MacLean and MacLean

MacLean and MacLean: A Journey of Friendship and Laughter

One memorable night in Toronto, I had the pleasure of meeting the MacLean brothers at my club, and we quickly hit it off. Hailing from Louisbourg, I joined them in performing one of the oldest recorded songs in the English language, a traditional Scottish ballad called "The Lobster." While my singing skills weren't particularly impressive, I managed to get through the performance. Initially, I took it all in stride, but as time went on, I began to feel the pressure to perform well. This led to bouts of stage fright, complete with nervous sweating before each act. 

One fateful evening, I completely blanked on the lyrics. After a lengthy pause during the chorus, Gary, with his trademark humor, glanced at me and asked, “Did you forget the words?” I nodded, my mind racing to recall them. “You arsehole!” he exclaimed, ever the supportive friend. Somehow, I found the words and finished the song, which helped me overcome my nerves in future performances.

Another cherished memory involves my friend Murray McLaughlin. I often dragged him along for my performances, even though he was not fond of being seen at them. One night at "The Chimney" on Yonge Street, we had an hour break between shows. While sitting in the dressing room with a couple of friends and enjoying some Heinekens, we spontaneously started singing show tunes. It was a hilarious experience, as we went through an impressive repertoire, and I can still picture the door opening to reveal a surprised audience watching Murray McLaughlin and the MacLeans belting out songs from "Oklahoma."

Later that night, we found ourselves in the boys' hotel room, trying to impress a couple of young women. Gary asked Murray if he would sing "The Farmers Song," and Murray graciously obliged, showcasing his talent with the guitar. After the performance, Gary humorously remarked, “Thanks, Murray, that was lovely! It’s just like when I’m at a party and someone asks me to do ‘The Shit Routine.’”

On Sundays, I would host a gathering for anyone in town, offering free drinks, a delicious seafood dinner, and a jam session. The MacLeans thrived behind the bar and were excellent bartenders. One memorable moment involved Burton Cummings perched on my kitchen counter, singing "I Got a Letter from the Postman," accompanied by the harmonious voices of MacLean and MacLean and Murray McLaughlin. It felt magical, and I could swear half the audience consisted of grandmothers from Capbreton.

My Sunday bar was by invitation only, and everything was complimentary. I would whip up my famous seafood chowder and invite talented friends like Burton and Murray for a jam session. The MacLeans always took charge behind the bar, making it a delightful experience. When I decided to close my bar, the MacLeans graciously invited me to Winnipeg for a couple of weeks, saying, “You’ve been so good to us; we’ll treat you the same way you’ve treated us.” 

I jokingly replied, “You mean you’re going to charge me $3.50 a drink?” On those nights, Burton often joined the boys to sing, but I never got the chance to perform.

One unforgettable night, Burton sang with them at the Knob Hill Hotel, and management rewarded us with a case of Dom Pérignon champagne. My time with the MacLeans came to an abrupt end because of a surprise encounter with Billy Joel. As I prepared to sing during the final set at the El Macombo, I noticed Billy and his band arriving at a reserved table after their performance at Maple Leaf Gardens.

I launched into my rendition of "The Lobster":

“I met a jolly fisherman down by the sea,
Have you a lobster you can sell to me?
Singing row tiddly over fart or bust,
Never let your bollocks dangle in the dust.”
The comedic verses continued, detailing the misadventures that followed my encounter with the lobster and culminating in a playful moral about always being cautious.
That is the end
There is no more
There is an apple up me arsehole
and Billy Joel can have the core.
Surprised, the MacLeans exchanged glances, unaware that Billy Joel was in the audience. After the show, Billy and his band came to our dressing room, where the El Mo provided cases of Heineken, and we celebrated together late into the night. Billy expressed his admiration for the act, but he could only remember me. He thought I was an integral part of the performance rather than just a friend of the MacLeans. You should never upstage the stars. the Macleans remained good friends but they never asked me to sing again. the lobsterman no more.