Ian Tyson

Memories of IanTyson

I first met Ian and Sylvia through the vibrant folk music scene at the Village Corner. Our paths crossed frequently, and I was always warmly welcomed at their shows. My connection with Ian deepened when he stayed at my place for a couple of weeks. He rented a room above my Speakeasy, a space reserved for musicians, courtesy of our mutual friend Tony Vice. This was during a tumultuous period in Ian's life as his marriage was falling apart, and he spent a lot of time either in the bar or at Tony's place. Mostly drunk or stoned.

One memorable night, Tony, his girlfriend, and I were having a final drink in my closed bar when Ian stumbled in. He was visibly intoxicated and high. Tony made him a drink, and Ian, in a dramatic gesture, offered us a sniff of cocaine from the blade of a large hunting knife. He then slumped into a chair and moaned, "I'm dying." Not receiving much sympathy, he continued, "No, I mean it. I did too much this time. Tony, you can have my ranch. Sweetie, you can have my saddle, and Gary, buddy, you can have my horses." I replied, "Hell, Ian, I wouldn't know what to do with horses." He then amended, "Okay, you can have my ranch, and Tony can have my horses." Tony eventually led him off to an empty room to sleep it off.

Weeks later, Ian returned with Christine Wookie. While Ian was schmoozing, I struck up a conversation with Christine. We hit it off well, and she asked me why I was running a place like the Speakeasy. I told her I wanted to buy a sailboat. She responded, "That's all you want? We have a 70-foot sailboat that nobody has used in a couple of years. If that's all you want, why not..." At that moment, Ian grabbed her and whisked her out the door. "Wait a minute," I hollered. "We'll be back," Ian said, and they were gone. I never saw her again, and I often wonder how that conversation might have ended.

Another night, Gary MacLean stopped by. The MacLeans had started as the folk group The Vicious Circle, and Gary was a big fan of Ian's. When I told him Ian was there, he was thrilled to meet him. Unable to find Ian immediately, I led Gary up to Tony's room. The door was open, and in the dimly lit room, Ian was passed out on the floor. What could I do? I introduced them: "Ian Tyson, meet Gary MacLean. Gary MacLean, meet Ian Tyson." Gary bent down and said, "Jesus, that is Ian Tyson."

(Sorry, Ian, it was a long time ago.)