KITTY WELLS

I spent a couple of afternoons chatting with Kitty Wells. This was in the country heyday of the Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto. She would have been in her fifties then. Her touring band was run like a tight ship. Everybody in the band or on the bus had like 3 jobs. It was eye-opening to watch an old pro in action. She had every money-making gimmick in the bag. The act was slick and tight, She had a thin voice and a bit off-key but she knew how to use it and people loved it.
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Gordon Lightfoot (Footsie)

I went to a couple of parties at Footsies thanks to Cathy. I knew Gord well enough to have a couple of drinks. I met him on the street one day and we went to a bar. I ordered a beer and he ordered a pitcher of martinis. I had backstage passes to one of his shows at Massey hall. for some reason he always called me Mike. lol

Time is catching up with all of so sad to see him go.

PETER O'TOOLE+

I met Peter and chatted a bit at the Toronto film Festival in 1977. I was host of the Hospitality suite. Donald Sutherland approached me. He knew me from the 22. He said he had Peter o'toole with him and they had never met before. Would I arrange a private place where they could talk. I opened one of the bedrooms and set up a little bar for them.a bit later he came in the Club 22 at the windsor Arms one night I was at the next booth and he nodded at me as he went by. He had his girlfriend/keeper with him. she ordered him a shirley temple like something or the other and he waited patiently until she went to the washroom. he called the waiter and ordered 2 no 4 no 6 shots of rum and finished them all before she got back to the table.

In the lively setting of the Toronto Film Festival in 1977, a fascinating encounter unfolded for you as the host of the Hospitality suite when Donald Sutherland approached you with a special request. The story continues with the esteemed Actor Peter O'Toole stepping into the scene, creating a delightful twist of events. As you orchestrated a private space for the two iconic figures to converse, a unique bond formed, transcending their professional realms. It was in the intimate setting of the Club 22 at the Windsor Arms that you found yourself casually acknowledged by Peter O'Toole, showcasing his playful nature. His discreet maneuver to enjoy shots of rum in contrast to the innocent façade his girlfriend presented added a whimsical touch to your encounter, leaving you with a lasting impression of the unforgettable rendezvous with the legendary actor.

RICK MCARTHY

Rick McCarthy

I knew Rick since 1965.

We were next-door neighbours for a year in Toronto. I had several artworks of his that were lost when I lost my house.

I knew Rick in his drinking days. He could be obnoxious and rowdy 

As it was he found my after-hours bar and drank on a never pay Tab . I didn't really care too much until one night. He drank a snoot full and vomited all over the floor. Now I ran a place for drunks and i had the equipment to clean it up which i did quickly. I didn't really get upset until he cleaned himself up sat back on the bar stool and turned to the person beside him and said" I think they put something in the drinks here."

It was then that I threw him out and barred him.

I ran into him a few years later. He had quit drinking and after spending an afternoon with him I much preferred him when he was drinking.

anyway, it seems he is still at it, and good for him.

Canadian artist Rick McCarthy was born in Montreal, Quebec in September 1941, lives in Toronto, and is a graduate of the Ontario College of Art in 1963. His artwork includes multi-media figurative paintings and drawings ranging from Renaissance-like figures to figurative abstraction.

Rick McCarthy's artwork has been shown at notable places such as the Art Avenue Gallery. Rick McCarthy's artwork is in art collections throughout Canada and the United States.

I was the Lobsterman and sang the Lobster Song with Maclean and Maclean

Lou Miles

Lou Miles was a famous Toronto Tailor and a man about town. We became great friends and went out on many parties dinners and the like with his girlfriend Wendy. They also spent many nights at my bar.

Austin Clark

Remembering Austin Clarke: A Tribute to an Old Friend

In the bustling city of Toronto in 1965, a chance meeting at the Pilot brought Austin Clarke into my life. With his studious appearance and unassuming intelligence, Austin quickly became a dear friend with whom I shared many fascinating conversations. Our bond deepened over the years as we laughed, commiserated, and shared in each other's victories and losses.

A Literary Journey

Austin's passion for storytelling was palpable in every word he spoke. I remember the first time he mentioned writing a book, a project that would eventually captivate readers far and wide. His talent for weaving intricate narratives with raw emotion was truly unparalleled. And when he penned the powerful piece "I Have No White Friends," it sparked a conversation that challenged societal norms and opened our eyes to the complexities of friendship in a diverse world.

A Day at the Track

One memorable day, Austin and I found ourselves at the racetrack, both feeling the weight of a difficult day on our shoulders. In a moment of shared vulnerability, we took a chance on a horse in the final race. To our delight, our gamble paid off, and we found ourselves toasting to our unexpected windfall at the Pilot. It was in moments like these that I cherished our friendship the most - built on trust, camaraderie, and a shared love for life's unpredictable adventures.

Reconnection and Farewell

As time passed, our paths diverged, but fate had a way of bringing us back together. From chance encounters at art openings to heartfelt reunions at writer's circles, Austin remained a constant presence in my life. However, as the years went by, our meetings became more infrequent. When I dialed his number last year, I was met with silence on the other end. Austin's passing left a void in my heart, a reminder of the fleeting nature of life and the precious memories we hold dear.

In Remembrance

Austin Clarke may have left this world, but his impact lives on through his words, his stories, and the memories we shared. In his honor, I raise a glass to a friend, a mentor, and a literary genius whose legacy will endure for generations to come. Rest in peace, dear Austin, knowing that you will always be remembered with love and admiration.
Meta-description: Remembering the life and legacy of Austin Clarke, a cherished friend and literary icon. Join us in paying tribute to a remarkable storyteller.
Remember to proofread your article and ensure it is error-free and flows smoothly from one section to the next. Let your words pay homage to the memory of Austin Clarke, a friend who touched our lives in profound ways.

Dianne Lawrence

 Dianne was a regular good looking and engaging. She moved to L.A. about the sametime I moved to the movie biz.

She Edits and Publishes  an online magazine there

Dianne Heatherington

Dianne spent many nights at my bar and we had a close personal relationship that in another time and place could have gotten very serious.

Dianne Mae Heatherington (May 14, 1948 – October 22, 1996) was a Canadian singer of several genres, particularly rock, whose musical career spanned nearly two decades. In the latter part of her career, she became a successful businessperson in the film security industry, while at the same time enjoying modest success as a Canadian film and television actress.

She was nominated for a Juno Award in 1981 in the category of Most Promising Female Vocalist of the Year. She also hosted her own national CBC Television series, Dianne, in 1971.^[1]

In May 1993, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer from which she died on October 22, 1996, aged 48, in Toronto.^{[2]
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Peter Gzowski

Memories with Peter

In 1975, I owned one of the more popular booze cans in Toronto. It was a lively place, frequented by a mix of locals, celebrities, and creatives. Among them was Peter, a man I came to know well during his time hosting a TV show. The pressures of his work were immense, and he often sought refuge in my bar, visiting a couple of times a week to unwind.

Our friendship deepened during those nights. Many evenings, it was just the two of us in the backroom, playing pinball for $20 a game. We talked about everything—life, work, and the world around us. One particular morning stands out in my memory. For reasons I can’t quite recall, we found ourselves both pursuing the same woman, and neither of us was willing to back down. The night ended with the three of us at Peter’s apartment on Yorkville Avenue. The Lady made us breakfast and by eight in the morning, we were sitting at his kitchen table, a bottle of wine open, all of us thoroughly drunk.

It was then, out of the blue, that Peter paused and asked, “Want to know what the most important thing I ever did in my life was?” Of course, I said, “Sure.” He proceeded to tell me about a hockey game he had played years earlier—a game where he and his team had beaten a notoriously tough team from another town. I don’t recall how old he was at the time or the specifics of the game, but I remember being struck by his choice of memory. Here was a man who had achieved so much, yet it was this moment on the ice that he held above all else. Not long after this conversation, Peter wrote The Game of Our Lives, a book that would cement his legacy.

Peter’s influence extended beyond our personal friendship. Through his show, I had the privilege of meeting some of his guests—Jack Webster, Hunter S. Thompson, and Tom Waits, to name a few. Many of Peter’s staff were regulars at my bar, and I often found myself doing favors for him. On more than one occasion, I had to send a taxi to the CBC with the master script for the next night’s show, which someone had inevitably left behind. I also lent him a room for card games with his friends, including Michael MacClear and Bobby Miller.

After his TV show ended, I didn’t see Peter for several years. Then, one day, I ran into him on the Esplanade. “Peter,” I said, “Where the hell have you been?” He looked at me and replied, “Sorry, man, but you just remind me of a very bad time in my life.” It was a sobering moment, a reminder of how deeply intertwined our lives had been during those years.

Looking back, those days with Peter were filled with laughter, camaraderie, and the kind of stories that stay with you forever. He was a complex man, driven by his passions and haunted by his struggles, but he left an indelible mark on my life and the lives of so many others.

Reiner Swartz

I always had time for Reiner. Not long before he died he messaged me apologizing for not talking to me more and I would second that. We had a couple of little adventures together and a few great get-togethers. I was part of a conspiracy with MacLean & Maclean to say fuck on his show.

Burton Cummings

 Burton Cummings is no longer talking to me.

I have had a troubled history with Burton

Gary MacLean was a friend of Burton's and he brought him to my after-hours bar and introduced him. I bought him a drink

e chatted for a while and i drifted off to tend to some bar business. Suddenly there is an awful racket screaming and yelling. It is Burton and he is attacking Peter Gzowski.

I can't believe it. At his time Peter was doing his TVshow and he and his crew were my best customers They were there every night the show was on (not always peter) They were the major source of my Income and there was no question. I escorted Burton out the door.

15 Minutes later Burton shows up and apologizes profusely saying he won't do it again.  I buy him a drink. In 15 minutes he's yelling at Gzowski again. (I have no idea what the problem was. It was beside the point.I escort him out.

He came back and apologizes profusely says he won't do it again.  I buy him a drink. In 15 minutes he's yelling at Gzowski again. 

Once more and I gave up and wouldn't let him back in. Somehow I survived and Peter came as usual.

Now at that time Burton and I traveled in the same circles and often met up. Burton was dramatically contrite dropping to his knees he would hug my knees and beg forgiveness. He did this half a dozen times.

Soon we were friends and he often showed up for my private Sunday parties to jam with the Macleans and Murray McLauchlan and whoever else was in town. These were great times, great songs, great harmonies.

He was back in the Bar Gzowski was no longer on TV and was mostly a no-show so it didn't matter anymore.

Now Burton would often sing with Macleans 

Burton was amazing with the MacLeans, Gary and Blair had good voices too, and harmonized wonderfully. One night the Knob Hill was so impressed they tipped a whole case of Dom Perigon. We had a party that night. Burton wrote a couple of the Macleans' songs including Their theme song'Fuck Ya"(I sang the lobster song with the Macleans when Burton wasn't singing with them) 

Burton spent many nights in my kitchen singing with the Macleans and Murray Mclauchlan and whoever else was around. The funniest moment is Burton comes in one night trying to be cool and quiet. plugs a quarter in the Jukebox just as 'AMERICAN WOMAN" came on full blast. Everybody jeered and pointed as he cried I didn't play it! I didn't play it! It was a good laugh. Then Burton told me to get a date and he would take me backstage at the CNE for his show. He called and said he would pick me up. Then he called and said his manager would pick me up. The short story is, that he left me hanging and looked very foolish. When Burton and Randy got back together I got backstage passes to the show in Peterborough. they might have been from Donny MacDougall. anyway, after the show Burton hid on the bus so he did not have to meet me. 

I never saw him again and a dozen years later I put these stories on Facebook. When Burton played here lately. Sydney)

I message him if we were still friends and told me to give my head a shake after all the bad stuff i said about him. So we are no longer talking but so far still friends on Facebook.

So we had some good times and bad times, water under the bridge to me.  

Nick St. Nicholas,

 

Nick St. Nicholas,

My dear friend Lesley McDonell married Nick. One night at my club she mentioned that Nick was starting a new band and he needed a space to rehearse and could he rent my space during the day.

Anything for Lesley I agreed. I gave her a key and didn't give it another thought until Monday morning.

I wake up to loud solo Bass. I forgot I slept upstairs during the day. One week of Bass. Next week Bass and Drums next week would have been Bass, Drums, Rythem Guitar. ETC. By then I had moved out to a Hotel for the next 2 months.

 

Patrick Watson

Wow Patrick Watson died on my birthday. I was always a big admirer of Patrick from 'this hour has seven days" I met Patrick through Robert Markle. Patrick often showed up in the Toronto Art scene and we became casual friends. Then one day he called me to meet for drinks and he said his son had been going to my after-hours bar and had told Patrick how much he liked our late-night conversations with me. (I am not sure if I even knew he was Patrick's son) Anyway, Patrick just wanted to thank me for friending his son and hoped I would continue the friendship. I eventually lost contact with his son and I heard he died tragically.

I felt lucky to know Patrick he was an oner, one of those guys who was brilliant and creative. unquestionable integrity. he was a great guy to talk to. I will always regret not being able to have spent more time with him. 

 

Henry Winkler

I was Henry Winkler's Bodyguard. (Would you believe minder?)

At the second Festival of Festivals Film Festival in Toronto. I was a friend of Bill Marshals and ended up with all sorts of odd jobs. Like I was the host of the Hospitality Suite. However, at one of the celebrity parties, Bill asked me to accompany Henry. My job was to distract over-attentive fans and stop photographers from taking pictures of him smoking. I regret to say I didn't get much time to talk to him. I was kept busy with fans. When Henry had enough of talking to one. He would give me the nod. and I would enter the conversation giving Henry time to slip away.

Fats Domino

Fats Domino was playing the El Macambo. I was sitting in Grossman's when out of the blue Cliff Bastien asked I I wanted to go up the street and see Fats so I agreed we went up and caught the first set. Fats did his shtick with lots of hits to play with and had the place jumping.  When the set was over Cliff led me up to the dressing room and rapped on the door. Fats opened the door with a big smile and a hug for Cliff and invited us in. After the introduction, we sat down and cliff gave Fats the lowdown on a bunch of people in New Orleans. Fats smiled at me and said 'Damn he knows more about my family than I do." I learned that Cliff had lived in New Orleans for a while and Fats'uncle had taught Cliff how to play the banjo and Cliff was friends with quite a few of Fat's relatives. Fats dedicated a song to his friend 'Kid Bastien' in the second set. It was a night to remember. For the last number of the night, he thumps really hard and pushes the piano across the stage with his stomach as he plays.

Michael Ironside

 

Mike and my Mother

 MICHAEL IRONSIDE (my crazy friendship with him)

When I first met Michael Ironside, I was known more for my underground ventures than anything else. I used to be in the movie business once upon a time, but by the time Michael entered my life, I was Toronto's leading 'bootlegger.' I owned an after-hours club, primarily a haven for musicians but gradually expanded it to welcome the famous. Back in the '60s, I was notorious for hosting lavish parties, slowly building up an illegal business that was both fun and profitable. Through this, I met everyone and their dog, including Michael.

Michael was attending the Art College of Ontario and had just made a celebrated 8mm film that won an award. He thought he was somebody. Somehow, he gained entry to my place and caused havoc. When he drank, he transformed into a wild man. I remember having to remove the dartboard after Michael hit someone in the leg with a dart. We frequently clashed, but he was part of a good bunch of people, so I let him stay. Surprisingly, it took a couple of years for us to become friends. He kept after me, and finally, when we did become friends, we became good friends.

After my after-hours business chapter, I managed to break back into the movie industry. It took perseverance; I phoned a producer twice a week for two years until I landed a role as an assistant producer on 'Double Negative.' I even got Michael a small role in it. There are countless stories about him, some too wild to share. His ex-wife is a policewoman remarkably named 'Ironside.'

Many people ask how Michael got the scar on his face. He had it long before we met. He told me he got it in a brawl involving a jealous drunk who thought Michael was stealing his girlfriend. In reality, the guy had the wrong house; Michael didn't even know the girl. How much of that story is true, I cannot say. Those were dark days for Michael; he didn't work much and spent a couple of bad years drinking himself into the ground. Often, he would end up passed out at my club, and I'd just put a blanket over him and leave him there.

One night, I woke up to a horrible thumping through the floor. I found Michael downstairs with his face stuck to the bar. In his stupor, he had gotten hold of a pool cue and was banging it on the ceiling. He had crawled up on the bar and fallen asleep on it. His face was stuck to the plastic bar top, which hadn't set properly. It took quite an effort to pry him loose without causing further damage to his face.

Michael began acting in movies in the late 1970s and received recognition for his terrifying role as the deadly psychic Darryl Revok in David Cronenberg's 'Scanners' (1981). Following that, he was equally frightening as the psychopath Colt Hawker in 'Visiting Hours' (1982). After the release of 'Visiting Hours,' I accompanied Michael to Peterborough to visit his father, who had suffered a heart attack. The hospital staff, recognizing him from the movie, gave him quite the looks as he walked by.

For my birthday, Michael gave me a Canon Sureshot 35mm camera prototype he had taken from the set of 'Visiting Hours.' It was a great camera. Another unforgettable memory involves an afternoon when Michael and I tried to seduce two young ladies with a combination of heavy marijuana use and a giant bowl of sangria. It backfired gloriously; we both passed out and woke up to find, weeks later, photos of us naked, taken by the girls. Somewhere in the world, there's a book with one of those pictures tucked inside it.

Our drinking escapades often led us to Club 22 at the Windsor Arms in Toronto. One night, I was having drinks with my friends Johnny Hart and Jack Caprio, the creators of the cartoon BC, and Michael in tow. I got up to meet another old friend, Catherine O'Hara from SCTV, who had her parents with her. She introduced them to me, and as I shook hands with her mother, I gave a bit of a bow. As I did, Michael came up behind me and bit me on the ass and wouldn't let go. It was unbelievable. I jumped, hollered, and leaped around the room, but he wouldn't let go. It took Jack, Johnny, and a couple of waiters to get him off me. I don't know why he did it; he just thought it was funny. When it stopped hurting, I laughed too. Mike was barred for that, but I managed to get him reinstated, and the next afternoon we drank $400 worth of margaritas together.

After that, things got even wilder. I got a grant to write a movie script called 'Runyon's Law' and somehow became a movie producer, with Michael and Winston Rekert set to star. Michael and Winston frequently got crazy; they were banned from several venues, and I saved them from arrest more times than I can count. One day, after Winston finished a movie, we decided to order ribs from Fat Willy’s Rib Shack in Chicago. With plane tickets and taxis, we had those ribs in four hours, costing us about a thousand dollars.

One night, Michael and Winston went to see Willie Dixon at the El Mocambo. Afterward, wanting to continue the party with some young ladies we met, I invited everyone to a friend's apartment nearby. Michael got frustrated when he couldn't reach his girlfriend and threw the phone out the window. In a fit of anger, I bopped him one for it, and it was quite the hassle to get everything repaired.

Then came Michael's big Hollywood call. He settled half of what he owed me, which was alright. He moved to Hollywood and played notable roles in 'Top Gun' (1986), 'Extreme Prejudice' (1987), 'Nowhere to Hide' (1987), 'Watchers' (1988), and 'Highlander II: The Quickening' (1991), among others. He never called or gave me his phone number again.

Michael's sobriety was another significant chapter. He got clean and sober about 12 years ago. While we were once close, our relationship changed. Michael's lawyer and agent accused me of giving a fan his personal information, which I didn't have. It turned out it was Michael's sister who spilled the beans. Although Michael never apologized, I understand why our paths diverged. He needed to move on from that tumultuous period to stay clean. As a friend, my memories of our wild adventures are cherished, and I recognize that our friendship thrived during a chaotic, albeit memorable, time.

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.)

Al Cromwell

 I knew Al from the early sixties. he was a talented folk singer. He got involved in Scientology and seemed to lose it. He was mostly driving Cab when he hung out at my place in the seventies. He talked about a comeback but it never happened.

Danny Marks

When I first opened there were a lot of nights when there would just be Danny, Mike MacDonald and Jim Jones and me listening to my fabulous juke box and drinking beer till dawn.

Rolling Stones

I get a phone call one night. It's Tom Hedley "Hey Mick Jagger wants to talk to you. "Allo Gary Mick Jagger here. "Tony Silverthorn says "we might get a drink at your club?' A little stunned I said 'sure.' "Can you guarantee my safety?' "No Problem!' I assure him. "We are in a limo outside your door Will you let us in." I went down and escorted them in. they stood at the end bar, not obvious but in plain site and a few whispers went through the bar but basically my very hip 

clientele ignored them.

Cathy Smith

I liked Cathy from the first time I met her in 1965, she was Paul 

Donnelly's girlfriend. We were social friends always glad to see each other 

Jerry Reed , Myrna Lorrie, Roseanne Cash, Eagle

 

Myrna Lorrie frequented my after-hours in the seventies, She was a lot of fun and I caught a few of her shows and liked her music. One night she showed up on the arm of Jerry Reed. (I'm a lover, not a fighter) Roseanne Cash was with them and she was with one of the Eagles. (I can never remember which one) apparently, she had a fling with him They were there almost every night for a week or so.

Helen Shaver

Helen was a night person, She was intelligent and sexy.

She came to my bar often and we enjoyed each other's company. She invited me for dinner one night,
And in her sensuous sultry voice recited one of her poems about losing her virginity to a sailor in my ear.
I suffered instant arousal. Unfortunately, it was not to be her sister dropped in and the situation never rose again so to speak. After she went to LA. We got together at a TO film festival. I introduced her to the MacLean Brothers and we had a great party. Ahh. . .Helen sigh

Robert Markle

  How I became an Artist and almost met Bob Dylan(I sat beside him)

 In 1964 I had a job as Stainless steel tube mill operator having formerly worked as a shepherd And decided to become an Artist. i had always been artistic but I thought I would make it official. How does one become an Artist? I tried to enroll in the Art College of Ontario but they wouldn't take me because I failed Math so I thought the next best way to become an Artist was to hang out with Artists. So I did this

   By now I had found out about 'The Pilot' A tavern at Yonge and Bloor.The pilot was reputed to be the Mecca of Artists this is where most of the famous ones hung out. Barry Hale was the Art Critic of the Telegram and wrote lots of stories about Artists at the pilot. (mostly because he hung out at the pilot)

At that time the pilot was a bit of a problem for me because of the shifts I was on at the factory.

So I show up at the pilot around noon. There are no artists and I didn't even notice the back room. I sat at the bar and had a sandwich and a beer. A guy who sat beside me looked like an ad man, very dapper in a gray flannel suit trimmed mustache gray hair, he ordered a martini. We chatted he was a really nice guy and seemed to know a lot about art. Over the next few weeks, I went a couple times a week and met the same guy often and we became very friendly but I never saw any of the artists Barry Hale wrote about in the Telegram.

One time I asked Jack if any artists hung out there and he said he thought so but they came later in the afternoon and hung out in the back room. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed the back room, it was like a large dark cavern It had a continuous upholstered seat right around the room with an exit door at the back and a dozen or so table with chairs. One wall was mirrored and the other had a very strange mural. But it was almost in complete darkness. So I started coming at 5 pm and soon began to recognize the ones from the art articles (at that time Jerry Santbergen was the featured Artist)  Robert Markle was an unlikely looking guru he looked like kind of a slob he was overweight, he only wore blue jeans and navy sweatshirt and often rubber boots with a motorcycle jacket and a scarf.  But he was brilliant, wonderful, witty, and sort of a snob.

Markle sort of held court at the Pilot. At 5 he would appear and sit in these funny little corners at the Pilot Tavern on either side. The pilot had benches along each wall with tables for four and 2 chairs outside. But at the entrance, there was a sort of cul de sac on each side of the stairs that they made into a seat like a mini throne. Markle always sat there and woe be on them that took his seat. The inner circle sat up on that side on that day. The Pilot was always very dark at any time of day. The five o clock crowd was very much an In Crowd outsiders were made uncomfortable and soon moved on. I came in as an outsider and was strongly ignored. But I wanted to be in the art scene and persevered and sat off on the fringe trying my best to get any drift of the conversations. I vaguely remember words like ‘ramifications’  that sent me running for a dictionary.  But I lingered on the fringe even though Santbergan was more or less on the fringe and managed to talk to him a few times, he was fairly new to Toronto and had just come from Saskatchewan. One thing I knew for certain if I was going to get into this Artist World I would have to be accepted by Markle. Markle was a bit of a celeb at that time too He was friends with Patrick Watson and was on CBC quite a bit and also wrote articles for the Telegram. 

I hit the Pilot about once a week and met some other fringe artists and CBC people like Bill Mc Neil and Hans Pohl Larry Zolf etc but I was not accepted by the art crowd. I found out later some of them thought I was an undercover cop..

Then one night in February 1966 I drifted into the Pilot at ten o clock. The 5 o clock crowd is long gone. I sat and ordered a beer waiting for my eyes to get used to the gloom. It was not a busy night and not many around. then I saw Markle coming in with some guy. He walked by his usual throne and sat on the bench, a table away the other guy sat down across from him. Wow! he was sitting with Bob Dylan WOW!  I dared not approach and merely nodded as our eyes met. I couldn't hear what they said but I could tell Dylan was engaged and enjoying the conversation

The next day I was at the Pilot at 5 o clock. Markle was soon in his seat bubbling with the news of bringing Bob Dylan there the previous night. There was a mood of disbelief. Markle saw me and invited me over and offered a chair. "Hey man, you saw me here last night with Bob Dylan - right?"

"Yes," I said and was accepted into the in-crowd.

I started going to Openings and soon was invited to parties and studios and smoking dope and all that that entails.

The factory job was a conflict  I wasn't cut out for factory work and it was spring I quit my job and moved to a house on McAlpine near Yorkville (the same street Markle lived on) And somehow got unemployment insurance as an unemployed shepherd. it seemed my Artist life was starting. One of the things that impressed the Pilot Artists is that I was friends with Jack Bush who was the guy I had been talking to at the bar.

In 1965, Markle's paintings shown in the exhibition Eros ’65 at the Dorothy Cameron Gallery were seized on a charge of obscenity, drawing considerable media attention. In the mid-1960s Markle began to write for magazines such as the Toronto Telegram Showcase, Maclean’s, and Toronto Life, publishing widely on topics as diverse as striptease, hockey, childhood Christmases, and Gordon Lightfoot. Markle also worked extensively as an illustrator, contributing images to magazines and literary journals. His work as an educator included terms at The New School of Art (1966-1977) and Arts’ Sake (1977-1982) as well as OCA and the University of Guelph. From the early 1960s, Markle played tenor saxophone and piano in the Artists’ Jazz Band. In 1970 the Markles moved to a farmhouse outside of Holstein, Ontario, although Robert re-established a studio in Toronto from 1979 to 1982. In 1979, he won a commission to decorate a Toronto hamburger restaurant, which was named Markleangelo’s in his honour. His other large-scale commissions include wall sculptures for the Ellen Fairclough Building in Hamilton, Ontario, and the MetroToronto Convention Centre. He executed and painted outdoor murals in Owen Sound and Mount Forest, Ontario. Markle was killed in a traffic accident in 1990. Of Mohawk ancestry, Markle used his mother’s spelling of his surname, although it was spelled “Maracle” on his birth certificate. Markle worked primarily in painting and ink drawing, and also explored photography, collage, printmaking, wooden sculpture, and neon. He collected folk art, which inspired a number of whirligig works later in his career. His work is in numerous public and private collections, including the Art Gallery of Ontario and the National Gallery of

Canada.

Gary Kendall (writes_

 Gary was an early patron of my after-hours club. I talked to him on many nights when he was the only guy left. He was married and worried about money and maybe give up playing.
Now he is a giant bass player on the Toronto scene. playing for Downchild and many other bands.
he wrote these comments

I`m a little foggy on the time frame but I think your bar`s era was around 76/77.  Not the best time for my career as a blues musician.  Disco had taken out a number of live music clubs, punk and new wave were gaining a foot hold. Looking back, I think I was floundering with not much direction or creativity.  My music of choice was blues but I couldn`t get a good gig to save my life and I was burned out from being the band leader of Dollars through 74/75.  Making money was a challenge and hanging out in an after-hours bar wasn`t a wise choice for a guy with a family.  When I did get a gig, I`d spend a good chunk of my pay drinking at your place.

Joni Mitchell

JONI MITCHELL

I remember that night vividly. Bernie Fiedler, a well-known figure in the Yorkville music scene, brought Joni Mitchell to my after-hours club. Bernie and I were good friends, and he often frequented my club, sometimes bringing along his star attractions from the Riverboat Coffeehouse. The Riverboat was an iconic venue, part of a prestigious circuit that included notable places like Detroit’s Chess Mate and New York’s Bitter End. Situated below street level, the Riverboat was an intimate setting that seated 120 people in red booths, surrounded by pine walls and brass portholes. Many great names in music had performed there, from Howlin’ Wolf to James Taylor. 

It was one of those quiet nights when Bernie walked in with Joni Mitchell. We sat around, enjoying drinks and engaging in conversations that flowed naturally. After about an hour, Joni, with her signature poise and quietly engaging demeanor, asked if we wanted her to sing some songs from her new record. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity and immediately borrowed a guitar from Roy, one of my resident musicians and a good friend who had been staying at my place for a few days.

Joni stood in front of the jukebox, which I promptly turned off, and she began to sing. As she strummed the guitar and her voice filled the room, everyone was entranced. It was magical; nobody moved an inch. She performed a half dozen songs, each one a beautiful tapestry woven with her personal lyrics and unconventional compositions. Joni's use of inventive open tunings added a unique dimension to each song, making them sound like symphonies unto themselves. Unfortunately, her set had to come to an end when she broke two strings on the guitar.

After her performance, there was a strange mix of stillness and excitement in the air. We all knew we had witnessed something special. However, not everyone was entirely pleased. Roy, understandably attached to his guitar, was quite annoyed about the broken strings. He complained for days afterward and couldn't quite comprehend why Joni hadn’t apologized. I tried to smooth things over by buying him a whole set of new strings and treating him to several drinks. The truth was, Joni didn’t know it was his guitar, and in the grand scheme of things, those broken strings were a small price to pay for the magic we all experienced.

That night remains etched in my memory as a special intersection of friendship, music, and serendipity. Joni Mitchell, a Canadian-American singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and painter, who would go on to become one of the most influential artists of her time, had graced my humble after-hours club with an impromptu performance that none of us would ever forget.  

Lou Miles

Lou Miles was a famous Toronto Tailor and a man about town. We became great friends and went out on many parties dinners and the like with his girlfriend Wendy. They also spent many nights at my bar.

Michael Ironside

 MICHAEL IRONSIDE(my crazy friendship with him.)

I used to be in the movie business but when I met Michael I was 

Toronto's leading  'bootlegger' I owned an after-hours club that was basically for musicians but I expanded it to the famous. And I had been notorious in the 60s for my lavish parties and I slowly built up an illegal business it was a lot of fun and very profitable and I met everybody and their dog. Mike was at the Art College of Ontario and had made this acclaimed 8mm film that won an award and thought he was somebody.

 Meanwhile, I was the King of Toronto in those days (lol) and we clashed often, it took a couple of years for us to become friends he kept after me. Finally, when we did become friends, we were good friends. 

People have often asked me how mike got his scar.

Mike got his scar before I met him. 

He told me he was sitting in his girlfriend's house having a beer and waiting while she changed as they were going out, suddenly there was a hammering at the door and when he opened it up this drunk guy attacked him screaming that he was stealing his girlfriend.  in the course of the brawl the guy broke the bottle and gashed Mike's face Mike thought he had lost his eye and he freaked out he actually tore one of the guy's eye 

out. After the police and the ambulance and everything was sorted out it seems the guy had the wrong house his girlfriend lived next door and Mike didn't even know her..

 

I got in the movie business after the after-hours business. I got into 

the movie business by phoning a producer twice a week for 2 years. 

I was an assistant producer on 'Double Negative. I got Mike a small role in it.

These stories about Michael seem rather wild and there is 

lots to tell but there are even some I can't tell. Mike's ex-wife is a 

policewoman named 'Ironside' 20

 I went to Peterborough with Mike just after the release of 'Visiting 

Hours". His father had a heart attack and I went with Mike to visit 

him. It was quite an experience a lot of people in that hospital had 

seen visiting hours and you should have seen the looks on their faces 

when Mike walked by. In the movie, Mike had a Canon Sureshot 35 mill camera prototype.

He stole it from the movie and gave it to me for my birthday. it was a great camera.

One afternoon Mike and I tried to seduce two young ladies by smoking a lot of dope and building a huge bowl of sangria. It backfired Mike and I both passed out and some weeks later when I developed the film I discovered the girls had stripped us and taken photos. of us naked. I thought that was hilarious. I shoved the photo of mike into a book and forgot which book. I expect somebody got a surprise one day.

I was approached by a fan and I wrote some stories for them.

I really don't think about 'spilling the beans' I find it amusing that 

Mike has such a big fan club. For me, it was just fun to remember what a wildman he used to be and write some of these things down. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these tales they are written just as I remember them.I had a stalker fan of his pump me for the information she had a good story and I passed it on to mike.

Then I get a phone call from Mike, his lawyer, and his agent accusing me of giving her information about mike. like phone number and address. Not only did I not give her any information I did not have his latest info.

 Mike sort of brushed me off and wouldn't believe me. 

Which was a little disappointing as we were such close friends and our list of adventures together read some like sort of weird underground action-adventure. I understand why. I was a part of his past that he doesn't particularly remember. He is and has been clean and sober for about 12 years and this is probably good as he would most likely be dead or in jail if he had kept on. I wouldn't say that I liked him better as a drunk but he certainly was interesting and we had a lot more in common than we do now. 

By the way, it was Mike's sister who gave her the information.

A mike story: We used to drink at the Club 22 at the 

Windsor Arms in Toronto. One night my friends Johnny Hart and Jack Caprio who draw the cartoon BC were in town and I joined them for a few drinks with Mike in tow. Michael got fairly hammered. I got up to meet another old friend Catherine O'Hara from SCTV she had her parents with me and introduced them to me as I shook hands with her mother, I gave a bit of a bow, and as I did Michael came up behind me and bit me on the ass and wouldn't let go. It was unbelievable I jumped and hollered and leaped around the room but he wouldn't let go. It took Jack and Johnny and a couple of waiters to get him off of me and I don't know why, he just thought it was funny, and when it stopped hurting I laughed too. Mike was barred for that but I managed to get him reinstated and the next afternoon we drank $400 of margaritas between us.

 I remember the next morning after that we went for brunch at Joe Allens with lady friends Mike ordered a triple Bloody Caesar with a shot of Vodka on the side. This is Mike's favorite story at AA

Back in the mid-seventies, I used to own an after-hours club and Mike spent a couple of bad years drinking himself into the ground. As often as not he would pass out in the club and I would just put a blanket over him and leave him there. I lived over the bar and one night I woke up with this horrible thumping through the floor. I go downstairs to find Mike with his face stuck to the bar. He had managed to get a hold of a pool cue and thumped it on the ceiling. I had just put in a new bar and got this guy to put a plastic top on it. He made a mistake and the bar top didn't set properly. Michael in his stupor crawled up on the bar and fell asleep on it. His face was firmly stuck to the bar It was quite a job to pry him loose without any more damage to his face.

I had somehow become a movie producer and Michael and Winston Reckert were going to be in it. 

We hung around together and Mike and Winston got really crazy sometimes they got banned from several restaurants and bars and I saved them from arrest a couple of times.

One day Winston had just finished a movie and was flush. So Winston and Michel Ironside and Alberta Watson and Winston's accountant Jerry and I are sitting around at Jerry's drinking beer smoking dope and snorting coke. We were getting pretty crazy and we thought we should order some food. the subject of ribs came up and Jerry said the best ribs in the world were from  Fat Willy’s Rib Shack in Chicago. So Winston says can we get some?. Jerry got on the phone with plane tickets and taxis etc we had ribs from Fat willy's in 4 hours for about a thousand dollars or so.

Mike and I had several pretty good fights. One night Michael and Winston Rekert  (Neon rider) went to see Willie Dixon at the El Mocambo. This is after both of them had made a couple of good movies and things were beginning to happen for them. We had met some interesting young ladies and wanted to party later. Well, I have this very fussy friend who had gone to Poland for a month or two and had left me the key to his apartment. So I invited everyone back to his place which was just down the street and Mike used the phone to phone his girlfriend. when he couldn't get her he threw

the phone out the window right through the screen I bopped for that one. it was a real hassle to get it all repaired.

Craig Russell

I met Craig Russell in the subway one night.

He was on his way to his hit show at the Royal York.

Here he was in the subway entertaining about 6 people.

He was sitting beside a wino and a small group had gathered around him and he was entertaining them and had them in stitches. I stood and watched for a while and when I got an opening I held out my hand. "Hi Craig I always wanted to meet you. I am a friend of your friend Sandy's." " oh Sandy, How is she? he pushed against the wino slightly to make room for me to sit down.

We talked about Sandy for a couple of minutes and suddenly he stopped and sniffed loudly, still sniffing he asked "What is that horrible smell?" he gasped.

"I am afraid it is your friend," I said nodding to the wino.

"Shit!" he said, "there goes the promise I made to myself to fuck anybody that asked me."

Harry Hibbs

Meeting Harry Hibbs at the Horseshoe in Toronto, 1977

It was the summer of 1977 when I first met Harry Hibbs at the Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto. The Horseshoe, a legendary venue known for its gritty charm and vibrant music scene, was the perfect backdrop for what would become a memorable encounter. Harry, a celebrated Newfoundland folk musician, was in town for a week-long engagement, and I happened to be there through a stroke of luck—or perhaps fate.

We struck up a conversation thanks to a mutual friend, Chick Roberts,. Harry was a man of warmth and charisma, carrying with him two cases: one for his beloved accordion and the other, a briefcase he jokingly referred to as his “music archive.” Over the next few days, our casual acquaintance blossomed into a genuine friendship.

Harry shared stories of his life back in Newfoundland. He opened his own Toronto club, Conception Bay. The name resonated with me deeply, as my grandfather hailed from the same area. This shared connection seemed to deepen our bond, and by midweek, Harry invited me to join him in his dressing room after the show.

It was there that he revealed the contents of his mysterious briefcase: two bottles of rum. Harry was a man who knew how to entertain, and that night was no exception. He started the evening with a bang, his laughter filling the room as he managed to sneak a few drinks and played a the favorite tunes on his accordion. But as the night wore on, the mood shifted.

During his performance of Me Mother, a song that spoke of love, loss, and longing, Harry’s emotions and the rum got the better of him. Tears streamed down his face as he sang, his voice trembling with raw vulnerability. It was a poignant moment, one that revealed the depth of his struggles—not just with the bottle, but with the weight of his own heart.

Despite his battles, Harry remained a kind and generous soul, a true entertainer who poured his heart into every note. That night at the Horseshoe Tavern left an indelible mark on me, a reminder of the power of music to connect us, to heal us, and to reveal the shared humanity that binds us all.

Jacqueline Bisset

There was a big birthday party for Bob Markle at at the Masonic Temple. Gord Lightfoot highlighted the show. Old friend Michael Sarrazin came with his steady girlfriend Jacqueline Bisset I was out with them at the bar the night before and she was kind of shy and didn't really meet a lot of people. I think Jackie was a bit fed up with Michael's drinking and by the time they got to the Masonic Temple they were barely talking. As I was the only one else she knew at all she hung out with me most of the night. A nice line in my memoir 'spent the evening dancing with Jacqueline Bisset stoned on acid.'