About 15 (or more) years ago, I had the great pleasure of seeing Stompin' Tom Connors play live, and then meeting him after the show. There was a group of about 6 or 8 of us who made the trek to Hamilton Place to see the show. When you're going to see a Canadian legend sing his songs (pretty much every damn one) about Canada, it only seems appropriate that you have some pre-road trip, road trip, and pre-show beverages to get the party started. So we did. We're now all in our seats with about 10 minutes to go before show time, and two of our group (not naming names, Cully and Fully) decide that 10 minutes is plenty of time to get out of the auditorium, across the street and duck into a bar for one more pre-show beer. I warned that they'd never make it, but they countered with, "We've got loads of time for one beer, and worst case scenario, we miss a bit of the opening act." So away they went.
Ten minutes later, exactly on time, the house announcer says, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Stompin' Tom Connors!"
No opening act, and no sign of the thirsty travelers.
About twenty minutes into Tom's set, there is some minor commotion at the end of my row, and it's the boys, returning from their one (or three) bottles that they had plenty of time for. Now twenty minutes doesn't sound like a long time, but in the world of Stompin' Tom's music, they'd missed about 6 or 7 songs. If you're not familiar with his music, you need to know that Tom's songs usually clock in at about 2 1/2 minutes long. There is rarely a bridge or guitar solo to be found, and definitely no 10 minute long Gord Downey-like ramblings of obscurity. It's usually verse, chorus, verse, chorus, verse chorus, clap, next.
So after the boys get seated, Cully waits until the current song ends and the clapping stops to lean back in his seat, cup his hands to his mouth (for extra volume) and yells, "PLAY TILLSONBURG!" Again, for the uninitiated, "Tillsonburg" is one of Tom's many iconic hits. It's about the toils of tobacco picking in a small SW Ontario town not far from our homes in Woodstock. What a great suggestion...yes..we'd all like to hear that...again. You see, Tom had just played that song just before the boys had returned from their drinks. Needless to say, he got shot a few odd, and annoyed looks. I leaned over and whispered Cully the bad news. He didn't request any more songs that day.
After the show, Fully was insistent that we stick around and see if he was coming out to meet his fans and maybe sign a few things, and I'm glad we did. About 15 minutes after the show, he came out to a small table that was set up near his merchandise, sat down and began meeting and signing. When it was my turn, I handed him the free program that I received when I entered the hall and said, "It's an honour to meet you Mr. Connors. I've been listening to your music my entire life, my Dad had of some of your albums in our house" He looked up at me after signing his photo on the front of the program, started shaking my hand and said, "Mr. Connors was my Dad's name, you can call me Tom." It was a simple, yet amazing moment for me. I had heard that old chestnut of "Mr. ____ was my Dad's name..." many times before and since, but when he said it to me, it felt like he was the man that coined it. When our exchange ended, I stepped aside and it was Fully's turn. He didn't have his program, he may have left it at the bar across the street, but he needed to get something signed. He reached into his wallet, pulled out his fishing license and put it down in front of Tom. Tom looked up smiling at Fully and said, "In all these years, this is the first time I've signed someone's fishing license!" Strangely, I was surprised by that.
It was a great day, he was a great man, and an even Greater Canadian.
R.I.P, and thanks again for everything, Tom.
There'll never be another one like you.
All for now.
G'day.
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