The room was fancy and loud. Some Big Bank types were rubbing elbows with some Seamus O’Regans and Stuart McLeans and such. Because the room was unwieldy to begin with and L-shaped to boot, Shelagh invited Albert Schultz of Street Legal, Side Effects and Soulpepper Theatre Company fame (note: he only does things that start with the letter s) and me to be the spotters as the bids flew in.
Only problem was, they didn’t. People were tipsy and chatty and it was hard to track what was going on.
The bid got up to somewhere around $3,000, and poor Shelagh was trying everything in her power to drive it up. What seemed like several minutes passed, with the bidding stalled.
Sitting by the side of the stage, Margaret Atwood herself offered to throw in lunch with the winner. Solid incentive for Atwood fans.
That drove the bid up to $5,000, where it stalled again. In the semi-silence, I stage-whispered to Albert, “We should split it for $5,000 and take Atwood to Subway, ’cuz that would be funny.” He chuckled but didn’t bite.
I’ve been in that position as a host before, and Shelagh is far better and more experienced than me. She was no doubt waiting for something, anything, to move things along so she could wrap it up.
She had heard what I’d said to Albert behind her back and said into the mic, “Jonathan has offered to split it with someone—right, Jonathan?”
I was a little drunk. All eyes were on me. I didn’t feel I could renege. So I smiled and nodded.
Rebecca Eckler, a reporter from the National Post, sitting near the front, agreed to split it for $7,000, and the next thing I knew Shelagh was saying, “Sold to Rebecca and Jonathan for $7,000.”
Seven thousand dollars. Meaning my half was $3,500.
I couldn’t even remember what I’d “won” until Rebecca approached me afterwards and said that she’d read Margaret Atwood to her daughter in the womb when she was pregnant and would really love to have the handwritten predictions. But I could have the decanter.
And I could take Margaret Atwood to lunch. Which, to this day, I still never have, but should. It would be fun. There’s someone else whose reputation I’ll bet is far removed from who she actually is. Sources say she’s deadly funny.
Not sure whatever happened to the crystal decanter either, but Shelagh is still a great friend, and you can’t put a price on that.
Oh, wait—yes, you can. It’s $3,500.
British Columbia Gotta Do’s
HOOVER a Happy Tuna sushi roll at Blue Ginger in Nanaimo.
BANG OUT a pedicure with cocktails at Tigh-Na-Mara Seaside Spa Resort in Parksville.
BUTCHER a scone or croissant at Bodhi’s in Nanaimo.
PUMMEL a chocolate ganache brownie at Cascadia Bakery in Victoria.
ANNIHILATE a hike at Pinnacles Provincial Park in Quesnel.
Newfoundland and Labrador: Day Boilers and Alan Doylers
Bahd Bands
So many!
Great Big Sea
Fortunate Ones
The Once
The Ennis Sisters
Hey Rosetta!
The Irish Descendants
Thomas Trio and the Red Albino
Rawlins Cross
Figgy Duff
Repartee
Ron Hynes
Colleen Power
The Dardanelles
Five Notable Bahds
For some reason, narrowing it down to just five is especially hard in Newfoundland and Labrador. Fortunately, Rick Mercer, Gordon Pinsent and the Codco/22 Minutes crowd are covered elsewhere in this book.
Andy Jones. Stole the movie Rare Birds out from under William Hurt. Brother to Cathy (of 22 Minutes fame) and father to Codco, Andy is one of Canada’s all-time best and most committed comedic performers. That he’s so selective about what he does makes him that much more intriguing.
Ed Riche. Ed has written many funny books, but Rare Birds is arguably the funniest. So funny, it was turned into a movie starring William Hurt and Andy Jones!
Joey Smallwood. Brought Newfoundland into Canada in 1949. Perhaps a divisive character in Newfoundland and Labrador, but his accomplishments are hard to argue with.
Bob Cole. The voice of Hockey Night in Canada. “Oh baby.”
Seamus O’Regan. From Canada AM to Canadian MP.
Bonus Bahd
Shannon Tweed! Synonymous with erotic thrillers. Married some guy with a really long tongue.
Give ’Er
Torrens
This is my favourite fact about the Rock, and it tells you everything you need to know: Newfoundlanders make the lowest average income per capita in Canada but give the most to charity. Doesn’t that say a lot about a group of humans?
Speaking of clich-ehs being at least partly true, the ones that say Newfoundlanders are warm and funny and love to party? Those are certainly true.
Not too long ago, the Yuk Yuk’s comedy club in St. John’s closed down. I was talking to Steve Dylan, a standup comic and turbo-bahd. His feeling was it might not have lasted because it’s the only club in the country where the hecklers are almost always funnier than whoever’s onstage. Usually, seasoned comics get pretty good at the art of the shutdown, but Steve said that in that club, you’d often have to stop and acknowledge that the heckle was actually hilarious.
Crushin’ the Rock
Taggart
The first time I arrived on the rock, I felt like I was at a family reunion. Like I was with my Dad’s Glaswegian clan. Everyone talks to you like they knew you already, or they don’t care who you are and you better be noice! There’s an air of “Try to be cool and fit in, or fuck off!” I love the slight harshness and the way they use local slang even though they know you haven’t a clue what it means.
My first cab ride from the airport was classic. I had to ask so many questions just to understand what the driver was saying. The amount of creativity in each slang word was mind-boggling. I was blown away. You gotta keep your ears peeled!
One time I was with some good friends from the Bally Haly golf club in St. John’s, Jason Hill and Andy George, two prime examples of how great the people from St. John’s are. We were playing golf in the early afternoon and having drinks. Little did I know that I was having myself a “day boiler.” I asked them what the hell that meant, and they told me it’s when you get banged up during the day. Try to tell me that’s not the most classic phrase for that circumstance, ever!
Even the bigwigs in St. John’s have big hearts. I was playing the Mile One Centre with OLP in the late ’90s and it was a great show, packed and all that stuff. We met Alan Doyle and the other boys from Great Big Sea, and they invited us to an after-party they had arranged. We went to the club that they had closed for the party, and we walked in to see the most lobster on ice we’ve ever seen. What a great night we had, crushing lobster, getting banged up and kissing cods.
What a beautiful place. Everyone knows everyone like it’s a small town, and if you give respect, you get respected. “Take it as you see it” seems to be the underlying motto there. Too big for your britches? You probably won’t like it there, real quick. Anyone I know who suffers from ego trips can’t stand the place. A quick and easy way to find out if someone is worth any salt is if they’ve been to St. John’s and loved it. If they didn’t, you know that you can drop them like a hot rock.
I played the Salmon Festival in Grand Falls a couple times with OLP. The first time, we had to wait forever to play because Dr. Hook was super-late. We went on at, like, 1 a.m. Whatev-salad, it was still a gas. Another time we played with the local and great Hey Rosetta!, one of my favourite Canadian bands, as well as Akon, the rapper. Funny story: Akon was pissed off because he’d played Detroit the night before, and because Grand Falls is linked with Windsor, Newfoundland, he thought they were playing in Windsor, Ontario—hahaha! Imagine what he thought when they were heading to the airport instead of making a quick run across the bridge or tunnel into Canada. Not to mention the three-hour drive from Gander. So funny. He played a fantastic show an
yway. The crowd went crazy for him.
REALtor or FAKEtor
The weirdest free-giveaway ad we ever saw was on Craigslist in LA. A woman was giving away avocados from the tree in her backyard to anyone over five feet, six inches tall.
She’d picked all the ones she could reach.
Guess from the following Kijiji ads which ones were really up for grabs for nada!
1.Labrador City: Free fifteen-by-twenty-foot free-standing pressure-treated deck
2.Gander: Free hugs
3.St. John’s: Covered litter box for cat
4.Stephenville: Sixteen feet of Sonotube, six inches around
5.St. John’s: Small amount of rhubarb
Only number 2 is fake. The rest were actual ads.
Some Day on Clothes, B’y
Torrens
Several years ago, I shot a movie in St. John’s. It was a cute little indie feature called The Bread Maker, written by my hugely talented and funny friend Sherry White.
I should’ve known I was in for a unique experience when, as the plane was preparing to land, the captain came on the intercom and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a windy one down there, which will make landing a bit of an adventure. But, we’ll take a crack at ’er.”
“Take a crack at ’er”? That was not confidence-instilling at all.
The colourful language of Newfoundland and Labrador has been well documented, and I got my first taste of it the moment I sat in the back seat of a cab from the airport. The driver, wearing a cap straight outta Newsies, turned around and said, “Some day on clothes, b’y.”
I really wanted to know what he meant, but I just didn’t.
Turns out “some day on clothes” is what you say on a windy day, meaning it’s a good time to hang your wash out on the clothesline.
On the other hand, if it’s too windy, you replay with “Naw, b’y, it’s a wraparound.” ’Cuz it’s so windy your clothes will wrap around the line.
I loved my time in St. John’s. The production rented me a spot on Battery Road on the way to Signal Hill. It’s easy to put on a lot of miles walking around that town. The scenery is so spectacular, you almost don’t notice the hills. Almost.
On a couple of weekends, I rented a car and just drove. It’s easy to fall in love with the place. It has such natural charm and character—like your grandpa’s cardigan with elbow patches and a Werther’s in the pocket.
My favourite destination was an inn called the Fishers’ Loft, in Port Rexton, out near Trinity. World-class food, views and rooms. At that time, the Fishers’ three-legged dog would guide you on hikes out around the beaches and cliffs. The Fishers’ Loft has since been taken over by Luke Fisher, whom I’ve known for a long time. He was an assistant director on films around Halifax and played the fiddle in bands too. He and his partner Molly Sexton moved back when they had a baby, and now he and his brother run the inn.
Which brings up a good point about people from Newfoundland. When I was working on The Bread Maker, the crew was borderline intimidating because no one excelled in just one artistic arena. The costume designer also played in a band. The assistant director was also a painter. The props folks were also dancers. And on the weekends, they would take turns volunteering to work at each other’s shows. Artists in the truest sense because they stayed in the place they loved and made art for art’s sake. Isolation breeds collaboration. It was inspiring to witness and even be a part of for that brief time.
Bahd Ambassadors
Fortunate Ones
Andrew and Cat are a duo in music and in life. And they’re totally adora-bahds. If you haven’t, you should buy their Christmas album. They take on Kenny and Dolly’s “Christmas without You” and win! Here are their tips for N & L.
•Adelaide Oyster House has created, perhaps, the world’s greatest fish taco. It consists of a beer-battered portion of the mighty Atlantic codfish, smothered in fiery adobo sauce (great for a cold night in Sin Jawn’s), a sprinkling of purple cabbage, jalapeno, thinly sliced radish and cilantro. Spritz a bit of fresh lime juice on there—friggin’ wicked. They also have a deadly cocktail called the El Camino, which has tequila, cilantro, jalapeno, homemade citrus bar mix and margarita salt. Sweet and spicy. Amazing staff, good music and a great atmosphere, Adelaide is a must-go while visiting the capital city.
•Bonavista Social Club is a small, family-run restaurant in Upper Amherst Cove. Before you enter the restaurant, which was designed and built by the owner’s master carpenter father, you’ll be taken by the stunning view—rolling hills, a vast bay, incredible sunsets and a scattered whale. The BSC has a large, homegrown organic garden that provides all the produce found in the menu items. The chefs also use meat, milk and cheese from animals that live, free range, on the premises. The menu is small and perfectly refined. You’ll find moose ragout on hand-rolled pasta, wood-fired pizza, fresh fish, warm bread with salt and rosemary butter and delicious rhubarb lemonade. The moose burger is unreal and you’ll have trouble not pounding several. Exceptional service, beautiful scenery and amazing food make the Bonavista Social Club a must on any trip down the Bonavista highway.
•Skerwink Trail in Port Rexton is one of our favourite hikes in the province. It is a hilly 5K that takes you along a stunning portion of the coast of Trinity Bay. Plunging cliffs and incredible scenery define the trail, and on a good day you’ll see lots of whales and sea birds. After the hike, make your way to the new Port Rexton Brewing Company. They’re quickly becoming mythic in Newfoundland for creating some of the province’s finest craft beer. Be sure to try the IPA and the porter. Bring a DD. It’d be a sin not to crush several of their frosty soldiers.
You Can’t Outcharm the Codfather
Torrens
For the CBC’s fiftieth anniversary, I was honoured to be one of very few Ceeb-lebrities™ who were chosen to greet Her Majesty when she visited the Broadcast Centre for a very special eighteen-minute period to mark this auspicious occasion.
Gordon Pinsent was chosen. Rick Mercer too.
To say we had to go to Queen school is a bit of an overstatement, but we certainly had to learn specific royal protocol in the weeks leading up to the visit. Don’t hold out your hand to shake unless she does, don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t call her Liz, don’t put your hand on the small of the Queen’s back (as a premier did once). Things that should be fairly obvious but bear repeating.
I happen to have it on good authority from a police friend of mine who’s detailed Her Maj before that she has a great sense of humour and loves to keep those closest to her on their toes. One story he told me involved her motorcade suddenly and unexpectedly exiting the highway because, as they later found out, Liz wanted french fries from a drive-thru.
She apparently totally “gets” that she’s the Queen and, in typical British fashion, is quite self-deprecating. I love that.
So I passed Queen school with flying colours and the words of the organizers ringing in my ears: Don’t stray from the script. DON’T.
My script was quite formal, as you might expect. It dovetailed out of Gordon Pinsent’s line before me and I had it properly memorized: “Your Majesty, the CBC is also a place to laugh. For five decades now, Canadians from coast to coast to coast have made this their destination . . . blah, blah, blah.”
To be honest, I hadn’t really given much thought to how cool this was. I’d been busy travelling back and forth to LA and guest-hosting This Hour Has 22 Minutes.
On the episode of 22 that had aired the night before, I had done a Linden MacIntyre impression, wherein the Fifth Estate journalist was investigating his own soul. It was kind of niche-y, but my “Linden lilt” is pretty good, if I do say so myself. His wife, Carol Off, agrees and she even interviewed me about it on As It Happens.
The reason Linden is relevant: there I was, standing on Queen Row as Her Majesty approached. I suddenly got very nervous as Gordon Pinsent charmed the crown right off her. With his gravelly voice and twinkly eyes, she was laughing like a scho
olgirl.
I felt butterflies in my stomach and my mouth went dry as she was guided over to me. “That’s the Queen,” I thought.
As I was being introduced, I licked my lips while looking directly in her eyes. “This is Jonathan Torrens, he’s an actor and producer here.”
The Queen said, “Oh, you’re a producer, are you?”
All I could think was Stick to the script. Stick to the script. How was I supposed to get from what she said to what I was supposed to say?
I looked around to collect my thoughts and made direct eye contact with Linden MacIntyre over the Queen’s shoulder. He gave me the “I’m watching you” eyes, as a joke. Or was it? Had he seen last night’s 22? Was he offended? I thought, I’ll have to find him later and take his temperature on it. Right now, I’d better say something to the Queen of England.
“Yeah, yeah. But Your Majesty, the CBC is also a place to laugh . . .”
I yeah-yeah’d the Queen. All the girlish Gordonness evaporated and I stumbled through the rest of my spiel. Then she was gone. To Rick Mercer. Who also reduced her to clotted cream in his hands.
As I was taking a deep breath, suddenly Prince Philip was in my face.
“What do you do here?” he asked.
“Oh, I work in kids TV.”
“Is that you there?” he pointed over my shoulder.
I turned around to see a Muppet from Sesame Park (the Canadian version of Sesame Street) on display. When I turned back around to explain, he was gone.
Getting dissed by Prince Philip was, oddly enough, my highlight of the night.
One of my favourite Gordon Pinsent stories comes from when they were shooting The Shipping News in Newfoundland. Kevin Spacey was the star, and he brought half a dozen security guards with him from LA.
They realized quite quickly that he wouldn’t need much security because Newfoundlanders couldn’t give a frozen cod tongue who he was. So they sent most of the guards back to California, but erected some concrete girders to keep the crowd back instead.
Canadianity Page 15
