When I was
a kid, we went to church a lot and at Sunday Mass, the ushers took up a
collection. On some days, when the church was involved in a special
project somewhere — like helping lepers,
say — there’d be a second whiparound, and
the priest would tell us, it’s “for the missions.”
a kid, we went to church a lot and at Sunday Mass, the ushers took up a
collection. On some days, when the church was involved in a special
project somewhere — like helping lepers,
say — there’d be a second whiparound, and
the priest would tell us, it’s “for the missions.”
Last night,
in a bar near my house, I heard that same story. Ish.
in a bar near my house, I heard that same story. Ish.
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| CHARMING BILLY: He puts the impress into impresario |
The band’s second
set of the evening was about to wind down and a guy with a sailor’s hat, sailor’s beard and wielding a big
glass jar told the packed bar about the church collections of his Catholic
childhood then added “and now we’re taking up a second collection — for the
musicians.” He made “musicians” sound like “missions.”
set of the evening was about to wind down and a guy with a sailor’s hat, sailor’s beard and wielding a big
glass jar told the packed bar about the church collections of his Catholic
childhood then added “and now we’re taking up a second collection — for the
musicians.” He made “musicians” sound like “missions.”
You had to be there.
The man who made the joke is Bill Heffernan, and if I had time, talent or energy I could write a book about him.(Read more about Bill’s adventures here
but don’t even think about it until you’ve finished my blog.)
but don’t even think about it until you’ve finished my blog.)
But this isn’t about him as much as it is his party; a party, that is, that I think you ought to attend next time you’re in Toronto.
I was at one yesterday, Saturday
afternoon. At a bar about 700 giant steps from my house called the Inter Steer Heffernan once again hosted a weekly musical event I shall refer to as“Billy’s
Thing” because I don’t know what else to call it.
afternoon. At a bar about 700 giant steps from my house called the Inter Steer Heffernan once again hosted a weekly musical event I shall refer to as“Billy’s
Thing” because I don’t know what else to call it.
If somebody asked me
to choose five of the most memorable attractions for a recently arrived tourist in this
city, Bill’s Saturday party at The Inter Steer would top the list.
to choose five of the most memorable attractions for a recently arrived tourist in this
city, Bill’s Saturday party at The Inter Steer would top the list.
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| THIS HIGH: The answer to your question, “how high does the Inter Steer set the bar?” |
He’s been
running the whatchamacallits for going on 13 years. What they are are late-afternoon jam sessions featuring
an ever-changing troupe of some of the most talented folk, bluegrass
and celtic musicians I’ve come across.
Admission
is free but as I said a few paragraphs ago, they pass the jug a few times. The
Inter Steer bar (or as regulars call it, The Steer) is unpretentious and the
crowd’s welcoming. Food’s good too.
is free but as I said a few paragraphs ago, they pass the jug a few times. The
Inter Steer bar (or as regulars call it, The Steer) is unpretentious and the
crowd’s welcoming. Food’s good too.
I don’t go
to Billy’s thing every Saturday but some people sure do and I don’t blame them.
to Billy’s thing every Saturday but some people sure do and I don’t blame them.
Last night,
when I arrived at about 6:15, the performer was rocking out an acoustic version
of Tom Petty’s “I won’t back down” and get this: The entire bar was singing
along.
when I arrived at about 6:15, the performer was rocking out an acoustic version
of Tom Petty’s “I won’t back down” and get this: The entire bar was singing
along.
Right now,
you’re thinking, “does life get any hokier than that?”
you’re thinking, “does life get any hokier than that?”
Meantime, I’m like, “I love it.”
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| RANKIN FILE: Mary Rankin, another Caped Breton Crusader |
I was
immediately yanked back to my home in Sudbury, where my older brother
Tom’s friends — Joe Nichols, Moe Sauve or my cousin Gerard MacIsaac — hauled
out six strings and got everybody singing and drinking and laughing. (Regular readers of this blog know I grew up
on Walton Mountain. We Carters were a big
sprawling church-going party-loving family and just like John Boy, the handsomest and
funniest of the bunch grew up to be a journalist. But I digress.)
Back to
Billy’s Thing.
Billy’s Thing.
Every time
I’ve attended one of these jam sessions, I’ve made friends and yesterday, I met singer Mary Rankin who — it turns out — has roots in the same part of the world as my mom; i.e., Inverness County, Nova Scotia. Around those parts, the name Rankin is synonymous
with angelic voices and talent; Mary’s carrying on the tradition with grace and
charm.
I’ve attended one of these jam sessions, I’ve made friends and yesterday, I met singer Mary Rankin who — it turns out — has roots in the same part of the world as my mom; i.e., Inverness County, Nova Scotia. Around those parts, the name Rankin is synonymous
with angelic voices and talent; Mary’s carrying on the tradition with grace and
charm.
Plus she
was as friendly as one of my down east cousins. (Believe me, not only does that bunch set
the hospitality bar high, they open it way before noon.)
was as friendly as one of my down east cousins. (Believe me, not only does that bunch set
the hospitality bar high, they open it way before noon.)
Another performer from yesterday’s thing looked like he could have just pulled up on a fishing trawler but
sang some Irish ballads so beautifully he’d make a rock cry. His name’s Kevin Kennedy.
sang some Irish ballads so beautifully he’d make a rock cry. His name’s Kevin Kennedy.
One after
another and sometimes together, for three hours they played. In
addition to Heffernan and the others I mentioned, yesterday’s players were Michelle
Rumball, Michael O’Grady and Alex Fraser. The last guy — Fraser — plays the Steer I think every Wednesday night and he’s Spotify personified. Name a song. He’ll nail it.
another and sometimes together, for three hours they played. In
addition to Heffernan and the others I mentioned, yesterday’s players were Michelle
Rumball, Michael O’Grady and Alex Fraser. The last guy — Fraser — plays the Steer I think every Wednesday night and he’s Spotify personified. Name a song. He’ll nail it.
The last
piece I heard before heading home yesterday was an inner ear-worming rendition of what I think should
be Newfoundland’s National Anthem — Sonny’s Dream by the late Ron Hynes.
piece I heard before heading home yesterday was an inner ear-worming rendition of what I think should
be Newfoundland’s National Anthem — Sonny’s Dream by the late Ron Hynes.
Got home by
8:15. Which is not a bad thing. Like
Yogi Berra might have said, “it sure gets late early these days.”
8:15. Which is not a bad thing. Like
Yogi Berra might have said, “it sure gets late early these days.”
Billy’s thing: Saturdays at The Inter Steer Restaurant. 357
Roncesvalles Ave., Toronto.
Roncesvalles Ave., Toronto.
You can
crash at our place if you like.
crash at our place if you like.
Sounds like it was a great line up. I always love hearing Mike O'Grady. Fyi, its called Billy Hefferman's Saturday Sessions
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Appreciate that, Unknown writer. See you there sometime I hope.
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