CHRISTMAS IN THE NEWSROOM - THE CASE OF STEAK SAUCE THAT GOT US THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS
AYE, WHAT'S CHRISTMAS WITHOUT A FEW FOLK TALES TO RECOGNIZE THE QUALITIES AND QUANTITIES OF THE FESTIVE SEASON. HERE'S ONE NOW:
SON ANDREW WAS GIVEN A BOTTLE OF JOHNNY WINTER'S FAMOUS BARBECUE SAUCE, BY ONE OF HIS COMPANION MUSICIANS, A MONTH OR SO AGO, WHEN HE WENT DOWN TO SEE A TRIBUTE SHOW TO THE LATE GUITARIST, AT PETER'S PLAYERS IN GRAVENHURST. HE DIDN'T WANT TO USE ANY OF IT, BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE MORE SIGNIFICANT UNOPENED. AS FOR THE EXPIRY DATE, WELL, IT WAS ENTIRELY NECESSARY TO USE AND ENJOY WHAT JOHNNY HAD CONCOCTED, AS THE PERFECT PARTNER FOR A STEAK OR RIBS. ANDREW WORKED AS A SOUND TECHNICIAN FOR JOHNNY WINTER NUMEROUS TIMES, AND ALWAYS LOVED HAVING THE OPPORTUNITY TO VISIT THE BLUES GUITARIST IN HIS R.V., THE ARTIST'S HOME AWAY FROM HOME WHILE ON TOUR.
WE OPENED THE BOTTLE, AND EVERYBODY HAD A SPOONFUL IN HIS HONOR. IT WAS REALLY GOOD. SINCE THEN, I INSIST ON HAVE A SPOON-FULL OR TWO AT DINNER, WHETHER I'M HAVING MEAT OR NOT. IT GOES GREAT ON A BAKED POTATO. I KNOW THAT'S SACRALAGE TO MEAT FANCIERS BUT I JUST DON'T CARE. I'VE BEEN HOOKED ON BARBECUE SAUCE FOR DECADES. HONESTLY, BECAUSE OF MY EXCESSES, SUZANNE WON'T LET ME HAVE ANY OF THE STORE-BOUGHT VARIETY, UNLESS IT HAS BEEN REDUCED IN ALL THE SPECIAL INGREDIENTS THAT MAKES A SAUCE, A GENUINE BARBECUE SAUCE. I DON'T CONSUME FACSIMILE PRODUCTS. SO GETTING A HOLD OF THE JOHNNY WINTER SAUCE BROUGHT BACK SOME BAD HABITS OF OVER INDULGENCE. HERE'S HOW I BEGAN CHASING THE DRAGON, "BARBECUE SAUCE."
IT WAS AROUND CHRISTMAS ONE YEAR, WHILE I WAS EDITOR OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, IN BRACEBRIDGE, THAT WE GOT A LITTLE SURPRISE LEFT OFF IN OUR NEWSROOM. THE FRONT DESK CLERK, BUZZED THE NEWSROOM, TO ASK FOR SOME ASSISTANCE, BRINGING A HEAVY CARTON UPSTAIRS. I THINK BRANT SCOTT WENT DOWN TO SEE WHAT THE FUSS WAS ALL ABOUT. HE WAS DOWNSTAIRS FOR AWHILE, CONSULTING WITH THE PERSON RESPONSIBLE FOR BRINGING THE BOX TO OUR DOMINION STREET OFFICE. WHEN HE ARRIVED BACK IN THE NEWSROOM, WITH THIS BIG BOX IN HIS OUTSTRETCHED ARMS, HE SAID, IN A VERY LOUD VOICE, "TEEDER, (IT'S WHAT HE CALLED ME IN THE NEWSROOM AND WHEN WE PLAYED HOCKEY FOR THE RINK RATS). WE GOT AN EARLY CHRISTMAS PRESENT." "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? WHAT'S IN THE BOX." "A LITTLE HEAVEN ON EARTH, MAN," SOUNDING A LITTLE LIKE DENNIS HOPPER, FROM THE MOVIE "EASY RIDER." HE HANDED ME A PRINT-OUT THAT WAS ON THE TOP OF THE BOX. "IT'S A BOX OF 24 BOTTLES OF BARBECUE SAUCE," HE CHORTLED. "WE CAN EAT THIS CHRISTMAS. I MEAN DRINK." HE SET DOWN THE BOX AT HIS DESK, OPENED IT UP, AND THERE WERE TWO DOZEN AVERAGE SIZED BOTTLES OF A NEWLY RELEASED BARBECUE SAUCE. I WON'T NAME THE PRODUCT BECAUSE THAT WOULDN'T BE FAIR. IT'S STILL OUT THERE, AND IT'S THE ONE I'M MOST LIKELY TO PURCHASE, WHEN SUZANNE FEELS IT'S SAFE FOR ME TO HAVE A LITTLE TREAT AT DINNER.
"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH IT ALL," I ASKED, WHILE BRANT WAS EXAMINING A BOTTLE, PREPARING TO OPEN ONE FOR A TASTE. WE LOOKED AT EACH OTHER, AND ALTHOUGH WE WERE BOTH GENEROUS BLOKES, WE WERE ALSO QUITE BROKE AT THE TIME; AND SEEING AS THIS WAS KIND OF A CHRISTMAS GIFT INTENDED FOR THE NEWSROOM, (OR SO WE ASSUMED) FOR A CRITICAL REVIEW IN THE HERALD-GAZETTE, IT SEEMED APPROPRIATE TO BASE THE CRITIQUE AFTER CONSUMING ALL THE SAUCE. NOT JUST A FEW BOTTLES. I MEAN WE HAD TO BASE IT ON THE CONTEXT OF WHAT WE WERE GIVEN TO SAMPLE. ALL THE BOTTLES IN THE BOX. WE CALCULATED THAT IF WE WERE CAREFUL, WE COULD MAKE THE SAUCE LAST FOR MOST OF THE WINTER SEASON. THERE WERE A FEW MOMENTS OF GREED, AND CORRESPONDING SHAME. WE DEALT WITH THE SHAME WHILE POURING SOME OF THE BOTTLE INTO OUR EMPTY COFFEE CUPS, AND SUCKING IT BACK. GOSH IT WAS GOOD STUFF.
SHOULD WE HIDE THE BOX? HOW MANY STAFF MEMBERS KNEW WHAT WE GOT IN THE BOX? WE KNEW THE FRONT DESK SECRETARY DID, AND SURE ENOUGH, SHE WAS UP A FEW MINUTES LATER, TO CHECK ON THE PAYOLLA WE GOT, PRESUMABLY TO WRITE A GREAT REVIEW OF THE NEW PRODUCT. "HOW MANY BOTTLES DID YOU GUYS GET," SHE ASKED, TRYING TO SEE PAST BRANT, INTO THE HALF OPEN BOX. "THIS ONE," BRANT SAID, HOLDING UP WHAT WAS NOW A HALF-FULL BOTTLE. "COME ON YOU GUYS," SHE REPLIED. "YOU GOT AT LEAST A DOZEN IN THE BOX. GIVE ME ONE AT LEAST." WE GAVE HER THREE, AND TOLD HER TO KEEP QUIET ABOUT THE REMAINDER. SHE BARGAINED THAT HER SILENCE SHOULD BE WORTH AT LEAST FIVE BOTTLES. WELL, SHE HAD HER FINGERS CROSSED, WHEN SHE PROMISED THIS, AND BEFORE LONG, THERE WAS A LINE-UP FOR THE SAUCE, AND BRANT AND I WINCED AS THE RESERVE BEGAN DWINDLING DOWN TO A DOZEN LEFT. WITHOUT A TRACE OF SHAME, WE HID A DOZEN ALL OVER THE OFFICE AND UNDER OUR DESKS. WHENEVER WE GOT "OWLIE" WHICH MEANT BEING STRESSED-OUT BY THE DEMANDS OF THE PUBLISHER, WE'D WHIP OUT A BOTTLE OF RIB SAUCE AND AFTER AFEW SWIGS, WE'D BE BACK IN THE SWING OF THINGS. WE JUST SMELLED LIKE GARLIC. EVERY DAY.
WE WERE LITERALLY DRINKING BARBECUE SAUCE, TO SATISFY OUR HUNGER PANGS. WE DIDN'T HAVE STEAK OR RIBS BUT THAT DIDN'T MATTER ONE BIT. WE DRANK THE SAUCE RIGHT OUT OF THE BOTTLE. IT WAS THE BEST LEAD-UP TO CHRISTMAS I THINK I'VE EVER HAD. PUT ON ABOUT FIVE POUNDS, DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL TO THE SIX BOTTLES I CONSUMED PERSONALLY. BRANT TRIED TO MIX IT WITH A SHOT OF RYE BUT THAT DIDN'T WORK OUT SO WELL. "YOU'VE GOT MORE OF THAT BARBECUE SAUCE DON'T YOU," ANOTHER STAFF MEMBER GRILLED US, ONE PRESS DAY, WHEN EVERYBODY WAS IN A BAD MOOD AND HUNGRY. "YOU'VE GOT BARBECUE SAUCE BREATH MR. CURRIE. I WANT SOME." "DRANK THE LAST DROP AN HOUR AGO, SORRY," I RESPONDED, KNOWING FULL WELL I HAD ANOTHER TWO BOTTLES STASHED IN MY CAMERA BAG. ACTUALLY, THAT BROUGHT ABOUT ANOTHER DEBACLE, BECAUSE I FORGOT ABOUT THEM, AND WENT TO COVER AN OUTDOOR EVENT, IN THE THROES OF A BITTER EVENING. THE BOTTLES FROZE, AND ONE EXPANDED, SUCH THAT IT BLEW OFF THE LID. IT TOOK ME WEEKS TO RESTORE MY CAMERA EQUIPMENT AND DRY OUT MY CASE. I SALVAGED WHAT WAS LEFT, BUT IT ALWAYS SEEMED THAT GOD HAD REMINDED ME, IN A SPECIAL WAY, ABOUT SHARING, ESPECIALLY DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON.
WHAT FOLLOWED AFTER THE BARBECUE SAUCE INCIDENT, WHICH STRETCHED OVER TWO WEEKS, WAS THAT I BECAME ADDICTED. AND AS A SINGLE FELLOW, WHO COULDN'T BOIL WATER WITHOUT DESTROYING A POT, I OPTED FOR BARBECUE SAUCE, AS A VEGETABLE SIDE DISH, UNTIL I GOT MARRIED, AND WAS CUT-OFF THE STUFF, BY MY NEW NUTRITIONIST WIFE; THEN SENSIBLY REPLACED BY ACTUAL VEGETABLES YOU COULDN'T DRINK OUT OF A BOTTLE. I STILL GET WEIRD WHEN I GO TO THE GROCERY STORE, AND PASS THE AISLE WITH THE BARBECUE SAUCE SECTION. THAT'S WHY, WHEN ANDREW BROUGHT HOME THE JOHNNY WINTER BRAND, I LOST MY MARBLES, AND CONVINCED THE POOR LITTLE FELLOW, THAT IT WOULD ONLY GO BAD, IF WE JUST LET IT SIT ON A SHELF. JOHNNY WOULDN'T HAVE WANTED HIS CREATION TO BE AN ORNAMENT ON A SHELF OVER THE STOVE. SO ROBERT AND I GOT HIS APPROVAL TO OPEN THE SAUCE, AND WE'VE BEEN MAKING REGULAR RAIDS ON IT IN THE FRIDGE. ANDREW HAS BEEN MEASURING IT TO SEE IF HE'S GETTING A FAIR SHAKE, CONSIDERING IT WAS A GIFT TO HIM. ANDREW IS NOT BIG ON BARBECUE SAUCE IN THE FIRST PLACE. HE WAS JUST A GOOD FRIEND OF JOHNNY WINTER.
WELL, THAT'S MY CHRISTMAS STORY AND I'M STICKING TO IT. YOU KNOW, WE CONSUMED ALL THE BARBECUE SAUCE BACK IN THOSE HALCYON DAYS AT THE HERALD-GAZETTE, AND NEVER DID WRITE THE REVIEW FOR THE COMPANY. WE WERE DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS! BOUNDERS! BUT IN A FAIR AND HONEST PRESS, THE REVIEW WOULD HAVE CLEARLY BEEN A BIASED PIECE, BECAUSE WE HAD NOT ONLY ACCEPTED THE GIFT, BUT ALSO ENJOYED IT TO THE LAST DROP. SEEING AS WE PRIDED OURSELVES ON BEING UNBIASED, WE JUST THOUGHT IT BEST TO REFRAIN FROM COMMENTING; THAT AND THE FACT EVERYONE IN OUR BUILDING WOULD HAVE KNOWN WE WERE HOARDING A CASE THAT WAS INTENDED FOR US ALL. IT WAS MY TIME OF PERSONAL WEAKNESS, AND BELIEVE ME, I FELT LIKE SCROOGE, WITH EVERY SPOON-FULL I CONSUMED. IT BECAME EASIER TO BE SCROOGE, AS THE SAUCE BECAME MORE TANTALIZING EACH DAY.
I STILL SUFFER FROM SELF LOATHING, EVERY TIME I LINGER AT THE FRIDGE, WITH SPOON IN HAND, STEALING SOME MORE OF ANDREW'S KEEPSAKE SAUCE, KEPT FOR POSTERITY. THANK YOU JOHNNY WINTER.
CHRISTMAS IN MUSKOKA - DO YOU HAVE A VERY, VERY, VINTAGE HORNER IN YOUR GARAGE? NO, NOT AN ACCORDIAN!
SNOWMOBILE RAN IN SOUTH MUSKOKA AT LEAST NINETY YEARS AGO - THE "HORNER AUTO SLEIGH"
LEAVE IT TO REDMOND THOMAS TO COME UP WITH NEAT STORIES ABOUT OUR PAST. ONE OF THE BEST BOOK INVESTMENTS I'VE MADE, IN REGIONAL HISTORY, WAS TO RE-ACQUIRE THE LONG-OUT-OF-PRINT, REDMOND THOMAS REGIONAL HISTORY, ENTITLED "REMINISCENCES," A BRACEBRIDGE COLLECTION OF STORIES, THAT ARE VERY MUCH, THE MODEST BUT UNIQUE ARCHIVES OF OUR FOLK HISTORY IN THESE PARTS. OUTSIDE OF THE BOOKS WRITTEN BY BERT SHEA, ABOUT WATT TOWNSHIP IN PIONEER TIMES, AND THE SHEA AND VEITCH FAMILY CHRONICLES, REDMOND'S BOOK IS MY MOST REFERRED TO, OF ALL MY MUSKOKA ARCHIVE HISTORIES. TAKE FOR EXAMPLE, THE STORY OF MR. HORNER, AND HIS MOTORIZED CONTRAPTION, THAT LOOKED LIKE A SLED, BUT MOVED LIKE A HORSELESS CARRIAGE, BUT ON TOP OF THE SNOW. IF YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE ONE OF THESE FORERUNNERS OF THE MODERN SNOWMOBILE, WELL, YOU'VE GOT A VALUABLE RELIC OF NOT ONLY MUSKOKA HISTORY, BUT CANADIAN TRANSPORTATION HERITAGE. NOW, IN THE WORDS OF REDMOND THOMAS, Q.C., A FORMER COLUMNIST FOR THE BRACEBRIDGE-GAZETTE, OWNED BY HIS FATHER, G.H.O. THOMAS. (THE BOOK, BY THE WAY, WAS PUBLISHED BY THE HERALD-GAZETTE, BY FORMER EMPLOYER, AND IT WAS INTRODUCED TO THE READER, BY MY GOOD FRIEND AND FORMER BOSS, ROBERT BOYER. THE TWO PAPERS, ONE BEING THE BOYER FAMILY'S "BRACEBRIDGE HERALD," MERGED IN THE 1950'S, TO MAKE "THE HERALD-GAZETTE." REDMOND HAD WORKED AS A COLUMNIST FOR MR. BOYER'S PAPER, AT THE TIME THE BOOK WAS PUBLISHED. IN CASE YOU WOULD LIKE A COPY OF YOUR OWN, YOU CAN SEARCH THE LISTING OF THE ANTIQUARIAN AND OUT OF PRINT BOOK COLLECTIVE, THE ADVANCE BOOK EXCHANGE (ABE) ONLINE, AND CONDUCT AS SEARCH FOR "REMINISCENCES," BEING OFFERED BY MEMBER DEALERS. IT'S WHERE I BUY MOST OF MY VINTAGE MUSKOKA HISTORIES. YOU MIGHT HAVE TO WAIT AWHILE, BUT THEY DO TURN UP QUITE REGULARLY.)
"As in recent winters (circa 1969) the modern snowmobile has come into popularity here, it may interest some readers, who did not live in Bracebridge, at least forty-five years ago (1920's), if I mention that as far back as those times, there was running in Bracebridge, a vehicle powered by a gasoline engine, and designed for winter-time cross-country travel, and which today would be called a snowmobile; though originally the word 'snowmobile' had a different meaning from its present one. The word was first applied to a single seat closed motor vehicle, having at its front a pair of runners, and its back four wheels equipped with endless belts, and which was used on the roads in the winters, before regular snowplowing kept them open for ordinary motor vehicles," wrote Mr. Thomas, in his regular column of January 23, 1969.
"Frank Gilbert Horner, though still in his prime, had retired in ample financial circumstances, after having been engaged in gold mining in Alaska. It seems to me that he hailed from some place in one of the Northwestern states, probably Washington, which is the state immediately south of British Columbia; and I have forgotten how he came to choose Bracebridge as a place of residence. In the early 1920's he purchased the old Sheriff Bettes place. Its extensive grounds ran from McMurray Street, westward to John Street and from Hamilton Street northward to the schoolyard of old Central School, where the public school now is. On those grounds stood an elegant big, old style residence facing toward McMurray Street, but far back from the sidewalk along which stood a high cedar hedge; behind the house the was small barn."
Judge Thomas recalled that, "When snow was on the ground, Mr. Horner used to occupy his time by designing and testing what would today be called a snowmobile but which he called an auto sleigh. As well as I can remember it, the vehicle was a sort of cross between a sled and toboggan, and had at its gasoline engine at the back; it was about a dozen feet long and at its front there was a freely revolving circular rudder, which was very much similar in appearance, to one of the very big disk wheels which were the height of style, on the biggest automobiles in those days, when cars had very much higher clearances than now, in spite of the small old-time high pressure tires. Those are the chief details remembered by me.
"On the only occasion that I saw it really under way, the auto sleigh seemed, to me, to be running perfectly. But as Mr. Horner was not satisfied with its all-round performance, he had not put it on the market. His concern that the vehicle be available for cross-country travel, under every conceivable condition of snow and weather, will be appreciated, if it is borne in mind, that the auto sleigh was basically intended to replace dog-sled transportation, in many parts of Alaska, the Yukon Territory, and the North West Territories. The last running of the Horner auto sleigh here, could not have been later than the winter of 1923-24, as according to an old ledger of mine, it was in the following January (1925) that I drew, for Mr. Horner, the deed by which he sold the old Sheriff Bettes place, and he was then residing in Timmins. Snowmobiles are not new, just numerous, and nice!"
THE OTHER MOST RELIABLE MEANS OF WINTER-TIME TRAVEL - THE HORSE-DRAWN SLEIGH IN THE SNOWY CLIME OF SOUTH MUSKOKA
"Freight traffic on Bracebridge streets, in winter-time, was much heavier than in present-day winters; even though the town's population was not quite as big as it is now (1969). Nearly all the fuel used in houses, stores and offices was wood, requiring many sleighs. Many loads of ice for ice houses (commercial and private) were hauled from the river beside River Street, where they were cut in those days, when there was no electric refrigeration. Far more stores had delivery sleighs than now have motor trucks. Great loads of bark went to the Old Tannery (Muskoka Leather Company) in the Hollow, and the New Tannery, (Anglo-Canadian Leather Company) in the 4th ward. Three of the important industries, Bird's Woollen Mill, Dominion Linen Mill, and Old Tannery, had no railroad switch. So on sleighs went all their freight, to and from the Grand Trunk Railway Station. The Old Tannery had so many teams, going to and from the railroad yards, that at almost any time in the day, one could see one of its huge sleighs hauled by a team of beautiful big horses. There were so many of those horses, that in the Old Tannery yards, there was a stable covering a big area of ground, and it was double-decked. In addition to the foregoing there was hauled on sleighs ample goods, for the stores; and coal was hauled from the G.T.R. freight shed, and yards, by sleighs owned by stores or carters. The only big commodities of which I can think that are now carried by motor truck, but were not hauled by sleigh, are gasoline fuel oil and saw-logs. The logs for each of the old sawmills here, were floated down whichever branch of the river ran past the mill," writes Redmond Thomas, about the necessity of horse power the old fashioned way.
He continues, by noting, "But passenger traffic was very much lighter. Few people owned a driving horse, or (for a trip within the town) would hire a rig from a livery stable. There was nothing corresponding to the present day school bus. Nor (except the bus from the railroad station) was there anything equivalent to the present-day taxi, for trips with the town; but for a trip out of town, a rig (with or without a driver) could be hired at a livery stable. The roadways of the streets were not snowplowed and were kept open by only the traffic on them; except that in the Downtown business section, the roadway on Manitoba Street was kept hand-shoveled for absolutely its whole width, between the outer edges of the sidewalks. There were no snowbanks along the sidewalks like there were in business sections in other towns. Even though the Downtown roadway was narrower than it now is (because each sidewalk was very much wider than at present), it was a great task to keep it snow-shoveled by hand, and keep the snow from it hauled away on sleighs to the river.
"Sleighs were for freight passengers or both. All (except a bus mentioned later) were open. Some were hauled by one horse, others by a team. All were driven fro the right-hand side. Runners on opposite sides of a sleigh were closer together than wheels on opposite sides of a summer-time wheeled vehicle. Sleigh bells were required by law; most were strings of small globular bells buckled around the horse but some were larger bells, much like cowbells, fastened to the shafts of a sleigh. Freight sleighs (and the bigger passenger sleighs) were bob-sleighs; they had two sets of runners of which the front set was pivoted. The freight sleighs were of considerable variety, ranging from very heavy ones for heavy loads, to light ones such as used for store-delivery rigs. The floor of some had no sides and back but not top. The big sleighs had at the back end of each of the rear runners, a dog; namely a hinged big spike which could be swung down, and tramped into the road, to hold the sleigh on a hill, while the horses got a breather."
The columnist writes that "Passenger sleighs were of several varieties. The kind for fast travel was the cutter. It had one pair of runners. Most cutters had just one seat but some had two, and the latter varied among themselves inasmuch as though, almost all had the back seat facing forward, there was a type having the seats back to back. Though most cutters had high spindly runners there was a kind called a Quebec cutter, which was built low-set and had solid runners.
"Meeting such four of the G.T.R. passenger trains as arrived in daytime, there was a bus which was a bobsleigh with a fully inclosed body, resembling that of a small street car. It would take a customer to any place in the town, upon payment of a small fare. The passengers used a door in the back of the vehicle, and occupied long seats whose backs ran along the sides of the bus, the two seats facing each other across a narrow aisle. The driver sat outdoors on a seat across the very front of the bus. For groups of people wanting to go elsewhere that from the railroad station, there was a kind of bus like the one just mentioned, except that its body was fully open. There was a dual-purpose small sleigh, called a jumper, which was light, sturdy, and low-set and had only one pair of runners. It was a dandy for getting over drifted roads. The jumper could be used for passengers or light freight or both together, like the station wagon of today. The foregoing does not deal with all the kinds of sleighs, but enough of them to give the highlights of their era. The station bus described was the elegant replacement of a plainer one which I remember. Winter traffic in the old days was slow but picturesque."
Got to go folks. There's barbecue sauce beckoning. I'm going on the wagon in 2015. I hate myself, but I'll get over it!
From the Archives
THE STUFF WE FIND IN THE BOXES OF VINTAGE VINYL? SUPER TERRIFIC! OR A LITTLE CRAZY?
HE LET'S ME LISTEN TO SOME OF MY OLD FAVORITES - YES, LIKE "MALTON AND HAMILTON HOLDING THEIR OWN"
WE OFTEN ACQUIRE, IN BULK VINTAGE VINYL PURCHASES. LATER IN THIS BLOG, I'LL OFFER AN EXPLANATION, WHY I FOUND THEIR WORK STRESS-RELIEVING, AND ANOTHER REASON WHY I HAVE ALWAYS SOUGHT OUT COMEDY, AND MUSIC, TO HEAL THE BATTERED SOUL. THE FINAL SEGMENT, OF THE CLIP, IS WORTH THE WAIT. YOU WON'T BELIEVE HOW GOOD THESE GUYS WERE AT MAKING MUSIC WITH FOUND INSTRUMENTS.....FROM A BICYCLE REPAIR SHOP. TO ME, AT LEAST, IT IS ONE OF THE FUNNIEST CANADIAN COMEDY CLIPS I HAVE EVER SEEN. BUT THEN, I AM A RATHER ODD CHAP, AND I ACTUALLY OWNED A SUIT THAT LOOKED A LOT LIKE THE ONES THEY'RE WEARING ON THE RECORD SLEEVE. WHICH SOMEWHAT EXPLAINS WHY I NEVER GOT INVITED TO FORMAL OCCASIONS.
FIRST OF ALL, I ENJOYED THE WORK OF THE CANADIAN COMEDY TEAM OF MALTON AND HAMILTON, BECAUSE, AT THE TIME, I NEEDED THEM. I'LL EXPLAIN LATER. IN THE 1970'S AND 1980'S, WHEN WE'D CATCH THEIR ACTS AT ONE OF THE LOCAL HOTELS, (AND WE THOUGHT WE WERE RAUNCHY), WE'D EVEN WINCE AT SOME OF THEIR MATERIAL. THAT WAS THEIR MISSION STATEMENT. HUMOUR BY INTIMIDATION. HOW TOUGH WERE THEY? IT WAS URBAN LEGEND, THAT MALTON AND HAMILTON COULD MAKE YOU PEE YOUR PANTS. WHY? PATRONS WERE SO NERVOUS OF BEING SINGLED OUT, AND MADE FUN-OF, THAT THEY WOULDN'T GO TO THE LOUNGE WASHROOMS UNTIL INTERMISSION. IT WASN'T JUST THAT THE AUDIENCE WAS BEING POLITE, AND WAITING FOR ONE, OF ABOUT FOUR BRIEF INTERMISSIONS, TO RELIEVE THEMSELVES. YOU WOULDN'T HAVE BELIEVED THE PANIC GETTING TO THE BATHROOM, BEFORE THE MASS OF HOPPING, CROSS-LEGGED TAVERN-GOERS, TRYING TO GET THROUGH THAT SWINGING DOOR IN TIME. TO SUGGEST THAT SOME PATRONS IN PAIN, USED THE SINKS INSTEAD, WOULDN'T BE A MISTRUTH. IT DIDN'T MATTER WHO YOU WERE, IF YOU GOT UP DURING THEIR SHOW, BECAUSE YOU WERE GOING TO GET IT! IF YOU HAD, WHAT THEY THOUGHT WAS A FUNNY HAIRCUT, OR A LOUD SWEATER, CORDUROY PANTS, OR HAIRY ARMS, THEY'D BE ALL OVER YOU LIKE A FUNGUS; AND IF YOU BLUSHED EASILY.....WELL, THEY'D MAKE FUN OF THAT AS WELL. WERE THEY POLITICALLY CORRECT? DID THEY MAKE CULTURALLY SENSITIVE REFERENCES? SEXIST? USE POTTY REFERENCES TO EXCESS? MAKE FUN OF NEWFOUNDLANDERS? ASIANS? THOSE OF POLISH ANCESTRY? IT WAS THEIR ACT. BUT WE HAD ALREADY BEEN EXPOSED TO ARCHIE BUNKER, THE LESS THAN POLITICALLY CORRECT LABOURER, FROM THE HIT TELEVISION SHOW, "ALL IN THE FAMILY." NOT THAT THIS GAVE MALTON AND HAMILTON FUEL FOR THEIR MULE, BUT BY TIME WE'D BE SITTING IN THE FRONT ROW, MOST OF THE MATERIAL HAD BEEN HEARD BEFORE. JUST NOT WITH THEIR PATENTED LOUNGE LIZARD-STYLE, MACHINE-GUN, RAPID FIRE REPERTOIRE, THAT BY ITSELF, MADE FUN OF EVERY COMEDIAN WHO EVER SET FOOT IN A HOTEL, OR SMOKE-FILLED LOUNGE ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD, WHERE, WITH COMFORTABLE FAMILIARITY, YOU STUCK TO THE FLOOR ON THE DRIED REMAINS OF LAST NIGHT'S TOPPLED, AND SLOSHED JUG OF BEER.
THEY WERE A PARODY OF THEIR OWN PROFESSION, AND WHEN YOU LOOK AT THE COVER OF THE RECORD, ROBERT GAVE ME THIS MORNING, THE MAROON TUXEDOS KIND OF GIVE IT AWAY.....IF THE HANDS IN THE POCKETS DON'T. WHEN I HEAR THEM NOW, I HAVE A VERY DIFFERENT IMPRESSION, THAN I DID, AS A STARVING WRITER, WORKING IN THE COMMUNITY PRESS. BACK IN THE EARLY 1980'S, LIKE PAUL RIMSTEAD'S DAILY COLUMN, MALTON AND HAMILTON'S ACT CHEERED US UP, FROM A JOB WE OFTEN DESPISED BECAUSE OF THE EMOTIONAL CHALLENGES. THIS MORNING, LISTENING TO THEM OVER COFFEE, IT SEEMED IN ESSENCE, AS IF THEY WERE MAKING FUN OF THEIR OWN ROLE, IN THE ENTERTAINMENT BUSINESS; AND EVERY STAND-UP COMEDIAN IN HISTORY, WHO HAD TO BREAK GROUND IN BARS WHERE ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN, AND LEARNING HOW TO DUCK, BOBB AND WEAVE, FROM FLYING BEER BOTTLES, WAS PART OF STANDARD TRAINING.....LIKE A BOXER OR A GOALTENDER. I ACTUALLY STARTED THINKING ABOUT COMEDIAN ANDY KAUFMAN'S, TACKY-TO-A-FAULT, LOUD, ABUSIVE CHARACTER, LOUNGE LIZARD, "TONY CLIFTON," (MOVIE "MAN ON THE MOON," WITH JIM CAREY). FROM AROUND THE SAME TIME PERIOD, AS KAUFMAN WAS USING CLIFTON IN HIS ACT, MALTON AND HAMILTON WERE DOING ROUGHLY THE SAME THING, BUT WITH MUSICAL COMEDY....AND THEMSELVES. I NEVER GOLFED WITH THEM, OR WENT FISHING, BUT I'M ASSUMING THEY DIDN'T ACT LIKE THIS OUT OF CLASS. AS YOU DIDN'T PISS OFF CLIFTON, YOU CERTAINLY DIDN'T DO IT TO "TWICE-THE-STRENGTH" MALTON AND HAMILTON, WHICH BY THE WAY, WAS KNOWN AS CANADA'S NUMBER ONE COMEDY TEAM. I DON'T KNOW IF THIS WAS TRUE, BUT IT'S WHAT WAS PRINTED ONTO THE COVER OF THEIR RECORD ALBUM. BUT I'LL TELL YOU ONE THING; THEY HAD A WAY OF CAPTURING THE ATTENTION OF THEIR AUDIENCE THAT WAS REMARKABLE. FLEDGLING COMEDIANS WOULD BE WELL SERVED, TO CHECK THEM OUT, BECAUSE THEY OWNED THE BELL OF OLD SCHOOL COMEDY.
MIKE HAMILTON AND WAYNE MALTON, HAD A WAY.....AND IT WORKED FOR ME
Every time I drive up or down what we used to call the Albion Expressway, which was the extension they made of Main Street, in Bracebridge, between Toronto Street and Anne Street, I always look at the hollow of urban landscape, which for some time was marked by a weave of tarpaulins, covering the brick of the collapsed historic hotel, "The Albion." Formerly one of Bracebridge's oldest buildings, I think it was Leishman's at one time; located across from the original Bracebridge Train Station. It had been considered a potential for restoration, some years back, until its weary bones finally gave out. While I'm sorry to recall Malton and Hamilton this way, I can't really reference the Albion Hotel, in Bracebridge, without making comment about being old and decapitated. The last time I went to one of their shows, was in the bosom of the landmark hotel by the train tracks, where tacky was good, and the jugs of beer were cold and cheap. I didn't take the time to count the bricks, but where they used to stage their show, was a literal crypt of building materials, from nails, Muskoka pine, to plaster. If there was a trace echo of those brilliant acts, it would have been a muffled one, in this new-century reality for the Albion Hotel. We all have to flatten out at some point.
When Robert asked if I had ever heard of this comedy duo, as he held up their record, found in a dusty box of attic treasures, brought into our shop, I was speechless. "It's even signed on the back, by Mike Hamilton," one of the dynamic duo. It was a stormy winter morning, and I asked if he would mind putting it on his turnable (he's a fraction-off being a full fledged audiophile, so cleanliness is indeed Godliness). So after a long period of study, and cleaning, he put the record on, and you know, for the first time this winter, I forgot about the weight and depth of snow on the roof of the house. I worry a lot about snow-load, as I don't want to wake up in a bed of ice splinters, and woodwork. For those few moments, I was back in the old tavern, jammed together with hundreds of other "hungry for entertainment" patrons, wishing to be abused, poked, and prodded by the stylings of two lads living the life. I think they liked their work. I hope they did.
I remember the first time I saw them in Bracebridge; my colleague in weekly newspaper reporting, Brant Scott, told me he was "buying" at what we called our "press club," and the treat of the evening, over and above watching the fights that broke out around us, was that Malton and Hamilton were in town.....and he knew more about them than I did. That day, that week, that month, had been burdensome like no other in the local news game....which city reporters would claim was soft compared to their assignments. There had been fatal car accidents, house fires, coverage of sick youngsters needing financial assistance, to pay for treatment, the usual depressing court coverage of crime, and the mundane study of local municipal councils, and the Board of Education. On that day, although it is a tad cloudy, we were looking to be elevated from what had become a drudgery. I hated getting the call to cover an accident scene, and especially if there were casualties. If I there was one reason I wanted to quit being a reporter, it was having to visit these horrific scenes. In our coverage areas, where we have a lot of high-traffic two lane highways, especially during the summer months, we might have received three calls each day, to chase the ambulances. We ran a scanner in the office, which I came to detest. But it was news. We had a responsibility to report on local happenings, not just the usual grip and grin photographs we buried inside the paper. While it may seem ridiculous to some, that reporters could suffer from post traumatic stress disorder, as might first responders, there were times we were on the scene so speedily, we beat the fire department and responding police officers. One of our reporters-photographers, John Black, used to have traffic flares in the trunk of his car, if he was one of the early ones to arrive at an accident. We would help wherever we could, and if asked, direct traffic if it was required. But what we saw in that twisted metal, did stick with us after we got home. On the occasion of Malton and Hamilton's visit, later that day, their show had a very liberating affect I've never forgotten. I don't know why everyone else was jammed into that lounge, but for us, it was a temporary relief to go with the beer on tap. As Brant told me about their act, and not wanting to get singled out, I probably consumed only a few glasses of beer during their acts, to manage trips to the washroom.
I have been thinking back to those days a lot, during the past year, but I'm not really sure why. I left active, day to day reporting in the early 1990's, after eleven years in the front line. I stood on the spot where a Huntsville based police officer was fatally shot, only a few hours after his death, and thought about penning a note of resignation when I got back to the office. I wasn't cut out for this work. I didn't mind reporting on local council, but I wasn't handling the tragic occurrences very well. But I didn't have a plan B. I could hardly pay rent as it was, and I know I was drinking way too much for my own good. This isn't a revelation about a couple of wild-eyed, garishly dressed comedians, saving my sanity, or leading me to another seven or so years in the same profession. I think they imprinted pretty heavily on me, the genuine need for comedy in my life, and the very real relevance, of laughing out loud at life itself. Life is guaranteed to have these tough moments, so better get used to them. I can remember almost choking myself to death, inhaling that cold beer, and pretzel dust, laughing at their jokes. Brant had to hit me so hard on the back, I almost lost consciousness from the blow, moreso than from what was now deep in my lungs. Malton and Hamilton made fun of my gagging, and I loved it. They may have even referenced our group of beer-swilling newsies, as members of the Klan or something like that, but we laughed with them. We sure weren't bashful but son of a gun, could they ever make us blush.
I remember being at a fatal head-on collision, on Highway 118, just out of town, with Brant, and him whispering to me, camera in hand, "Ted.....move your feet back." He said it at least three times, while I was trying to focus my camera. "All right, all right," I answered, and stepped back, expecting he knew what was best. He did. It was the first time in my life that I had blood on my shoes. To war correspondents, and big city news hounds, this wasn't earth shattering. For me, it was! Especially when Brant and I knew both victims. That was the other part of being a small town reporter. The so-called bad side. It was a long way from reporting on the events of the Horticultural Society, or on the opening of a new variety store. We knew a lot of people, and chances were, one day, it was going to happen....., that it would be violently imposed upon us; this kind of tragic situation we wouldn't be able to dodge emotionally.
It seems like an awful weight of responsibility, to put on the shoulders of two comedians, enjoying a gig at the local watering hole. I didn't tell them about my burdens. But over their several night stand, I let it all hang out, I'm telling you. I laughed until I peed my own pants, and by golly, I think my laughter made them pee their pants. A lot of laundry was inspired by their stay in our fair town.
We didn't seek mental-health assistance, after seeing tragedy unfold. We didn't have a clue what PTSD was, and even if we had known, we couldn't have limited our exposure any way.....like the first responders, it was our responsibility to present the whole news....as grim as that was at times. Town size has never had anything to do, with the severity of the emergencies within and around. As we suffered the other reality, of being of poor-income, and not having a lot of "mad" money, to pay for entertainment, Malton and Hamilton used to come-in on budget.....explaining why we had front row seats, every time they played the local Albion. What they did for the others in those crammed quarters? It took them away from pressing realities, for a short period of time. I'm just speculating about this, but I sort of think beer sales may have been down on those nights, because the show was too good, to miss any of it, due to intoxication. Bet they could have used that line as a show promotion. Less profitable for the hotels, but they sold lots of chips and pretzels.
I'm not really sure why I've been doing so many retrospectives of my newspaper days, over the past year. I left them abruptly in the early nineties, after a spat with a publisher, and decided to stick with freelance writing instead.....and of course, the antique trade. I wonder now, if it was the lingering issue, of never achieving closure from a short, but action-packed career....that possibly I hadn't want to leave in the first place. It did take years to adjust. I don't have nightmares or suffer panic attacks, or really anything I could call the impact of PTSD. As for reporting flashbacks, I live with them daily. A lot of people live with these recollections of tragic events. That's life. But for me, if I could laugh, that was oh so much better than crying.
As a reporter in re-training, I'm pretty rusty, so forgive my rigidity, as I try to reclaim some of the mojo I used to have, interviewing artists and politicians, athletes and celebrities. I'll write a piece about my interview with former Toronto Maple Leaf veteran, Bob Baun, who made my hand disappear in his.....during an interview back in the early 1980's....but I got to ask him that million dollar question....about scoring a playoff goal while having suffered, a few plays earlier, a broken leg. The writing staff back then enjoyed a lot of special occasions, when we'd be able to get close to celebrity acts. We liked that part of the profession. I was standing so close to the band "Teenage Head," at Bracebridge and Muskoka Lakes Secondary School, that I could have taken a dramatic (maybe not) photo of their finger nails. It's what I thought was a tad close, but that's where I was told to stand. Same thing happened at a Kim Mitchell Concert, when handlers put me in front of his speakers, which was like nothing I had ever experienced, short of standing behind a Snowbird's Tudor jet upon ignition. I actually saw my own heart beating through my compressed chest cavity. I was good, but couldn't honestly claim to my wife for the next week, "Sorry dear, did you say something." I stretched it five of those seven days, because it was fun to mess with her.
But although we didn't treat them as celebrities, and I offer my sincere apology we didn't appreciate their accomplishments, we did do a story about Malton and Hamilton, for an issue of The Herald-Gazette; but I don't remember much about it now. A couple of years ago, I recycled all my back issues. They were just the kind of irreverent blokes we needed back then, and we did call ourselves their fans.
On the web site, you will be able to read their biographies, which are pretty impressive, including the Guinness Book of Records milestone, for most continuous jokes told. These chaps played to large audiences in Canada, and the United States, and I don't know whether or not there is a Canadian Comedians' Hall of Fame, but their names should be enshrined. I'm not sure how they felt about playing to the audiences at the Albion Hotel, in Bracebridge, back then, or if they were hit by any debris I might have been responsible for; but seeing that record I used to own, brought back some neat memories.
They weren't everyones' cup of tea....or bucket of ale, but for us, they afforded us the comic relief we needed, to go another week or so, trying to maintain that freedom of the press thing.....which at times, carried a heavy tax.
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