I Wanted To Buy Paul Rimstead's "Rusty Rita"

THE CAR WITH PROVENANCE THAT GOT AWAY -

THE ACQUISITION THAT WOULD HAVE COMMENCED THE DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS

     ANY ONE WHO HAS READ THIS COLUMN FOR MORE THAN SEVERAL MONTHS, WOULD RECOGNIZE INSTANTLY, (AND POSSIBLY ANNOYINGLY) THAT I WAS A HUGE FAN OF FORMER TORONTO SUN COLUMNIST, PAUL RIMSTEAD. IN HIS HEYDAY HE WAS ALSO A STAR COLUMNIST FOR THE EDMONTON SUN, AND THE CALGARY SUN. HE WAS A BIG DEAL ON PAGE THREE WITH THE SUNSHINE GIRL, IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY. I HAD A NUMBER OF REASONS FOR LIKING RIMSTEAD THAT WENT MILES AND MILES BEYOND THE CONTENT OF HIS DAILY COLUMNS. FIRST OF ALL, HE WAS A LOCAL LAD, HAVING SPENT HIS YOUTH ON A FARM NORTH OF BRACEBRIDGE, IN A HAMLET KNOWN AS "BEATRICE." HE AND HIS SISTER DIANE, PUBLISHED THE "BEATRICE BUGLE," FOR THE FORTY RESIDENTS OF THE RURAL NEIGHBORHOOD.

   RIMSTEAD HATED SCHOOL LIKE I DID, AND WHEN HE WASN'T IN CLASS, HE WAS HUSTLING POOL, SOMETIMES WITH FUTURE NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE GOALTENDER, ROGER CROZIER, (ANOTHER BRACEBRIDGE LAD) IN THE BASEMENT DIGS OF THE OLD A & P, ON MANITOBA STREET, WELL KNOWN AS "JOE'S BILLIARDS." WHEN HE GOT A CHANCE, HE'D STRING FOR ANY NEWSPAPER THAT WOULD HAVE HIM, AND HE ROSE THROUGH THE RANKS OF THE INDUSTRY BECAUSE HE WAS ENTERPRISING, A TOUGH COMPETITOR, AND A TRULY GIFTED WRITER OF HUMAN INTEREST STORIES. AS A STRUGGLING, ALWAYS BROKE NEWSPAPER STAFFER MYSELF, HIS TORONTO SUN COLUMN USED TO KEEP ME SHOWING UP FOR WORK, SUFFERING FOR MY CRAFT, AND GETTING BY WITH LESS MONEY BUT MORE HOPE FOR A BETTER FUTURE…..WHEN COMMON SENSE SUGGESTED PRETTY CLEARLY, IT WAS TIME TO MOVE ON. SNEAKING PORTIONS OF OTHER STAFFER'S LUNCHES, WAS ONE OF THE SIGNS THE JOURNALISM EXPERIENCE WAS INFLICTING UNDUE HARDSHIP. SHORT OF BEGGING, WE FOUND WAYS OF GETTING BY, AND IT REALLY PISSED OFF A LOT OF EMPLOYEES, FINDING ONE HALF OF THEIR SANDWICH MISSING IN ACTION. 

     I REMEMBER READING ONE OF RIMMER'S COLUMNS ABOUT HIS OWN ECONOMIC AND RELATIONSHIP FOIBLES, AND ABOUT HIS OLD CAR, HE CALLED "RUSTY RITA," WHILE SITTING ON THE BACK DECK OF A MAIN STREET APARTMENT. I WAS HALFWAY THROUGH THE COLUMN, LAUGHING TO MYSELF, WHEN I SUCKED BACK A HUGE, AWFUL TASTING MASS OF CONGEALED MILK FROM THE CARTON I'D JUST PURCHASED AT THE CONVENIENCE STORE. I WAS WORKING OFF A HANGOVER, LIKE RIMSTEAD DID MANY TIMES, (EXCEPT HIS WAS HAIR OF THE DOG), AND THIS MOUTHFUL CERTAINLY CONTRIBUTED TO A CLEANSING OF THE SYSTEM. I WAS VOMITTING OUT BACK FOR A GOOD HALF HOUR. GEEZ, I COULD HAVE SAT DOWN AT THAT MOMENT, AND WRITTEN THE BEST COLUMN OF MY LIFE……BUT MY TYPEWRITER RIBBON WAS SHREDDED, AND I DIDN'T HAVE A KEY FOR THE HERALD-GAZETTE OFFICE OVER ON DOMINION STREET.

     AFTER THE AWFUL BOUT, WHICH TURNED ME OFF MILK FOR ABOUT TEN YEARS, I WENT BACK TO READ THE COLUMN FROM THE BEGINNING, AND EVEN FEELING PHYSICALLY ILL, HIS RAGING SELF CRITICISM CHANGED MY FARE COMPLETELY. I THOUGHT, HOW INCREDIBLE, TO BE ABLE TO USE YOUR OWN HUMAN FRAILTIES, TO COMPOSE A COMPELLING COLUMN, TO ENTERTAIN THE MASSES. MOST OF THE PEOPLE READING THAT COLUMN, COULD RELATE TO HIS PROBLEMS…..BECAUSE THEY WERE COMMON MALADIES OF A TAXING ECONOMY, HUGE ONGOING LIVING EXPENSES, AND CHALLENGING MARITAL CHECKS AND BALANCES. CAR REPAIRS? I SPENT MUCH OF MY YOUNG LIFE, NERVOUSLY STARING UP OVER THE COUNTER OF THE LOCAL GARAGE, AS THE MECHANICS DEBATED, AND LAUGHED OUT LOUD, ABOUT THE COST OF REPAIRS ON MY RANGE OF PERIOD CLUNKERS; THAT I ABSOLUTELY REQUIRED TO KEEP MY LOW PAYING JOB. SO HERE'S THE THING. I, LIKE THOUSANDS OF OTHERS, HAD A RARE OPPORTUNITY, TO GET A LITTLE KEEPSAKE OF OUR FAVORITE WRITER, PAUL RIMSTEAD. THE ONLY PROBLEM, FOR THOSE THOUSANDS OF FANS, WAS WHAT TO DO WITH THE HULKING REMAINS OF THE LITERARY CHARIOT, "RUSTY RITA."

     RIMMER HAD WRITTEN ABOUT RUSTY RITA HUNDREDS OF TIMES, IN HIS REGULAR COLUMNS, AND HONESTLY, BECAUSE OF HIS ATTACHMENT OF NAMES TO THE THINGS HE OWNED, LIKE "ANNABELLE THE WONDER HORSE," (THE RACE HORSE HE OWNED WITH SEVERAL BUDDIES), I STARTED NAMING MY CARS, BUT THEY WERE UNPRINTABLE CUSS WORDS I CAME UP WITH, WHILE STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE WITH A SMOKING ENGINE COMPARTMENT. RIMSTEAD'S FAMOUS CAR HAD COME UP FOR SALE, AFTER HIS DEATH, I'M PRETTY SURE IN RETROSPECT, AND I REMEMBER TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW THE HELL I COULD CONVINCE SUZANNE, MY FRUGAL BRIDE, THAT I NEEDED PAUL'S CAR IN MY DRIVEWAY. I NEEDED THAT CAR IN MY LIFE. NOT THAT IT WORKED VERY WELL, BUT JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW MANY COLUMNS, MIGHT HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BY, AND WHILE DRIVING THAT MOTOR VEHICLE, HUMMING DOWN ONTARIO'S HIGHWAYS AND BACKROADS…..MADE ME BELIEVE IT WAS THE ICON OF THE INDUSTRY I'D BEEN QUESTING FOR. THIS CLUNKER OF A CAR, THAT HAD MORE MILES ON IT THAN ANY OTHER VEHICLE ON EARTH OR BEYOND, HAD BEEN A CURIOUS SOURCE OF INSPIRATION, AND BY GOLLY, YOU KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING?

SUZANNE TOLD ME, IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS, SHE WASN'T GOING TO ALLOW RITA TO BECOME A "CARDEN"

     I love my wife dearly, but she has never been a very sensitive spouse, as far as my writing career goes. She'll come in to my office here at Birch Hollow, and "tidy up," whatever she determines is "a mess!" Very few guests have ever made it into this inner sanctum, for a number of reasons. Suzanne won't let people past a certain point in the house, because of my cluttering habits. Even under threat of violence, she would have to disarm a shooter, rather than follow instructions, to let them into my office. Additionally, she has no regard for my safe havens…..my familiar writing icons, sundry talismen, other assorted good luck charms (big, small and ugly), and the friendly chaos that reminds me of the work the night before, and the week before that…..and so on. My favorite poem, for long and long, has been "The Idea of Order at Key West," by Wallace Stevens, and this is the rule of my office. So she says, "Tough…..even Wallace Steven's partner had to straighten out his disorder from time to time." Okay, so you get the point. So how does a former newspaper columnist's car enter into it? Well, I think it was up for auction in Orillia, some how connected to the service station, near Bass Lake, where it was a frequent visitor. Rimmer was notoriously hard on motor vehicles. When he took a hiatus at a Bass Lake cottage, a local service centre got all his business. Rusty Rita was a demanding partner.

     It was a long time ago, so I've forgotten how it all came about, other than it did…..and I spent a crazy 48 hours trying to convince my partner, that I needed Rimstead's car, in order to fulfill my writing capabilities. Well, you know, suffice to say, I tried every argument on the good woman, and nothing worked. Not even crying. It didn't work for me as a kid either. Merle would actually hit me, and command that I stop crying. Suzanne, having a softer touch, consoled me on the matter, but said she knew what happened when I got bored with my toys. She could see Rimmer's old car, being gradually consumed by the earth in our yard, and turned into what we call, here in Muskoka, "Cardens," which are old abandoned cars that begin to grow with seasonal plants…..with time and neglect. I was indignant. I would never have allowed that storied car, important to readers all over Canada, to be overtaken by nature. I would sit in it every day, with my pad and pen…..maybe even my typewriter, and compose columns for the local press. What a great angle. It would be big. "Local Muskoka columnist uses Paul Rimstead's former car as unique office space!" Tell me this wouldn't have been neat? Suzanne held her ground. I lost ground. We didn't have any money for such foolishness, she argued, and as well, we had credit card debt because of the repairs we had to make to the clunker we used every day.

     Suzanne astutely pointed out, that while I like to glamorize Rusty Rita, because I was a loyal Rimstead reader, every day, I needed to appreciate that the foibles he wrote about…..including car repairs, the over consumption of booze, and marital issues, were warnings about a life path not to follow. His story wasn't for the faint of heart, because right down to some of his medical problems, Paul had a tough go of it…..and for the superstitious, like my mother for example, buying Rusty Rita would have been begging misfortune to stop for awhile at our residence. Gradually, I got the message, that my family……who never read Rimmer, by the way, didn't want me to get involved in the purchase of a car that had no redeeming quality, other than its questionable provenance, to a guy who had a lot of issues in life. Yet this is exactly what I felt was most alluring to the clunker, and its former owner, in the first place. Karma. Or something like that!  Paul Rimstead had unknowingly led many of us struggling reporters, through many years of poor wages and crappy assignments……residency in tenements, with bare cupboards yet the occasional school-boy six pack of beer, on a payday…..and thus, he was the patron saint of all writers who triumphed over circumstantial adversity, to earn a readership.

     A writing colleague asked me, during this great debate, what I would do if I owned "Rusty Rita," and I could sit in it all day long if I wished. "I'd sit in it all day, as I have wished," was my answer. It is my belief that Paul Rimstead was one of the finest writers in Canada, at the time, and if he had survived to this day, he would be the highest read columnist in the country. So yes, I have been in awe for many years, because I recognized that his rampant self criticism, and exploitation of his follies, made readers laugh and compare notes to their own life misfortunes. But what many didn't recognize, because of all the good humor and anecdotes, was the degree of writing proficiency it took, to accomplish this kind of entertainment quality. Many didn't credit his writing brilliance, and his creative genius, for getting and keeping us turning to page three, every day in the Toronto Sun. Sure we looked at the Sunshine Girl. I read Rimmer first. Always.

     When I write about provenance, I always think about Rimstead's "Rusty Rita," and how she and I would have got along here at Birch Hollow for all of these years. Would my sons, Andrew and Robert wish to inherit the beast when I finally succumb? How many people even remember Paul Rimstead, who once, on a lark, ran for Mayor of Toronto….and scared himself because of how well he did for a first timer. I'm sure Suzanne was being quite reasonable, when she suggested we would not be able to upkeep the old car…..and neither could Rimstead. I suppose it might have become a "carden" but I would have considered it somewhat of an honor to a great Canadian columnist, to be sprouting beautiful wildflowers from its essence of literary provenance. But then, it wasn't to be a memorial to Rimmer afterall. Rather, it was to be a source of inspiration to a struggling writer, looking for the old Rimstead kick and throttle to win an audience. I had to do it my way. Paul would have put his hand on my shoulder, and told me the same thing. Inspiration comes from within, based on life experiences. My experience was that, defying divorce, I very nearly made a serious play to buy Rusty Rita. That was a long time ago. I wonder where it is now?

     Here was a car with provenance. I would have looked pretty silly driving it around the region, with a sign posted in the window, indicating that this was the restored "car once owned by Toronto Sun columnist, Paul Rimstead." What was I hoping to accomplish doing that? There are books for that sort of thing! But it would have been neat for the short term!

     This is one of my favorite stories when discussing the importance of provenance for an antique or collectable. As for value, it was all based on sentiment, not on the value of that poor down-on-its-luck automobile. Thanks so much for making my day, by taking a few moments to visit here. It means a lot to have you join me for this daily blog……which wouldn't exist without your ongoing support. So thanks again.