How do I get to Yorkville? Practise!

Friday afternoons in the mid-1960s had a special rhythm for me. While most of my high-school pals gathered in the corridors to plot their party plans for the weekend, I left class early to catch the Sheppard Avenue bus west from Agincourt. With my trumpet case in hand, about 5 o’clock I caught the southbound Yonge Street bus, then the subway from Eglinton to Bloor. And then I walked west on Yorkville Avenue into what everybody called “the Village.” There, just before Avenue Road, I climbed up a back-alley fire-scape staircase to a third-floor rehearsal studio.

“Hi, Donny,” I’d call out to my trumpet teacher Don Johnson.

“Come on in and warm up that horn,” he’d tell me.

It took me a few visits in 1965 to discover I had climbed to the top of a Yorkville landmark, and an even more important music mecca. (more…)

Creating for nothing. Not!

Magazine publisher Ritchie Yorke, left, hobnobbed with the biggest rock stars, including John Lennon of the Beatles. He wasn’t nearly as friendly with his writer-contributors.

I’m often asked what it’s like being a freelancer – someone who creates often without knowing whether the work will ever be published. Suffice to say, it’s a speculative jungle out there. I know. As a newspaper and magazine writer for some 40 years, I’ve been eaten alive whole more than a few times. A bit of background:

In the late 1960s, I enrolled at Ryerson (before it was a university) in the Radio and Television Arts program. While working towards my diploma (1968-1971) I craved a taste of the real writing world, so I began submitting ideas for features to magazines and newspapers.

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Summer is music to my ears

Drummer and Lighthouse band leader Skip Prokop epitomized music in the summer in Canada with 1972 hit song/album “Sunny Days.”

I have lots of thoughts associated with this time of year. Most are memories of the beginnings of summers past. The smell I most relate to this time of year is that of a high school locker; this time, it had to be cleaned out right to the bottom. The sight I most associate with early summer is an open road. It seemed with the first of July we drove to a cottage, a farm, maybe a campground. And the sound? Yes, mosquitoes, but mostly…

“Sittin’ in the sun and listenin’ to rock and roll,” sang Skip Prokop. “Sunny, sunny, sunny days…”

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Why is it news?

With all that celebrity around, it's possible nobody noticed the football game that took place in Indianapolis.

I don’t know which was worse: the hype over last weekend’s so-called sporting match in Indianapolis, the anticipation over the new 30-second commercials (reportedly costing US$3.6 million each for the airtime), or the guessing about what Madonna would do during her half-time show at the Super Bowl. The newspapers, magazines and TV commentators were all atwitter all week.

“Would she employ her thin veneer English accent?” one asked.

“Would she be naked?” hoped another.

My answer was a resounding: “Who cares?”

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