, which might have enabled me to set it on the bumper of the car, for a few moments of re-adjustment. By this point, I was covered in icing, even my pants and shirt, and it was now in my hair. I was the human Canadian flag for those few moments, but thank goodness, Suzanne finally heard my screams for assistance. And when she rounded the corner of the building, with a kid in one arm, and at arm's length, a second child, she started yelling at me to "stand still, stand still, don't move, you'll drop it." I might have dropped the cake, but there was no way of shaking the foil, which had adhered to me as if it was wallpaper.
Suzanne put the boys back in the car, took the cake from me, removed the foil from my face, mumbled and cursed the fool she had married, and carried the cake up to the porch via the path, instead of trying to go through the basement door, as I had intended. Her success at getting the sectional cake to the porch, was that she didn't have to contend with the iced foil in her face, because I was still holding it, while watching the kids in the car. It was a night of this kind of activity and misadventure. I didn't help with my clumsy interventions, including spilling gallons of lemonade on the way up the narrow basement stairs. Suzanne spent a lot of that night chasing after me with a mop. She wouldn't let me clean it up myself, in case I destroyed any of the museum collection in the process. I might have made a decent museum manager, but that was dealing with the history side of things, not the enhancements for such events, like a honking big Canada Day cake, and enough lemonade for a couple thousand guests. This is the pivotal point in this story of course. We were looking for a turn-out in the hundreds at least, but instead, got visitors in the "tens" instead. Now that's what really got me in trouble with Suzanne, more so than anything else that day. I had promised her that the effort would not be wasted, and there would only be crumbs of this cake left, at the end of the night. Let's just say we were eating cake for some time after that Canada Day festival.
Once we got the cake set on a large table in the porch area, and a stand for the lemonade, which had to be mixed, and put in one large container, downstairs, we had a few minutes to normalize, which for us then, was just sitting on the steps and wiping the sweat from our brows. We had set it up, for a six o'clock opening, so we had quite a bit of work to do, in order to get all the lights back on, as we had closed early that day (and staff mistakenly shut all the lights off). It would take us a half hour at least, to get the the buildings opened fully. Of course, at this time, we also operated the old Presbyterian Church, which had been rebuilt based on the original pioneer church on site; this was the "museum" part of the Woodchester Villa complex.
I always liked the way Woodchester looked, and the atmosphere it gave off, in the evening. We didn't open often at nights, unless it was to host a special tour, or historical society meeting in the museum building. So we were definitely pleased to offer guests to the property, a chance to see it in the low light; with the illumination of lamplights, making the historic interior so nostalgic of the early days in this community. The 1880's octagonal house, was built by Woollen Mill founder, Henry Bird, based on the house plans made popular by American phrenologist, Orsen Squire Fowler. It was said, that the octagonal design offered untold health, and living advantages. It is said the design was good for spiritual quantities and qualities. It was certainly spirited. In the twilight, it was especially spirited, and you couldn't be in the house very long, before you started to experience the creaking and groaning of old architecture on a steep hillside. It gets a little harder to explain the sound of a youngster crying, dogs barking, and steps being taken on the floor above, or up the stairways, especially when there was no child, no dog (anywhere around the house), or visitors to explain the foot-fall. The paranormal intrusions weren't too unsettling, especially, having spent as much time in the house as we did back then. We respected all the spirited enhancements, as the rights of previous ownership to carry-on residency, and just learned to get along with the occupation; and it seemed to pacify them, that we were on their side.
On this Canada Day evening, we started getting nervous about attendance, at about seven o'clock, when we had only welcomed twenty or so people, and given out a small amount of cake, and lemonade. So I created a bigger sign than the one I'd set out at the driveway earlier that day. What I didn't really grasp, was that those attending the fireworks, wanted to get a good place for viewing, and if they delayed, by coming to see us at the museum, they might have lost the best picnic and seating locations.
I was also giving my special tours of the building, which included a trip up to the Widow's Walk, which was the top viewing pod, located at the very peak of the roof, wrapped with a wooden railing. The Bird family used the viewing platform, to have their tea, and watch out over the young town, and the waterfall, as it cascaded by their woollen mill buildings. It offered a fantastic view back then, because there were far fewer tall trees in the way. There was a dumb-waiter that went right to the base of the last length of staircase, before the hatch. It was a precarious climb, because the staircase up to the third floor, was very narrow, and one of the reasons this level had never been developed as part of the public part of the museum. Fire regulations prohibited us taking guests up there, but I did it anyway, always under my close supervision. It was a fabulous part of the Woodchester Experience, and it was safe if taken slowly, and carefully. Even with the tall pines on the hillside, it still afforded an amazing view of the river valley, and a small part of the main street of town.
Out of the several hundred people that eventually showed up that night, I was able to get about twenty-five up to the Widow's Walk, and that was quite an accomplishment. The best tour for me, was when I was able to get the attention of Town of Bracebridge Councillor, Aubrey Glass, who decided to come up the hillside for a piece of cake. As is my tradition, I seized the opportunity to give Aub the full tour, with lots of cake and lemonade in tow, using the visit to offer insights about the great need of more financial considerations for the museum. I unleashed a barrage of ideas and future planning, that would make the museum more contemporary, and better suited to local use; instead of just being considered a tourist attraction. I had never had much contact with Aub, except as a reporter, when I covered the meetings of Bracebridge Council. I didn't know him personally, so it was a good opportunity to plead our case, and show him the neat aspects of the two buildings, that by admission, he had never visited previously. It was great for us, to have this town contact, because honestly, that was our weakest link at that point. The positive outcome, was that the great cake and refreshing lemonade, and the open house generally, did foster for us, a new and improved relationship with the town authority, in part, because Aub Glass, a very influential councillor, had seen the potential of the historic site; beyond the reality that it had been a sort of "money pit," by reputation. Well, to be honest, there was some truth to the allegations, that we could make thousands of dollars disappear in the time it took to have a slice of cake, and a drink of lemonade. Museums are expensive propositions, especially staffing, property maintenance, services, and upgrades, and of course, insurance costs. I guess taking patrons up to the Widow's Walk would have cost us dearly, if the insurance people had found out, the kind of risk I was prepared to make, in order to get Woodchester exposed for what it was; a great place to spend some time in the heart of Bracebridge.
Of course, while I was running tours, and taking select individuals (with a little courage) to the Widow's Walk, Suzanne was having to contend with serving cake and lemonade, with a couple of cranky wee lads, hot and bothered as my mother used to say; and when I came upon her, covered in cake and residue-of-kid, I knew this was likely to be the last liberty to be taken, with massive baking projects for public consumption. She glared at me, in that special way, that indicated I would be sleeping on the deck for the coming week. The problem, at this point in the museum story, was that we had lost a majority of our directors, on the governing historical society, and we were having a tough time securing volunteers. We even had to operate with a small staff during the seven days each week, we were open, so seeing as this whole museum thing was my idea, dating back to 1977, I had no choice but to try my best to keep the place operational. In fairness, I had warned Suzanne, before we were married, that I had chose a life of community involvement and public service, along with a sort of happenstance vow of poverty, at the same time, such that any woman that would have a guy like me, would have to carry around a hundred pound grain of salt; and possess the patience of a saint, just to get through an average week. This is even before I started hoarding as a soon-to-be antique dealer and book collector. "You know, when you told me all that stuff, I was planning our wedding," she said to me one day, "so, it's what you get, for not paying attention."
Out of thousands of folks gathered in and around Bracebridge Bay Park, including lined up on the silver bridge, above the falls, we got a couple of hundred visitors, and that meant we had half the cake leftover, and a barrel of lemonade for staff for the next couple of weeks. We wrapped up the night, when the fireworks began, and felt exhausted as usual, and a little cranky about the state we were in, with cake residue all over our clothing, and sticky dried lemonade on our hands. We would leave the property, feeling quite sure, we would never, ever do anything like that again. Until the next time. But, on our way back to the car, as we remember from many similar walks of the living dead, we'd always pause, and lean back on the hood of the station-wagon, and look at the silhouette of the old house, on the hill; and on this night, seeing the fireworks spraying into the sky, above the roof-line, it suddenly, and profoundly, all seemed such a perfect evening afterall, as humid as it was, and as tired as we felt. It's what happened every time we finished a public special-event, at Woodchester. We'd be full of regrets about why we had put ourselves in such a position, as project co-ordinators, in the first place; but then soon reconcile that it had been a worthwhile exercise none the less. Despite the food items in our hair, and our barking dogs beneath the tight shoes on our respective feet. You didn't have much time for sitting, especially during summer programs, where we might have to contend with a hundred kids and their parents, wanting to participate in pioneer crafts. Suzanne used to run the "butter making" segment, and you can imagine how buttery she was, at the end of the day. So were our boys, and I remember once, finding her holding Robert, while working the churn, and carrying on the narrative to a large crowd. Talking about looking the part of a pioneer woman homesteading on the wild frontier. We had staff, just not enough to contend, with what would become, that same summer, a popular program of historical interpretation. The bottom line, was that we still didn't make enough money to cover costs, let alone enough to finance some of the other great ideas we had in the wings.
I was just talking to Suzanne about that night, so many Canada Days ago, asking whether or not she had forgiven me yet, for my foray into public spectacle. "It was never the case I was mad at you, but rather, what extra concerns and challenges came up later, that made things more difficult." "You mean that Woodchester wind that covered me in icing," I asked. "Well, that was one thing for sure, because I had to re-ice the whole flag in less than a half hour." Truthfully, we've had a lot of laughs, especially in retrospect, after these initiatives, that were always successful despite the turn-out. And we anxiously awaited the reviews of the events, and without exception, even if it was on the back page or in the copy of a country correspondent, in that week's newspaper, we can honestly say, we were never associated with an event disaster. Except if you count things like icing stains, and lemonade soakers.
I don't think there will be any Woodchester event for Canada Day this year, but maybe one day in the future; if it's finally decided what the former Bird House will be used for, if not a continuation of the museum. The old house has been closed for the past several years, after some architectural issues, and a balcony collapse under a heavy snow-load; and although there have been ongoing restorations this year, I haven't read much about what the future holds in store. I'll always have a soft spot for Woodchester that's for sure. A lot of fine folks dedicated a great deal of time, to get the museum up and running. Problem was, we didn't know just how hard and expensive it was, a decade down the road from the ribbon cutting. In this regard, we all learned about obstacles, and how governments like to throw them in the way.
Whenever we left Woodchester Villa, after one of our programs, well attended or not, I'd do my final check of all doors and windows, and I never walked away without the sensation that someone was looking out the window as I passed. I'd look up and momentarily think I saw a face pressed against the glass, but on closer inspection, it would be a shadow or a reflection of a tree instead. Still, there was the intimate feeling that I was getting a review from within, and well, it was as if the old house, was feeling pretty good about itself, being so contemporary in that octagonal historic package. In my opinion it was a powerful house, and whatever was with Fowler's design, it most definitely generated a spiritual energy, and we had a lot of guests tell us about what they saw, felt and sensed about her interior, that was of the paranormal-kind. To our family, we had good vibes, and we were thankful of this, because, you know, we felt the house was supporting us in its own way, especially in its aura of hospitality.
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