MacLean and MacLean:
One evening, the MacLean brothers visited my after-hours club, and we quickly hit it off as friends. I joined them in performing the second oldest recorded song in the English language, an old Scottish ballad titled "The Lobster." I earned the nickname "Lobsterman," though my singing voice left much to be desired. Initially, I approached the performance with a laid-back attitude, but as I began to care more about how I sounded, I encountered my first bout of stage fright. I would often break into a sweat before taking the stage.
One particular night, i forgot the words. After a pause during a chorus, Gary shot me a quizzical glance and asked, “Did you forget the words?” I nodded, my mind racing in search of the lyrics. “You arsehole!” Gary chimed in, ever the supportive friend. Miraculously, I managed to recall the words and finished the song, after which I didn't experience as much trouble with stage fright again.
Another cherished memory involves my good friend, Murray McLaughlin. I often dragged him along to performances, though he wasn’t particularly fond of being in the spotlight. One night, while playing at "The Chimney" on Yonge Street, we found ourselves with an hour to spare between shows. Seated in the dressing room with a couple of friends, we began to sing show tunes over a few Heinekens. The laughter was infectious, and despite their reluctance, the MacLeans and I showcased an impressive repertoire of songs. I can still picture the dressing room door swinging open, revealing a bewildered audience witnessing Murray McLaughlin and the MacLean brothers belting out "Oklahoma" at full volume.
Later that night, we ended up in the boys’ hotel room. Gary and I were trying to impress a couple of lovely young ladies when he asked Murray to sing "The Farmer’s Song" for us. Murray, ever gracious, picked up a guitar and delivered a beautiful rendition. After he finished, Gary expressed his gratitude, joking, “Thanks, Murray, that was lovely. It’s just like when I’m at a party and someone asks me to perform ‘The Shit Routine.’”
Sundays were particularly special, at my bar as I would host gatherings for anyone in town, complete with free drinks, a lavish seafood dinner, and a jam session. The MacLean brothers thrived in this setting, serving as excellent bartenders. One moment that stands out was when Burton Cummings perched on my kitchen counter, singing "I Got a Letter from the Postman," with the MacLeans and Murray harmonizing alongside him. It was truly magical.
One night we were playing the Ell Macombo upstairs. It was late start with the last show starting at midnight. I sat alone at our table as the boys started the show. I had noticed a large table with a half dozen chairs leaning in and a big reserved sign. About.about 5 minutes into the show there was a rush of guys to the table and a quick order of drinks. My eyes were used to the darkened room and soon recognized Billy Joel. It was him and his band. They had just played maple leaf Gardens.
So when I got up to sing the lobster song there is a verse where you can pick somebody off and i sang it thus.
That is the End
There isn't anymore.
There is an apple up me arsehole
And Billy Joel can have the core.
Afterwards we all go together with Billy and the band in the dressing room. The bar sent up cases of Heinekens and we were having a grand time. Billy raved about the show. But all he seemed to remember was me. He was so surprised when I used his name he laughed and laughed. It never pays to upstage the stars of the show. We remained friends but the maCleans never asked me to sing again.