Canadianity

by Jeremy Taggart

  Air Farce

  The first troupe that we’re aware of to make the successful leap from radio to TV, where their weekly CBC show was watched and adored by millions of viewers every week. Roger Abbott, Don Ferguson, Luba Goy, John Morgan and Dave Broadfoot blew the roof off the Broadcast Centre in Toronto every week at their live tapings. The Tim Hortons set and the Chicken Cannon were always the big draws at the CBC Open House every year. Their undeniable legacy aside, one of the reasons they epitomize BAHDdism is because the Air Farce was notoriously generous and loyal to its crew. Best gig in the business, by all accounts.

  22 Minutes

  Upon its premiere on TV in 1992, This Hour Has 22 Minutes was an instant hit. As in, Greg Thomey and Rick Mercer were catapulted into the stratosphere of fame. Canadian fame, but still. Cathy Jones and Mary Walsh were already famous-ish from Codco, but this show sealed the deal. The series has weathered some storms—mostly with casting and recasting issues, particularly in the wake of Rick’s departure—and like the town bike of Canadian TV, almost every comedic performer in the country has taken a ride at some point. It’s in great hands these days with Mark Critch, Shaun Majumder and unbelievable character performer Susan Kent.

  Stuart McLean

  A voice like honey dipped in tea, wrapped in bacon and swaddled in cotton nostalgia whose folksy, aw-shucks stories have entertained countless Canucks in books, on the radio and in live shows in every corner of the country. It’s scientifically proven that if you listen to a Vinyl Cafe story about Dave and Morley, there will be tears. There’s a good chance they’ll be from laughter.

  Canadianity Talk Shows

  Many have tried, but few have succeeded, for myriad reasons. Some tried to ape their American counterparts, while others relied too heavily on A-list guests who we just don’t have access to “up here.” Still others had to rely on Canadian “stars” of upcoming movies of the week, and no one cared.

  I don’t envy the plight of the Canadian talk show host, and I’m allowed to say so because I was one.

  When we started Jonovision, the guests on our first few shows acted the way they thought you were supposed to act and tried to channel the Springer-esque antics of their southern counterparts. I’ll never forget seeing the first promo when it ran on TV. It featured two sisters arguing and one of them said, “Don’t even go there, Angela.”

  Jesus. For the first year, people would say, “You’re on that ‘Don’t even go there, Angela’ show, right?”

  Mike Bullard

  Like him or not, there’s no denying Mike managed to do something that had never been done before with a Canadian talk show: make hundreds of episodes. He was always very kind to me and generous with his time when I appeared on Open Mike. I also worked with his hilarious brother Pat Bullard on a pilot in the early 2000s. Pat’s resumé includes hosting Love Connection and being the show-runner on Reba. Talented family.

  The Hour, with George Stroumboulopoulos

  No one can dispute that George has charm, cred and mad interview skills. His casual style puts even the biggest names at ease, often eliciting a “How did you find that clip?” from your Tom Cruises and such. It had a familiar brand with the red chairs, it had an engaging host, it had a solid run at 7 and 11 p.m. I actually worked on George’s CNN show, and it was a huge pleasure to watch him work the camera with no teleprompter and nail intro after intro, take after take. One of the best broadcasters Canada has ever seen, full stop.

  Dini Petty

  The poor (Canadian) woman’s Oprah.

  Shirley Solomon

  The poor woman’s Dini Petty.

  Camilla Scott

  This was the closest we had to Ricki Lake. Camilla was best known as a stage actress—and a darn good one—when CTV gave her a show in an attempt to carve into the booming afternoon talk show universe. Again, Camilla was fine, the topics were on point . . . it just felt like the guests were trying on their shocking revelations like ill-fitting Halloween costumes.

  Vicki Gabereau

  Vicki is one of the greatest interviewers this country has ever known, and her show was a perfect example of that. If you were interested in the guest, you’d surely dig the chat.

  Friday Night! with Ralph Benmergui

  I often refer to the “Ralph Benmergui Principle” in Canadian showbiz. When Ralph was co-hosting Midday with Valerie Pringle, that show rocked. They had chemistry, she was smart and charming, he was funny. So funny. In an environment where you wouldn’t expect someone to be. That’s the Benmergui Principle.

  It’s the same reason that “Please welcome a very funny person . . .” is the worst introduction you could ever be given. If I’m sitting in that audience, the first thing I do is cross my arms and think, “With an intro like that, this had better be awesome.”

  All this to say, when the CBC gave Ralph his own glitzy, glossy talk show, Friday Night! with Ralph Benmergui, suddenly the stakes were much higher.

  Again, let me stress how much respect I have for him. Our paths crossed quite a bit at the CBC and he was always super-kind, helpful and funny. So funny. I love Ralph. And he was the obvious and perfect choice to host a late-night show in Canada at that time.

  In that environment, though, it didn’t work. Ralph is the least of the reasons why. The floor was too shiny, the bits too forced, the guest pool too shallow. Maybe it was simply too American.

  Week 1 had Don Cherry and Scott Thompson as guests. Not bad. Then Leonard Cohen. Solid get.

  But soon it was the same old Canadian talk show story. The guests were a veritable “Who’s that?” of Canadian showbiz.

  In season 2, Ralph had a new leather jacket and a new attitude, but by then Friday Night! was in the critics’ crosshairs and it was too late. Too bad, and not really fair, but Friday Night! didn’t stand much of a chance to rebound, nor was it given one.

  Like the cool cat he is, Ralph landed on his feet and had a great career as a radio broadcaster. Then he moved to Hamilton, so he won at life.

  90 Minutes Live

  Now, I’m biased on this one because I’m such a Gzowski fan, but I loved this show. Go on YouTube and find Peter’s interview with Iggy Pop, or the “Pierre Berton vs. the Cuisinart” segment. Granted, Peter wasn’t the most telegenic host ever, and yes, there may have been cigarette ashes on his sweater and ties, but no one can argue it wasn’t authentic.

  Funny how, at the time, it was determined that Peter was just too uncomfortable to be on TV. In reality, he just didn’t fit the mould of a typical host.

  The Brent Butt Show

  It wasn’t a TV talk show, it was a weekly live talk show staged at a club in Vancouver. I happened to be in town one night and took a cab over to see it. As I opened the taxi door, I thought it had started to thunder. Nope. Just Brent absolutely destroying the crowd in his folksy, low-key way. It was the loudest laughter I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Inspiring.

  Award Shows

  America has the EGOT, which is the term for someone who wins an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar and a Tony award. Here in Canada, we have the JuCaGi, and no one to my knowledge has ever won all three—or said that word aloud.

  The Ju is for Juno, for achievement in music. Taggart has won thousands of Junos with Our Lady Peace. The Ca is for Canadian Screen Award, for achievement in television and film. I’ve won one and lost several. Until 2012, there were two separate categories for film and TV—the Genie Awards and the Gemini Awards. This required the production of two expensive shows, so the Academy (no, not that one) decided to merge the chocolate and the peanut butter. It’s now three nights long, to accommodate all the backslapping and deserved recognition. Just to be extra confusing, Quebec has its own Prix Gémeaux, which rewards excellence for artists inside Quebec. As Quebec should.

  The Gi is for Giller Prize, the top prize for achievement in literature. It’s named after the late journalist Doris Giller and was created in 1994 by her husband, Jack Rabinovitch, as a way to honour her. It comes with a lucrative cash award
, which might also be why it’s now the Scotiabank Giller Prize.

  Best Bahds

  Think of this as our TnT Hall of Canadianity.

  The Tragically Hip

  Torrens

  Much has been written by better and more knowledgeable wordsmiths than I about the cultural significance of the Tragically Hip. The Kingston band somehow managed to bridge the great divide between rural and urban, beer and wine, Queen Street and Main Street.

  They also chose to embrace their heritage and celebrate the moments that are distinctly ours. David Milgaard’s wrongful conviction in “Wheat Kings.” Bill Barilko’s disappearance in “Fifty Mission Cap.” Referencing the Christie Pits riot of ’33 in “Bobcaygeon.”

  Their reputation as total gentlemen, all class, is widely known too. It’s hard to overstate their impact on the musical landscape of this country, on young bands, on young minds.

  We tend to judge success based on the amount of traction artists are able to get elsewhere—primarily in the US—but unlike most Canadian artists, the Hip is all ours. They didn’t have to leave in order to make a living here.

  They didn’t have to rely on variety shows or press tours either. Whenever and wherever they played, people showed up. Right until the end, when their two-and-a-half-hour final concert aired on the CBC, consumed by 11.7 million people. The Hip could never be replaced.

  John Candy

  Taggart

  I know, everyone loves J.C. He’s like a band that never gets a bad review, like Radiohead or Ron Sexsmith. People smile when they hear his name. I think it’s by design, to be honest. He always said that all he ever wanted in life was to have people like him. I’ve always asked notable folk if they’ve ever met him, and if they have, they always respond similarly—“He was the best!” or “The ultimate bahd!” Never have I heard anything bad. It’s kind of nuts, because I’ve asked everyone from former Oilers players to journalists who covered him in Edmonton in the ’80s.

  My favourite J.C. tale involves the time the Tubes were on SCTV. They were guests on The Fishin’ Musician, a parody of The Red Fisher Show, a classic show that ran on CTV from 1968 to 1989 that was soaked in Canadianity. Red would have a guest at his lodge and they would fish all day, then eat what they caught after, all the while having a beauty of a chat.

  Apparently, when the Tubes arrived in Edmonton for the taping, a limo picked them up at the airport. The car was stocked to the max with party favourites, and right in the middle of it all was John, just laughing and waving the boys into it. They drank all the way to this lodge that was hours away from Edmonton, and then shot ridiculous footage of fishing and fooling around and a performance, did more partying, and finally made the long drive back to Edmonton. Well, when they got back to the hotel, it was around midnight and they were all banged up. John said to them, “Boys, it’s not last call for a couple of hours. Let’s hit the clubs!” At this point the Tubes were only able to hit their pillows to crash. John then hit them with “Suit yourself,” and the limo went downtown with a solo John.

  The life of the party and then some. I think Johnny LaRue was not too far away from John himself—maybe he was LaRue with a huge heart. He just wanted to hang out and enjoy life in the fullest way possible. Clearly it caught up to him, the harshness of that lifestyle, but without the anger and painful, egocentric nature of the typical party person.

  Whenever I visit Edmonton, he always pops into my head. It’s fun to just cruise around and pretend it’s 1983, hoping he might see me and fire a wave. Whenever I meet someone for the first time, I try to make a nice impression. Make them feel like we’re in this thing together, and its best we try to enjoy it, because who knows how long we’re going to be here.

  If there is a heaven, John Candy has a big role in the pearly gates walk-through. Talk about the host with the most! Be sincere. Be more like John Candy.

  Mr. Dressup

  Torrens

  People often ask me who my all-time favourite Jonovision guest was. Tough one, because there were so many interesting people on the show over the years. For me personally, broadcasting greats like Ron MacLean, Peter Mansbridge, Scott Russell. It was always fun to have the MuchMusic VJs on the show because they resonated with our audience. Sarah Polley was inspiring.

  It’s fun to look back and see who appeared on the show and went on to achieve great things. Tegan and Sara. Sum 41. Ryan Gosling.

  It should come as no surprise that Tom Green was the craziest guest we ever had. He rolled around in a kiddie pool full of honey and popcorn with a lucky audience member.

  It was quite a thrill to have Maestro Fresh Wes on to perform “Let Your Backbone Slide.” In recent years, of course, we’ve worked together on Mr. D and I’ve gotten to know Wes. He’s one of the most positive dudes I’ve ever met and still one of the greatest rap MCs this country has ever known. Certainly the first.

  But there was one undeniable favourite. With me, our audience and our crew.

  Ernie Coombs. You probably know him better as Mr. Dressup.

  He might’ve been born in the US, but every Canadian between the ages of twenty and seventy-eight will tell you that Mr. Dressup put the “fun” in fundamentals during their childhood development.

  The show wasn’t fancy or loud, but Mr. Dressup, with the help of his felt posse (Casey, Finnegan, Aunt Bird and Alligator Al), made crafts, sang songs and kept us company.

  Never before have I seen someone melt an audience faster than Ernie when he appeared on our show. Teenagers can often be too cool for school or sarcastic, but they instantly softened at the very sight of him.

  Over the years, through CBC Kids functions, Ernie and I got to spend some time with together on the road. Walking through an airport with that guy, you’d see people of all ages and stages part like the Red Sea and stare, mouths agape at their childhood idol. Through it all, Ernie remained humble, warm and befuddled at what all the fuss was about.

  One of my prized possessions is a coffee mug that Ernie gave to each of his crew during the final season. It says, simply, TICKLE TRUNK FOREVER.

  Jay and Dan

  Taggart

  Jay Onrait and Dan O’Toole are true bahds. I met Jay after a couple of back-and-forth gags on Twitter. I’m pretty sure he was talking about his liking for Popeyes chicken (Dan’s favourite!) in a tweet. I replied with my assumption that it’s a convenient way to eat, because you can shit through a straw after you eat it. Fast friends. A poop joke is the best way into J & D’s hearts.

  I began chatting with Jay, and we decided to meet up at Caplansky’s Deli in Toronto, right atop Jay’s old hood of Kensington Market. Jay turned me on to the insanely tasty pea soup there. Solid as a rock! We had a great lunch chatting about our mutual love of Canadianity, including Al Waxman and Jay’s attempt at becoming the next King of Kensington (he was writing a new version of the classic show starring himself), as well as great music. We hit the record/bookstore She Said Boom!, talked music and movies, and we’ve been great bahds ever since.

  Jay invited me on the Jay & Dan pod shortly after that, and although I was pretty nervous, it was a great time and I was well received by the fans of the show. So well that I ended up doing a regular segment on the show—reading Jay’s travel letters with my incredibly awful Australian accent, telling stories about my dad and tales from the road. I found both Jay and Dan had very similar views to my own, just like bahds do.

  The story that probably hooked Jay and Dan was, of course, about human waste . . . and the time my dad got banged up at Christmas dinner.

  I made the mistake of getting Dad a bottle of Scotch for Christmas. He started getting belligerent, and my mom had to take him home. There was a bad snowstorm going on and the roads were shitty. Dad had to pee and was asking, in a banged-up manner, for my mom to “Pull the fuck over!” so he could piss. Mom was worried that they’d get stuck in the snow if she got onto the shoulder. He kept ranting and raving until he said, “Okay then, fuck it!” Followed by a pregnant pause . .
. then “Aaaaaahhhh! I love it!”

  Yes, he pissed his seat. With a sick, pleasured face and acceptance. Pretty greasy. Mom wasn’t pleased, of course. Dad awoke the next morning with no memory of the events and was sick for three days. He was very sorry for the scene and called us all with apologies. He hasn’t touched Scotch since.

  That tale went over pretty well with Jay and Dan fans. It was the start of many more classic Ronnie stories.

  I went golfing with Dan at Wooden Sticks, a haunt for TSN personalities, because of the horny rate they’re given. We laughed the whole round and went to Dan’s place for dinner, and of course Dan ordered in Popeyes chicken. I gotta say, it was pretty tasty, and I didn’t shit through a straw afterwards!

  I’m so thankful to Jay and Dan for giving me the platform to opine upon my life. It’s opened so many doors for me since. They got me in with great people at TSN 1050, and Jay hooked me up with the legendary lawyer Gord Kirke, who has helped me with many issues, personal and professional. Jay’s also the reason this book is happening with HarperCollins. I met now-former HC editor Doug Richmond out with Jay at a Kensington bar and we started chatting music and books, and here we are!

  When Jay and Dan got snapped up by Fox Sports 1 in LA, I was sad, but not surprised. They are very talented, but also very real. Lots of people in media seem like they are super-nice and genuine, but most of the time it’s all put on to pander to the public. J & D are the absolute example of legit. Like I said, true bahds! They cemented their cult Canadianity status when they returned home to TSN after Fox Sports 1 cancelled their show in early 2017.

  Gordon Lightfoot

  Torrens

  My fascination with Gordon Lightfoot started in 2001, when I was working as a writer for the Juno Awards. Bruce Cockburn was being inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame, and it was decided that Lightfoot and David Suzuki would do the honours. It made sense. Suzuki would speak to Bruce’s accomplishments as an activist and Gordon would speak to his significant musical accomplishments. (As an aside, I remember when an interviewer asked Eddie Van Halen what it was like to be the best guitar player in the world and he said, “I don’t know, ask Bruce Cockburn!”)