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hermaneutics

Public Washrooms — The Holy Grail of Self Actualization?

by Herman Goodden

GK

Chesterton who will be indiscernibly celebrating his 142nd birthday this Sunday (while I more raucously commemorate my 64th on this side of the sod) wrote a brilliant parable about the folly of witlessly overthrowing longstanding traditions.

In the introductory chapter to Heretics, his 1905 collection of essays in which he

www.londonyodeller.ca Publisher Bruce Monck bruce@londonyodeller.ca Editor Herman Goodden editor@londonyodeller.ca Layout Kirtley Jarvis EVENTS Alysha Monck info@londonyodeller.ca Contributors Paula Adamick / Ciara Allen Dave Clarke / Joseph Couture Nida Home Doherty / Adam Corrigan Holowitz Ian Hunter / Tim Kavanagh Deanne Kondrat / Andrew Lawton Bob McKenzie / Menno Meijer Robert Pegg / Jason Rip Jeffrey Schiller / Sean Twist David Warren / Barry Wells Advertising & Marketing

CITY MEDIA

yodeller@citymedia.ca

519-858-1770 / 888-879-6085 Published Bi-Weekly Next issue: June 9, 2016 Printed in Bracebridge, ON © 2016

Front cover by ANDREW LEWIS This illustration is adapted from an Old South neighbourhood poster print available at Westland Gallery in 3 sizes on archival papers www.alewisdesign.com www.westlandgallery.ca

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takes on the shabby thinking of a whole raft of contemporary writers, he imagines a scenario where a festering crowd has gathered in the street near the base of an old gaslight which many influential people are agitating to pull down: “A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, ‘Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good . . .’ At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp post, the lamp post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people have pulled the lamp post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash anything. And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, today, tomorrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas lamp, we now must discuss in the dark.”

I must admit I feel a similar Chestertonian befuddlement bordering on exasperation at the spectacle unfolding all around us today as apparently serious, forward-thinking types insist that only bigots and tyrants would be so heartless as to insist that people with penises should use washrooms and changing rooms designated for men and that those with other personal plumbing arrangements should use facilities set aside for women. There are people I have hitherto regarded as sane (though not necessarily bright) who are exerting whatever sort of pressure they can to have this tradition of immemorial standing overthrown.

One such is President Barrack Hussein Obama of the United States who earlier this month called on all state-funded schools in the land, from elementary through to university, to allow their students to use whichever sort of washroom

best accords – not with the equipment they were endowed with at birth or which surgeons have subsequently and crudely reconfigured – but with whatever sense of gender identity they happen to hold today. So far only a few educators and governors have told Obama he can go pound sand; most, sadly and

predictably, are gritting their teeth and acquiescing lest that funding tap should suddenly go dry.

According to President Barry’s progressive edict, that burly chap over there with a luxurious beard (his manhood stubbornly intact and pendulous hands the size of canned hams) should be able to push his way into the ladies’ room without incurring any objections or complaint. That he is indisputably male doesn’t matter a jot. If he says he woke up this morning feeling inexplicably girly, then no one should be allowed to gainsay his entry.

And

of course, we’re expecting heavy two way traffic over this marvelous bridge that spans the fluid spectrum of gender expression.

And speaking of heavy flow, there’s even been a call for men’s rooms to now come equipped with special disposal bins for sanitary products to serve the anticipated invasion of menstruating females who identify as male. Also a half dozen or so deep thinking pop stars including Bruce Springsteen, Bryan Adams and Ringo Starr have done their bit to stamp out resistance to this madness by announcing that they will play no concerts in North Carolina until that benighted state rescinds its newly minted law that students in that jurisdiction should continue to use the washroom which

corresponds to their biological sex.

For the vast majority of the human population – those who don’t undergo an identity crisis upon sighting a male or female pictogram on a washroom door and believe that society needs to fix that – visiting a public washroom is pretty uncomplicated. It isn’t about affirming our persona of the moment or registering our own unique position on the spectrum of gender expression.

Washrooms are not psychiatrists’ offices or churches that are there to affirm us in our okayness. They are a convenience that certain institutions provide for carrying out some pretty mundane functions and depending on the equipment you currently employ, you either nip into this room or that one and it really doesn’t have to be a big deal.

There’s no need to talk to anyone else who might happen to be in there. You don’t even have to say hello or meet their eyes. Washrooms aren’t about you as an individual; they’re about you as an anonymous and insignificant member of an enormous group which either pees with one of these or one of those. They aren’t about what you take away from the experience of visiting one; they’re about what you’ve managed to successfully unload and flush away and good riddance to all that.

The traditional biform configuration of public washrooms harkens back to an era that valued privacy, modesty, discretion and (here comes a triggering word, snowflakes) segregation in the service of preserving some semblance of dignity and mystery in the relations between the sexes. At this particular historical moment when a bearded chanteuse can win the ever-drippy Eurovision Song Contest and Glamour magazine anoints Bruce Jenner as its ‘Woman of the Year’, I suppose one shouldn’t be too surprised to see this infantile preoccupation with private parts and personal feelings is wreaking political havoc as well. And hey, isn’t it great that there aren’t any more serious issues that our legislators should be addressing?

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Herman Goodden — When separate washrooms for men and women become contentious, is there anything left that we agree on?

THE CONTRARIAN Tim Kavanagh — Hey, City Councillors! We elected you to make decisions for us. Enough with the constant referendums

YODELLING IN THE CANYON Barry Wells — Anyone who thinks baseball is boring wasn’t paying attention to the goings on in Labatt Park in 1975 LAYING DOWN THE LAWTON Andrew Lawton — If City Council wants development downtown, why do they hamstring it every chance they get?

DAPPLED THINGS Paula Adamick — London, England’s new mayor, Sadiq Khan, now becomes the most powerful Muslim politician in the Western world

HISTORY LESSON David Warren — On the 50th anniversary of the Cultural Revolution, an examination of what it’s like when a society goes mad PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS Jeffrey Schiller — Fionn MacCool’s shows that with ingenuity and dedication, a chain restaurant can deliver the goods

PEGG’S WORLD Bob Pegg — A documentary about the 1968 battle between Buckley and Vidal suggests incivility of political discourse is nothing new ESSAYS IN IDLENESS David Warren — An age fixated on equality and the impermanence of contracts and bonds, doesn’t have much use for the concept of fealty BOOK CULTURE Ian Hunter— If Nightfall is Richard B. Wright’s swansong, one of Canada’s finest novelists has capped off his career on a high note

Father’s Day Special Receive 20% off any Custom Framing order

YODELLER FEATURE Herman Goodden — In a excerpt from his new book, Three Artists: Kurelek, Chambers & Curnoe, Herman Goodden looks at Jack Chambers’ mixed feelings in his first encounter with the Old World DISPATCHES FROM DYSTOPIA Ciara Allen — No one says you have to shave your legs but let’s be real – most women do

FOREST CITY FOLK Menno Meijer— Things are spinning and taking shape at the London Clay Arts Centre THEN PLAY ON Dave Clarke — Around Town: The Pack A.D. at Call the Office / Mondo Phono: Bill McFadden & The Mummy / Lost Classic: The Jackson Sisters / Shortlisted: Five Cool Songs from Bad Movies

LOOK AT THIS Nida Home Doherty — William St. Thomas Smith from St. Thomas – one of the finest marine painters and watercolourists UNCLE BRUCE Advice Column — So your increasingly dotty mother watches the Weather Channel all day and you wonder why she’s alarmed and depressed?

ALL THAT I SURVEY Joseph Couture — If there ever was a gay community in the first place, it’s been quite thoroughly decimated by the internet

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Jason Rip — Ordinarily a clown called Betty Bubbles, Lyn Cooper exorcises some personal demons in her one woman show

THEATRE SPACE Adam Corrigan Holowitz — Aimee Adler’s fascination with Marie Curie pays off in her one woman show about the pioneering scientist SOUNDS RAZOR Sean Twist — Battling factions of nerdish affiliation implode in a fiery clash at London’s Geek Council EVENTS LISTINGS

YODELLER INTERVIEW Deanne Kondrat — An interview with Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein – one of the star attractions at Shock Stock

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e d ito r@ lo n do ny o del le r. c a

Heritage Preservation

BRING ON THE CIVIC STATUARY [Re: Moi J’ai Quitte Mon Pays Bleu, Riplash, May 12, Jason Rip] A ter-

rific article, Jason. You just get better and better. By the way, your dad just might be wrong. You never know.

— John E. Turner

Photo: BOB McKENZIE

FIRE HAZARDS FROM ABOVE [Re: Minority Report, 1,000 Words or Less, May 12, Bob McKenzie] I don’t

know about sky lanterns but I wonder why the City didn’t have any objection to the city’s proposal of rooftop forests. No fire hazard there?

— Chris Bradley

In an op-ed piece (“Kingsmill’s Coming Down?” The London Yodeller, October 9, 2014) I suggested that the reports in London’s mainstream media of Fanshawe College “moving into” the Kingsmill’s building gave the false impression that the 1932 heritage building would be preserved and that the college would occupy it pretty much “as is,” with some renovations. Fanshawe encouraged that belief by issuing a drawing that showed a modern, three-storey addition piled on top of the existing structure. I gave my opinion that in reality Fanshawe intended to completely demolish the building, leaving a vacant lot upon which to erect an entirely new building. Now we know.

— Bob McKenzie

NOW THAT’S A BIG-HEARTED COMPLIMENT [Re: May 14 edition in all of its eye-watering beauty and splendour]

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AND SPEAKING OF MATTERS TINGLEY . . .

Hello Herman. Of course I did not stop reading The Yodeller when you kicked me out of the nest. The paper never misses and gets stronger and better written every issue.

Congrats.

— Bill Skidmore

Congratulations to the two first readers — Chris Blackmore and Carol Vandenberg — who located, circled and zapped us pictures of Luke Worm disguised as a hood ornament in last issue’s

KEEPING TING IN THE REVAMPED STORYBOOK GARDENS

front page image. It was touching how many of our entrants recalled looking for Luke each day as kids in homes that subscribed to The London Free Press. And our hearty thanks to the folks at The Oar House, Dolcetto, Bertoldi’s Trattoria and McGinnis Landing for putting up the gift certificates for our winners.

[Re: The Civic Blessing and Inspiration of Ting, Hermaneutics, May 12, Herman Goodden] Thanks for the

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maker to create a Luke Worm puppet to employ in their puppet shows. I’ve been consulting with them about the design. That would have been a nice little addition to your Storybook section and would have added something current. Anyway, keep on Yodelling.

— Cam Tingley

PDF of the latest issue. Good piece on Dad. I didn’t realize you’d be doing something about Storybook . . . I should have told you that Storybook recently hired a puppet-

— The Editor

t he cont r a r i a n

Let’s have a referendum on whether we still need elections

by Tim Kavanagh

So

apparently, our City

Councillors and staff are giving consideration to reduce the bag limit for garbage from four bags to three bags per week.

Seems relatively simple, since we have increased the amount of materials that can be placed in our blue boxes. However, in order to accomplish what some would think to be an easy task, we require public input. Why is it that everything that has to be considered in the City requires a public meeting? Please, make a decision and live with the outcome.

What I am saying is this. If we require a public forum for every decision that is made at City Hall then guess what . . . do we require City Council? In this age of technology, just place the question on the City website and allow the citizens to exercise their vote and we press on.

Perhaps we should undertake a study on the three bags … or send it to staff for a report. We see this constantly from Council. We get these referred and never do I ever hear anyone ask, If we require a public “How many people on staff will work on this?

How many hours will be required to do the forum for every report?” We seem to be afraid of making a decision that is made decision that someone may disagree with.

Council was elected to make difficult choices at City Hall then that not everyone is going to agree with. If guess what . . . do we that is a hardship for some on Council, then require City Council? perhaps those Councillors made a mistake when they sought the position. I respect all politicians of any stripe for making a decision quickly even though I may not agree with them.

At election time are you, as a voter, going to remember every vote your Councillor made? Nope you’re not. As proof, I ask you to quickly tell me who won the Super Bowl earlier this year? What movie won the Oscar? Or what record picked up a Grammy? I doubt it. Or how about Vision 96? Oh yeah, we forgot about that, didn’t we? Do you recall the recommendations in that? How it was implemented and what the results were, either positive or negative? Reportedly, many Londoners participated in that process.

Regarding rapid transit or the fate of the Springbank Dam, we can understand the requirement to engage the community here in London and even the region. Those are difficult decisions and I know some will be disappointed with whatever occurs. I for one, won’t be bitter with the outcome. Just don’t use the “We’re the largest city in Canada that doesn’t have composting or rapid transit” to justify those positions. Otherwise we are the largest city in Canada with no expressway. Imagine the public participation meetings for that one.

Steel your nerves, Councillors. We elected you to make decisions.

Three bags from four . . . go for it.

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yod el l i ng i n t h e c a n y o n

The strangest home-run smash in Labatt Park’s long history Baseball is a magical game of synchronicity, where playful Baseball Gods revel in creating unusual coincidences where splitsecond timing is everything

by Barry Wells

forty onE years

ago when the wood-loving beaver became Canada’s official mascot, the 1975 London Majors, skippered by the late Roy McKay, won the Intercounty Baseball League (IBL) pennant (20-8 record) and championship series against Guelph Royals using a dynamite combination of pitching, defence and lumber. In 2015, the ‘75 team was inducted into the London Sports Hall of Fame.

In fact, it was the last time The Local Nine won the IBL title, although the 2008 Majors won the league pennant (finished 1st in the regular-season standings), but lost the championship series with the Brantford Red Sox in Game 7 before 5,200 fans at LaBatt-LaBall Park™.

McKay’s outstanding ‘75 club was deep in talent and long on camaraderie and teamwork. Two of its five all-stars were league MVP Mike (Killer) Kilkenny and slugger Larry (Haggar) Haggitt.

Killer was a tall, southpaw pitcher fresh from five seasons in The Bigs (Detroit Tigers, Cleveland Indians, San Diego

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Padres and Oakland A’s) who still had all his stuff on the mound. He went undefeated (9-0) during the regular season and also in the playoffs (5-0).

First-baseman Larry Haggitt won the ‘75 IBL batting crown with a .412 season average.

According to IBL Iron Man and all-star teammate Arden (RD) Eddie, “Killer used to say before games he pitched, ‘Just give me two runs and I’ll take care of the rest.’” Getting a hit off Kilkenny was like trying to steal a pork chop from a pit-bull terrier.

Larry Haggitt, a powerful six-footer, could really crush a baseball. “One night in ‘75 during the bottom of the 1st,” says Eddie, “Haggar’s at the plate and he launched one into orbit; a moon shot over the wood fence in right-field and out of the park.”

As the tumblers of time would have it, Larry’s wife, Rachel, who’d gone shopping at White Oaks Mall before the game, was travelling westward over the new Queens Avenue bridge on her way back to watch the game. Just after she arrived at the bridge’s western end, a meteorlike baseball smashed into her front windshield. Or as Arden Eddie describes it, “the ball and the windshield arrived at the same Earth co-ordinates together and the ball and the windshield became one.”

Only after Rachel returned to the park did she discover it was husband Larry who’d dispatched the ball like a cannon, out of the park onto Riverside

1975 London Majors team photo. IBL Pennant Winners and Champions; 2015 Team Inductee into the London Sports Hall of Fame. PHOTO: Victor Aziz. Courtesy of Arden Eddie

Drive. “It was funny as hell to everyone except Rachel and Haggar,” says Eddie.

What are the odds of clobbering a game ball 475 feet into the windshield of your own moving car? Given that only one man in a million can even hit a baseball 475 feet, the odds of randomly smashing the windshield of your own moving car at that distance are astronomical. It’s the only home-run blast during Haggitt’s career that lightened his wallet at Apple Auto Glass®.

Teammate Barry J. Fuller contends Haggitt “also drilled another one that hit the old Dutch Laundry on the other side of Riverside,” an estimated 560 feet from home plate, during another game. “ “Haggitt was on fire that year,” says all-star infielder Barry (Boogie) Boughner. “He hit that ball out of the yard in right field onto Riverside Drive and it’s still going.”

For the uninitiated, baseball is a magical game of synchronicity, where playful Baseball Gods revel in creating unusual coincidences where split-second timing is everything. The field is the sacred stage, the infield a diamond. There’s nine defensive players and nine innings.

Runners move around the bases counter clockwise, but there’s no time clock.

Theoretically, a game can last forever.

When you think you’ve seen all the strange plays imaginable, another one unfolds before your eyes. As the late Yankee catcher Yogi Berra would say, “It’s déjà vu all over again.”

All home games of the London Majors are played at historic Labatt Memorial Park (1877-2016) at the corner

of Riverside Drive and Wilson. General admission tickets are sold at the front gates at game time. It’s $9 for adults; $7 for seniors, students and children 12 and under. Parking inside the park is $2.

Ice-cold beer is sold at all Majors’ home games.

UPCOMING HOME GAMES

Friday, May 27: Toronto Maple Leafs vs London Majors, 7:35 pm Sunday, May 29: Brantford Red Sox vs London Majors, 1:05 pm Sunday, June 5: Guelph Royals vs London Majors, 1:05 pm Friday, June 10: Burlington Bandits vs London Majors, 7:35 pm londonmajors.com

TURTLES A recent development in the Springbank Dam saga hammers home the absurdity of repairing the deadbeat Springbank Dam. Last month, the federal government declared the Spiny Softshell Turtle an “endangered species” after 25 years with a lower “threatened” classification. The Spiny Softshell Turtle species can be found in the Thames River Watershed, including from Harris Park to Byron and beyond. A reactivated Springbank Dam would destroy the essential shoreline habitat required for this endangered turtle species to survive, which is a serious offence, punishable by fines and jail terms. City Engineer John Braam is wise to be rubbing on the vanishing cream at city hall within a few weeks.

Ernie Harwell — Voice of the Turtle (YouTube, run time: 0.17)

laying down t h e l a wt on

City says we want development downtown – and then impedes it I’m

proud of Goodlife Fitness for its success as a London company that has grown to hold a national profile.

I am also proud of the company’s decision to get out of downtown, despite the protests of city council and the Downtown London Business Association.

I work downtown, and occasionally take in a show at Budweiser Gardens or even fill my stomach at a restaurant, but I have no emotional attachment to the core – nor do most Londoners, in fact, despite what anyone sitting at a council meeting would come to believe. London is not, never has been, nor will it ever be the magical metropolis that the centralizers think it is. It’s not a Toronto, nor a Vancouver, nor a Chicago – and nor should it be. Each city has the potential to offer something to a region or country. Bustle isn’t our ‘thing,’ and I’m okay with that.

The recent standoff between City Council and Southside Group over a pair of decrepit King St. buildings is evidence of this profound disconnect between lawmakers and business – and lawmakers and taxpayers, for that matter. Southside Group’s president, Vito Frijia, has been trying to demolish the 19th century buildings at 183 and 175-181 King St. for quite some time and now has to take his request to tear down 183 King to the Ontario Municipal Board, following denial of a demolition permit by City Council.

The tall, white building is vacant, supported on its east side by beams so it doesn’t fall over, and served, most recently, as a nightclub of sorts. But apparently, such a structure qualifies as integral to the city’s cultural heritage in council’s eyes. The older bright blue building adjacent to it was recently declared in a city staff report to be too dangerous to keep standing, with a recommendation made for its imminent demoli-

Any boom in the downtown has to happen organically, which requires investment. For a city council so intent on seeing London move more “inward and upward,” they should give developers the keys and let them do it.

tion. Neither building is contributing anything but liability to the city. But as we’ve so often seen, London’s story can be summed up as “The Boy Who Cried ‘Heritage!’”.

Despite the morethan-century-long existence of these buildings, they are impediments to Frijia’s hopes of a 25-storey, 200-unit high rise, which would actually bolster the core rather than blight it, as the edifices currently do. Frijia’s plans would cost $40 million – money coming out of a private developer’s pocket and going into London’s

economy. Though the proclaimers of heritage will attempt to label properties around the city, downtown appears to be the most sacred. They lament the bulldozing of history to make way for pesky things like economic investment. Then councillors wonder why companies like Goodlife want out.

There are myriad reasons why downtown London is an undesirable place: parking costs, parking availability, and a lack of things to draw people here are among them.

Most things that downtown officers, Londoners can get elsewhere. Movie theatres, restaurants, work, etc. are all available in the suburban corners of the city, where people can avoid traffic, park their cars for free, and get home from work in record time.

Why wouldn’t we want to be the city of convenience, rather than the city that brags about how exciting it is to other cities?

This debate has reared itself as council weighs where to move forward with rapid transit.

For several months, the operating strategy was to build a hybrid rapid transit system that would rely on bus and rail. Earlier this month, council did an about face on that, adopting a staff recommendation to ignore their previous recommendation and pursue a bus rapid transit (BRT) system instead. Most Londoners I’ve heard from don’t want it, because they don’t see the desire to shave four minutes off of their bus rides into downtown London – because the core

isn’t attracting people.

There is a general sense of agreement that downtown isn’t what it could be: I simply fail to see why that is an issue.

Nash Jewelers is moving to a new and spacious Wonderland Rd. facility, while Goodlife has access to a huge amount of space at its new Oxford St. W. headquarters. Other companies, particularly those which value their employees, have similarly seen that they are not, in London, sacrificing much by being outside the core.

Any boom in the downtown has to happen organically, which requires investment. For a city council so intent on

seeing London move more “inward and upward,” they should give developers the keys and let them do it.

Frijia wants to spend money to increase the tax base in downtown London and put 200 more people in the core. Other developers have wanted to make similar investments, and have found themselves forced to abandon their goals.

How many of Shmuel Farhi’s buildings sit vacant downtown? I don’t know the number, but I know it’s higher than it needs to be. Though it hasn’t been publicly discussed in recent years, I know his hopes for the future of the former

Central Library have been ostensibly stonewalled, because of needless stipulations. The result is an empty building, which helps no one’s vision for London’s future.

Any person or group who wants a building saved because of its perceived historic value should fundraise the money to save it themselves.

This applies to homes in Old North, the ramshackle former McCormick’s factory, or a former nightclub on King St. For developers who come to the table willing – and even eager – to invest, we should roll out the red carpet for them, and not look the gift p horse in the mouth.

sp o tl ight

Our cover artist, Andrew Lewis, designed this poster to celebrate one of London’s oldest neighbourhoods which also happens to be his own.

The Old South is also the home of the Westland Gallery where prints of this poster on archival papers are available in various sizes and featuring two different colour palettes. Later this year, Lewis will be having an exhibition of entirely new work at the Westland.

But for those who want a good rich blast of the Old South experience right now, we recommend the 34th annual edition of the Gathering on the Green on the grounds of the old Normal School in the heart of the Wortley Village. It’ll be the usual quiet riot of dogs and sno-cones, tea and scones, dunk tanks and valet bike parking on Saturday, June 4th from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. when London’s largest and longest running neighbourhood festival gets underway with 90 local craft and plant vendors, musical entertainment on two different stages and an all-day barbeque featuring great, inexpensive food for the whole family. The emphasis has always been on community and family but over the years the Gathering on the Green has raised $80,000 for causes in Old South.

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Andrew Lewis Design

by Andrew Lawton

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d a p p l ed t h i n g s

Khan of Londonistan

by Paula Adamick

Of

course this was going to happen. It was just a matter of time and momentum. The only real surprise is that Londoners themselves are surprised by the election of the city’s first Muslim mayor. Outside the capital, however, it was assumed all along that Sadiq Khan would beat his opponent, Zac Goldsmith, easily. Which he did on May 6 with 57 percent of the vote, giving Khan the largest personal mandate of any politician in British history. The main question now is, as a member of the UK’s large Muslim population – 5.4 percent, or about 3 million people according to the Office of National Statistics – what will he do with it?

Born in Tooting in 1970 to a Pakistani bus driver and his seamstress wife, Khan grew up to become a human rights lawyer, an MP and later a Labour transport minister in the Gordon Brown government, making him the first Muslim minister to attend a cabinet meeting. As such, Khan’s is regarded as the quintessential immigrant success story. In a campaign that saw his rivals portraying him as an “extremist”, Khan said his victory showed that “Londoners have chosen hope over fear and unity over division.”

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With his win, he ends eight years of Conservative control over City Hall and boosts the morale of despised Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn on a day when Labour otherwise put in a very poor showing across the country. Although Khan’s victory seemed inevitable, critics slammed Goldsmith’s Tory campaign as one that leaves behind a “negative legacy” in this highly cosmopolitan city. For weeks, Goldsmith focused on Khan’s faith and his many public appearances alongside radical Muslim speakers, accusing him of giving “platform, oxygen and cover” to radicals.

Khan countered that he has fought extremism all his life and regrets sharing a stage with speakers who held “abhorrent” views. He also accused Goldsmith — the son of billionaire financier James Goldsmith and now married to heiress Alice Rothschild — as being part of an out-of-touch elite and of using Donald Trump-style tactics to divide Londoners along religious lines. Casting himself as London’s “most pro-business mayor yet,” Khan also promised to freeze public transport fares for four years and assured Londoners that half of all new homes built there will be “genuinely affordable.”

The strategy worked. Even Goldsmith’s sister Jemima —

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Sadiq Khan, London, England’s newly elected mayor. In a nation now dotted with many no-go areas (where police do not patrol) where many British Muslims are compliant with sharia law, should Londoners worry?

former wife of Pakistani cricketer and politician Imran Khan — tweeted that it was “sad that Zac’s campaign did not reflect who I know him to be.” Khan now becomes the most powerful Muslim politician in the Western world, representing 8.5 million Londoners and responsible for a £17 billion annual budget. Still, the focus of many Londoners is expected to be less on Khan’s promises than on the influence of his religion.

Among those watching is British journalist Melanie Phillips whose 2006 book, Londonistan: How Britain is Creating a Terror State Within, coined the sobriquet and questioned the British government’s tolerance of the spread of Islamism in Britain, especially in light of the London Transport bombings of July 7, 2005 which killed 56

(including four suicide bombers). Phillips and the many who agree with her do not accept the official — and politically correct — narrative in British politics that there is no tension between Muslims and non-Muslims in the U.K. Nor do they accept the charge that anyone who even asks how Khan’s religious faith might affect his view of various demographic groups in Britain is race baiting.

The

questions uppermost in the minds of Phillips and other sceptics is whether Khan’s congenial attitude towards jihadists and Islamist supremacists reveals an actual support for their beliefs. Or whether his befriending of them was simply a case of pandering for their votes? In the end, Khan may turn out to be “a ter-

rific mayor”, Phillips concedes, though several incidents from his past continue to cause anxiety. Beginning with the period Khan chaired the legal affairs committee of the Muslim Council of Britain, a group linked to the Muslim Brotherhood. Then there was the time in 2004 when Khan told MPs that the Brotherhood cleric Yusuf al-Qaradawi “is not the extremist that he is painted as being,” even though Qaradawi supported suicide bombing in Israel and Iraq and justified wife-beating and the punishment and possible execution of homosexuals.

Next was a letter Khan wrote to the Guardian newspaper shortly after the 7/7 terrorist bombings in which he blamed the massacre of 52 Londoners on British government policy in the Middle East. They also question Khan’s legal defence of Zacarias Moussaoui, a 9/11 terrorist who confessed to being a member of Al-Qaeda.

Ditto Khan’s chapter in a book, Actions Against the Police, in which he advises on how to bring charges against police for “racism”, which raises the question over how, as mayor of London, he will now exercise authority over the same police force.

These concerns took a backseat, however, to a recent Evening Standard investigation which found that Khan’s

brother-in-law had been a prominent member of the notorious extremist group, Al-Muhajiroun, alongside the hugely controversial Muslim activist, Anjem Choudary. AlMuhajiroun has been linked to a number of extremists, including British soldier Lee Rigby’s killer, Michael Adebolajo, who attended meetings and demonstrations of the group, and Abdul Waheed Majeed who became the first British suicide bomber in Syria in February 2014. Questions also remain over Khan’s association with Makbool Javaid, chairman of the Muslim Lawyers Association, who put his name alongside hate preacher Omar Bakri’s on a fatwa declaring war on the U.K. and U.S. in 1998, though Sadiq claims not to have seen him in over ten years.

After the Evening Standard claims broke, however, Khan admitted that although he had represented “unsavoury individuals” and felt uncomfortable about representing such figures as Louis Farrakhan, leader of the Nation of Islam, he was only doing his job. “I have never hidden the fact that I was a human rights lawyer,” he said.

“Unfortunately, that means that I had to speak on behalf of some unsavoury individuals. Some of their views made me feel deeply uncomfortable, but it was my job.” All of which continues to raise concerns over whether, as mayor of London, Khan will be less

than energetic in protecting Londoners against extremist threats, or whether he will strongly challenge British Muslim communities to clean house ideologically.

Nevertheless, when Khan’s opponents raised these and other concerns over how his election might negatively impact Britain’s

Khan now becomes the most powerful Muslim politician in the Western world, representing 8.5 million Londoners and responsible for a £17 billion annual budget

relationship with Israel, they were excoriated as “racist”, including Prime Minister David Cameron, for pointing out Khan’s hospitable attitude toward Islamic supremacists and jihadists. In a nation now dotted with many no-go areas (where police do not patrol) where many British Muslims are compliant with sharia law, should Londoners worry?

The huge vote for Khan says no. But that doesn’t placate Phillips who regards Khan’s win as indicating one of two possibilities: “It’s possible that Sadiq Khan has now embarked on a genuine journey of reconciliation with Israel,” she writes. “It is also possible that he is

merely attempting to sanitize himself.” Yet neither of these possibilities addresses the nation’s ongoing worries over a deeper cultural problem that still needs to be addressed.

“Even after 7/7, both the political and security establishment and large parts of the Muslim community are in a lethal state of denial,” Phillips writes. “They are refusing to acknowledge the true causes of the terrorist threat and taking refuge instead in various alibis. The essence of the problem is that it is not enough — necessary as it is — to detect and thwart terrorist plots. Just as crucial is to address the hatred and lies that are driving this murderous violence. In particular, what needs to be combated with the utmost vigour is the Muslim culture of grievance, the paranoid belief that the West is engaged in a conspiracy to aggressively attack and destroy the Islamic world.

This delusion has meant that many Muslims misrepresent Islamist aggression as self-defence, and the West’s attempt to defend itself as aggression.

This double-think means that Britain is itself blamed for the attacks mounted upon it.”

Despite Khan’s huge win, Phillips remains convinced that Brits still don’t get it.

That is, the true nature of the threat to Britain posed by radical Islam and its now home-grown jihadis. For Phillips, the proof is how Khan’s election was viewed as a self-

congratulating victory over bigotry, typified by reactions such as those of the Labour Party’s doyen-extraordinaire, Harriet Harman, who, while noisily denouncing Britain for its loathsome Islamophobia, gushed: “We’re all Khan-ites, now …. Doesn’t he look a bit like George Clooney these days?”

Meanwhile, the deeper concerns expressed about Khan remain unaddressed.

Except for the acerbic comments of his counterpart, the Morroccan-born Ahmed Aboutaleb who, shortly after he became mayor of the Dutch city of Rotterdam, said his message to immigrants was as follows: “Stop seeing yourself as victims, and if you don’t want to integrate, leave.” Then, after the Paris attacks on Charlie Hebdo and the kosher supermarket, Aboutaleb repeated this uncompromising message: “If you do not like it here because some humorists you don’t like are making a newspaper, may I then say you can f*** off.” Sadiq Khan has not adopted such a robust approach so far, Phillips notes, adding that while denouncing terrorism and extremism, he nevertheless constantly presents Muslims as victims of the non-Muslim world. Which is exactly what bothers Phillips et al, though only time and events will tell whether her worries and deep scepticism have been warranted. Or not.

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Creative Destruction

by David Warren

The

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Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution was proclaimed by Chairman Mao Tse-tung (as he was then spelt) on the 16th of May, 1966. I leave gentle reader to do the math. It continued ten years, until its author’s death. It was one of the greatest continuing massacres of history — a work of incredible destruction through which most of the surviving cultural monuments from China’s civilized past were also wiped out. The Chinese Communist Party, which still rules this immense nation or empire, no longer wishes to talk about it. The anniversary has been suppressed, and even in Hong Kong, where media retain some fraction of the freedom they enjoyed under British colonial rule, Internet links to the anniversary have been frozen.

Led by young, psychopathic Red Guards, it was an unrestrained obliteration of what Mao called “The Four Olds” — old habits, old customs, old ideas, old culture. His satanic dream was of a “perpetual revolution.” His principles were ultimately those of the French Revolution — “improved” by the models of Leninism and Stalinism, the Hsin-hai Revolution of 1911 (in which the Chinese emperor was deposed), and the imagination of a petty bourgeois from a rural backwater in the province of Hunan (Mao himself). At this day, nothing like an adequate historical accounting can yet be attempted of the Cultural Revolution; nor of Mao’s previous iconoclastic essays; nor of the ways in which subsequent economic accomplishments have depended on them. Crucial sources for such a history remain under the control of the Politburo; and travel within their empire is still regulated by their “guides.”

The personality cult Mao launched, for the worship of himself as living god, exceeded that of Hitler or Stalin. (At one point nothing was allowed in print that was not either by or about him.) I note that his image yet adorns Chinese banknotes.

As a high school student in Georgetown, Ontario, I would often bus into the city of Toronto, truantly to prowl the bookstores, and haunt the museums and

libraries. Among my ports of call was a little establishment on Gerrard Street that specialized in Chinese revolutionary paraphernalia. I no longer have my copies of Mao’s Little Red Book (which I bought as a mischievous decoration), the two volumes of his Selected Works, or odd numbers of the Peking Review. This last was the periodical in which I discovered that I was myself a “running dog of American Imperialism” — a phrase I once found repeated several dozen times within a single article.

But at this distance the flavour of the Cultural Revolution was merely quaint.

It was later, discovering for instance the works of that remarkable wandering Belgian Catholic, Pierre Ryckmans (pen-name Simon Leys, 1935–2014) that the full horror of the Chinese experience began to reach me.

This amateur sinologist was among the few Western intellectuals who freed themselves from the mesmerizing “coolness” of the Mao cult, in his own generation. Understated, he presented only what he could learn from first-hand travel and research. The power of his writing came from this extraordinary patience. He was looking only for the truth.

Yet

I had skirted China by then in my own travels, and read other newsy-historical works, and chatted with more than one acknowledged “China expert” in my quasi-vocation as a hack journalist; and thereby been fed almost entirely with lies. I knew that Maoism was evil, but could not begin to compass how radically evil. A growing appeciation of the grandeur of the ancient Chinese civilization accentuated this. For what was destroyed, in addition to the bodies corresponding to tens of millions of human souls, was of tremendous value, not only to China but to the legacy of the planet.

To my mind looking back, the Cultural Revolution may be the most sustained and thorough exercise in the cause of “progress” that men have yet performed.

I have come to think that its specifically communist ideological thrust was only a component: an efficient means to a larger end. The ideal of “creative destruction” is at the heart of modern capitalism, too: the scouring of the earth in pursuit of some empty glittering tomorrow. The removal of all signposts to a loving God. Their replacement with endlessly sprawling utilitarian “facilities,” in which the human spirit will find no home.

t he p ur s ui t o f h a p p i n e s s

A Chain Pub that Takes the Time to Get It Right Blarney Chips, Rover Bites, bacon shrimp donuts and Crispy Somosas?

Poutine, French Onion Soup and Chicken Masala Curry . . . how very Irish!

by Jeffrey Schiller

Before I get to my usual ramblings, please hand out this recipe to as many restaurants as you can: Homemade Tartar Sauce

1 cup mayonnaise 1 teaspoon sweet pickle relish 1 teaspoon prepared yellow mustard 1 teaspoon lemon juice Put ingredients in a bowl and mix together Prep Time: 2 minutes

Spring may be late and the exact arrival time of summer 2016 is up for debate but the weather is still perfect for a cold draft or anything with bourbon. With this is mind, we decided to give Cara Foods’ latest London south restaurant/pub, Fionn MacCool’s a try. With a drink menu that would rival the best, how could we go wrong? Well basically, we didn’t. I know, I know – another chain, another pub, another huge selection of beer and more over-usage of the term ‘local” but hey, I’m a sucker for a huge drink menu. In fact, they had me at ‘Bourbon’.

At first glance, Fionn MacCool’s seems like another cookie cutter pub. You are sure you’ve been here before. They have the latest décor. They use the terms ‘craft’ and ‘local’ as many times as possible and,

of course, they brag about their ‘fresh’ pub fare. Add ‘farm to table’ and you have the perfect cliché. The difference with Fionn’s is that someone at Cara was really paying attention to the focus group.

You are correct, they are all things typical but somehow they just seem to have done all the ‘typical’ just a little better. In fact, they hit me in all the right places.

By now, if you have read any of my musings, you know what I’m looking for when I go out. I like to be greeted by someone who actually cares I am there, I like ‘clean’ a lot, an original and interesting menu, and, of course, great food served up by someone who enjoys their job or does a good job faking it. I think most of the typical London chain restaurants have figured out how to clean their restaurant and how to greet folks. Things usually begin to melt down with the menu and food. They all enjoy telling me why their food is the best, ‘local ingredients’, ‘organic’, ‘farm fresh’, blah blah blah, I have heard it all before. It all comes down to what you put on my plate.

Getting back to Fionn’s, after enjoying a cold draft and one of the pub barrel-aged bourbon cocktails served up by an extremely friendly server who I am convinced was not faking it, we decided nourishment of a more substantial nature was in order. I like the menu – not sure what the heck to make of it – but I

like it. It has the usual chicken wings, etc., but then it kind of goes a little haywire, a little crazy, in a ‘Wow, that’s cool, kind of way. Blarney Chips, Rover Bites, bacon shrimp donuts and Crispy Somosas? Poutine, French Onion Soup and Chicken Masala Curry . . . how very Irish!

I settled on the cod and chips and here is where they get it. The fish itself was cooked perfectly, the batter was flavourful and not greasy. I love fish and chips and order this staple frequently and much to my continued dismay, most places serve them with a convenient little package of commercially prepared tartar sauce. I know it seems petty but this is your time to shine. Don’t brag about ‘fresh’ and ‘local’ and ‘artisan’ and then skimp on the most basic things. I have said it a million times, it’s the little things a restaurant does, not what words it uses. A quick Google search and there were over 838,000 recipe links for homemade Tartar Sauce. Fionn’s understands this. They served their version and it was awesome; just sort of blobbed into a dish and tossed on the plate, cold and delicious.

Joanne went really Irish and ordered the Tandoori Street Sandwich, a delicious combination of warm naan bread stuffed with grilled tandoori chicken, arugula, cucumber and roasted red peppers topped with citrus mint yogurt.

Irish? Well, let’s just say you won’t find this recipe in any Irish cookbooks.

If I am forced to come up with something to be grumpy about, I guess it would be the Warm Chips & Dips. A great app of crisp potato chips seasoned with whiskey sea salt. Comes with chipotle mayo and sour cream with chives for dipping but the chips were inconsistent at best – some were great, crispy, salty, while others were greasy and undercooked. All in all, they were tasty and delicious but truly I say nothing can be worse than a soggy chip.

We stayed a little too long and enjoyed a few more cold ones and I suppose that is what they want you to do. I am okay with that. Whatever they are doing,

it works. I enjoyed my time at Fionn MacCool’s. It looks like just another pub but Fionn’s made me happy. Prices range from about nine bucks or so for an appetizer and dinners are in the fourteen to lower twenty buck range. Portions are reasonable, the menu interesting and the beer is cold. If you go, try one of the Pub barrel-aged bourbon cocktails. I don’t need to elaborate, they have bourbon, that’s why.

Fionn MacCool’s 867 Wellington Rd. S., London ON (519) 681-5346

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Peg g ’s w o rld

I’m Right and You’re an Idiot

by Robert Pegg

The

headline for this issue’s column comes courtesy of a very fine new book by James Hoggan of that title. That and its subtitle, The Toxic State of Public Discourse and How to Clean It Up makes a nice introduction to our real topic.

I never saw the Gore Vidal versus William F. Buckley Jr. debates when they were originally televised on ABCTV as part of their nightly coverage of both the Republican and Democratic parties’ conventions back in 1968. If I had, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised at the low standards of punditry as seen today on American television during our current countdown to

Considering the poisoned state of American politics and punditry, you can’t get much more topical than this reminder of events from almost half a century ago

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the conventions where both parties choose their Presidential candidates for the next run for the White House.

The Vidal/Buckley debates of ’68 have a lot to answer for – something to think about next time you tune in CNN or any news service doing pre-election panel discussions and watch as the whole thing degenerates into people yelling and talking over each other.

If there is no name-calling, consider yourself lucky.

That said, I was pretty familiar with both gentlemen prior to watching Best of Enemies, a 2015 documentary about those infamous debates which is now airing on the Netflix. Largely this was because of Dick Cavett’s weeknight talk show which ran on PBS in the 1970s. Both Buckley and Vidal were regular guests – though never at the same time of course. As the film shows, they genuinely despised each other. I enjoyed Buckley just because

I liked the way he spoke. Much like I now listen to Blue Jays baseball games on the radio just because of commentator Jerry Howarth’s voice. Certainly, it wasn’t because of anything Buckley ever said. I appreciated the various high and lows of his monotone and the facial expressions which accompanied whatever point he was making at which time he’d lean back in his chair and flash Cavett that big mouthful of teeth. Vidal also used big words that I didn’t comprehend but I preferred his appearances on Cavett because unlike Buckley, he had a sense of humour and told good stories while dropping bon mots.

So I came into Best of Enemies with a superficial acquaintance with both men. If anything, I liked Vidal better because he wrote Myra Breckenridge rather than National Review, Buckley’s weekly magazine of conservative thought and commentary. And watching the documentary, it’s clear right from the start that the filmmakers prefer Vidal as well. The film opens with archive footage of a young Vidal roaming around his palatial retreat high up the cliffs of the Amalfi coast and showing off a photo from the debates of him and Buckley – which he has framed and hung over his toilet.

Our first glimpse of Buckley is wild Bill addressing an audience of fans and musing how nice it was to be invited otherwise he might have “to smash you in the goddamn mouth.” Then making his trademark eye-popping facial tic like a deer caught in the headlights before flashing that big toothy grin to show he’s just kidding.

That’s not the only time we hear Buckley threaten to smash someone in the goddamn mouth. It seems a favorite expression. Surprising, for such an erudite guy who prides himself on his vocabulary. The most famous use of the phrase is in the penultimate debate in Chicago and it precedes him calling Vidal a “queer” after Gore taunted him as being a “crypto-Nazi” – whatever the hell that is. This scene is the centrepiece of the film. Buckley rises from his chair and intimidatingly leans over

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William F. Buckley Jr. at the Democratic National Convention in 1968, tells fellow commentator Gore Vidal: “ Now listen you queer, quit calling me a crypto-Nazi or I’ll sock you in the goddamn face and you’ll stay plastered.”

Vidal while yelling at him in the ‘how dare you, I fought with the infantry in the last war’ way. Actually, all of his wartime service was done Stateside but you can understand his indignation. Vidal is just beside himself during all this, the undeniable glee stamped all over his face. In fact, I think it was the only time in all the debates he showed any sign of having fun. After all, this is what he had been waiting for – he finally managed to goad Buckley into losing control and revealing just how dangerous he could be. And ‘dangerous’ is a pretty apt word. Vidal had earlier quoted Buckley’s own words written for National Review in favour of using a nuclear bomb to end the war in Viet Nam. The worse Buckley can say of Vidal is that Myra Breckenridge is pornography.

As

a piece of television, that scene alone is riveting stuff and the film’s defining moment. You see Vidal with that big goofy grin on his face – and a brief glimpse in his eyes which shows he’s also obviously afraid that Buckley might actually hit him. And then after the scene is screened for Buckley’s friends and his brother, there is absolute silence. If Vidal’s

delight in provoking Buckley comes across as unseemly, the silence from Buckley’s friends shows their embarrassment for him. Untypically of the man, he lost control and there’s no defending his behaviour. You almost feel sorry for the guy. The remainder of the documentary is what makes the film such great tragedy. Neither man could let it go. Neither got over it. It was an unspoken regret for Buckley for his entire life. Vidal would later rescreen the debates for friends Norma Desmond style and talk about his loathing for Buckley daily. You have to really hate someone a lot to relive this stuff on a daily basis and that was the one thing both men had in common.

Film-makers – co-directors Robert Gordon and Morgan Neville are damn balanced at showing that part of the story.

Considering the poisoned state of American politics and punditry, you can’t get much more topical than this reminder of events from almost half a century ago. Two men, known as intellectuals and erudite masters of the English language being reduced to the level of the schoolyard. Bullying, name-calling and arguing. But what sad pathetic fun in watching.

625 DUNDAS * JUST EAST OF ADELAIDE

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essa ys i n i d l e n e s s

FEALTY We are in the habit today of apologizing for the Crusades; especially those of us who know nothing about them

by David Warren

A

llegiance – specifically the acts of homage and fealty – must be today among the least comprehensible customs of that “Western Civ” which was founded and nurtured by the Church through the centuries. In my experience, soldiers sometimes understand it, and monks, and others who are seemingly by nature humble and prayerful.

I have difficulty with it. The notion itself goes against the grain of the society within which I have been moving these last three-score years and more (both

here in North America and extended abroad). The preaching, “to thine own self be true,” valid perhaps in some situations, is taken to be definitive in all; to supersede all other loyalties.

This is, as it were, ingrained. That is to say, it is taught by word and example, implicitly as well as explicitly, throughout the culture. Some vestigial Christian teaching persists in spite of it; there is a sneaking respect for the man who has put another ahead of himself; and Christians have no difficulty saying or thinking that they “should” put Christ ahead of themselves.

Then thinking, I often suspect, “that should do as an expression of my loyalties.”

Among others, abstract fidelity, to a nation state or a political cause or even a professional sports team, flourishes as a form of “spilt religion.” The human instinct of loyalty is there, is visible. But it is also of no consequence. You feel down when your team loses, up when it wins. The idea of sacrificing your life for, say, the Toronto Blue Jays, does not follow from it.

Marriage, I have heard, is in some

trouble as an institution of modern life.

Oddly, its chief assailants fixate on the element of “fealty” within the wedding rite. They find that more important than what they imagine to be “accidents” such as the sex of the respective participants.

They understand that an allegiance is pledged, and could be pledged, only between two actual persons. Fervid supporters of “gay marriage” are unlikely to embrace polygamy as well.

We have here another case of vestigial Christianity: the beauty that is perceived within the formal bond. But whether the relation is “heterosexual” or some other, it is fully adapted to the requirements of our age. The “partners” must be “equal,” and the bond remains voluntary both before and after the ostentatious public ceremony. The whole profession of fidelity can be quickly cancelled, without ceremony. One needn’t go to Las Vegas any more, and the only vexed question will be who gets what.

I mentioned soldiers. In my modest experience as a hack journalist, in zones proximate to war, I have come to know some soldiers. I have also come to think that the Christianity espoused by such a high proportion of them is immeasurably enhanced by their experience of loyalty to comrades, under enemy fire. I am not alone in comparing this to the monastic experience, where the common enemy may be “spiritual” and “unseen,” but is nevertheless vividly apprehended: and one monk would lay down his life for another.

T

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here remains the moment when the young seminarian puts his hands within the hands of his superior, and pledges fealty. I think the modern instinct is to wince at this. There is something a little too real about it; it invades all of our “virtual” spaces. Henceforth he will serve.

Mysteriously, that bond is by extension with Christ, or more precisely vice versa.

It is also a bond with the other professed.

One has joined an army; one must not desert.

“Bands of brothers” have existed, so far as I know, in all times and places. They are therefore not necessarily Christian.

Yet the binding force – the disciplined allegiance, the fealty – is to my mind a godly thing. There is, quite apart from the worldly and cacophonic, a divine music underlying the “Semper Fi” of the USMC, which I have got close enough to hear.

We are in the habit today of apologizing for the Crusades; especially those of us who know nothing about them. But

with the usual vestigiality, we persist in “crusades” against poverty, drugs, and other passive things. Against a very active enemy, crusading is now in poor taste.

Hence the crusade is against abstract “terrorism”; but against, say, the Daesh, only

insofar as they may embody the abstract of unambiguous evil in brief moments of media revelation. Hours later, we are watching our tongues again, lest we betray a belief that the world is full of real as well as virtual enemies, and we find ourselves committed to something inconvenient and uncomfortable. Allegiance, in marriage and all other forms, is not for a season. “I’m your man” can be taken as an amusing and ironical pop lyric, but when taken literally, it is too much for our sensibilities.

As I confessed above, I have difficulty myself, for I am a modern man like the rest, which is to say, the grain of modernity runs through me. As Catholic Christian I am pledged to go against this grain, but Lord it is sometimes hard, and I am sometimes frightfully complacent. The groundwork of my loyalty to Holy Church is there, but the man who stands upon it is apt to swivel – away from the real, towards the “abstract” and painless.

“Fealty,” the word, is not the same as “fidelity.” It means, or has done in English since before modern English came into vogue, “obligation to fidelity.” It can be spotted immediately, by almost anyone who has become aware of historical time, as “a mediaeval concept.” That is to say, it is a Christian concept, a ghost proceeding from some despised or romanticized “age of faith.” The idea that fidelity might entail an obligation is foreign to the modern mind, even in the moments when it is given lip service, in light shadows such as contract law. To recover it we must first re-imagine what it could mean.

boo k cul t u re

Richard B. Wright’s Swan Song?

Richard B. Wright Nightfall Simon & Schuster

by Ian Hunter

B

ut for the esteemed Editor of The Yodeller, this wonderful bi-monthly addition to London’s literary scene, I might never have experienced the immense pleasure of reading Mr. Richard B. Wright. It happened this way: several decades ago, when Mr. Goodden was barely out of short pants and I was still engaged in the Sisyphean task of trying to impart a kernel of wisdom to Western University law students, I casually asked Herman whether he considered that there were any first rank Canadian writers of fiction?

Such confidence had I in Herman’s literary acumen that I knew he would not burden me with names like Atwood or Shields or similar sob sisters who mine the inexhaustible shafts of feminine angst; Herman thought about the question for a moment and replied: “Yes, Richard B. Wright – not to be confused with the other Richard Wright”. I asked him which of Wright’s books I should read and Herman said: “All of them”, and, if memory serves,

immediately passed into my hands a copy of Wright’s slim 1995 masterpiece The Age of Longing. When I read it, I was hooked. I read all of Wright’s novels, some of which are more compelling than others, but only one of which – Mr. Shakespeare’s Daughter (2010) – I found fell beneath his high standard. From his first novel The Weekend Man (1970) to his last, the just published Nightfall (2016), Wright’s is an impressive literary achievement; it is a sad commentary on literary tastes that Wright is not better known in Canada and more publically celebrated.

Richard Wright was born in Midland, Ontario in 1937. He graduated from the radio program at Ryerson Polytechnic (as was) in 1959, and began looking for jobs in broadcasting, a process he describes hilariously in his fragmentary autobiography A Life in Words (2015). After a stint as an editor at Macmillan publishers, he obtained a degree in English literature from Trent University, and then settled in to teach at Ridley College, a private school for boys in St. Catharines, Ontario. He remained there until he retired.

Wright’s early novels were published to favourable reviews but niggardly sales, until 2001 when he hit the jackpot with

Clara Callan, an unexpected bestseller, which primarily features letters exchanged between two spinster sisters who grew up in a grimy small town in post-Depression Ontario. I recently reread Clara Callan (for the third time) and it was just as wonderful as on first reading; deservedly Clara Callan won the Giller Prize, the Trillium Award, and the Governor-General’s Award. Come to think of it, it may just be the finest post-war Canadian novel, although Robertson Davies’s Fifth Business, published in 1970, would also have to be considered a contender. The fact that I bracket Richard B. Wright and Robertson Davies is intended as high praise for both men.

And so to Mr. Wright’s latest novel, Nightfall (Simon and Shuster, 2016, $27.95), which concludes the story of two protagonists who first took the stage in his melancholy 2007 novel, October. James Hillyer is a retired English professor, whose wife and daughter are dead, a lonely man increasingly seeking refuge in the bottle and sometimes contemplating suicide. Odette Huard lives with her thin and bony and simple sister, Celeste, in Quebec City; sixty years before, when James and Odette were teenagers, they spent a carefree summer living

in nearby houses in Gaspe. Back then they were friends, not lovers, but ever since those halcyon days, James has nursed a secret passion for Odette; “Looking for Odette Huard who lived in Barachois, Gaspe, during the summer of 1944 when she was fifteen…” is the ad that Hillyer places in the Montreal Gazette and Le Devoir. Rather to his surprise he hears from Odette’s

Nightfall is a beautiful tale of loss and love niece, and eventually makes his way to Quebec City for a reunion with this woman he has not laid eyes upon for more than half a century. Who has not, even in old age, contemplated such a romantic adventure?

After a formal dinner at a swanky hotel in Quebec City, the couple stroll through the darkening city streets and finish up for a nightcap in a quiet

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bar where all the other patrons are noticeably younger. James tells Odette that “… he was still smitten by her and she asked him about the word smitten, just as she had years ago whenever she didn’t understand an English word. He told her it was from the verb smite, meaning to strike or hit, but in the past tense it meant the opposite of hurting. In other words he was still struck by her or infatuated or in love with her. She couldn’t quite believe that and asked him why. He said she was fishing for compliments and she said no, she was just curious. Then he said that curiosity had been one of the things he liked about her when she was fifteen.” By such simple, lyrical prose does Wright draw the reader into this wistful tale.

Reviewers have frequently praised Wright’s ability to create credible female characters, a tough job for most male novelists; Odette Huard is among Wright’s most memorable women – tough, blunt, yet also vulnerable. What happens between James and Odette is not for a reviewer to disclose but for a reader to discover; Nightfall is a beautiful tale of loss and love, and how both shape human lives until we draw our last breath.

Ian Hunter is Professor Emeritus at Western University; his most recent book, Telling Lives, is available from Cardinal Books

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yod el l er fea ture

Jack Chambers Europe Was The Place To Be

by Herman Goodden

In this excerpt from Three Artists: Kurelek, Chambers & Curnoe, to be published by Elmwood Press this summer, Herman Goodden recounts London artist Jack Chambers’ first encounter with the Old World. As one of very few Canadian artists of his generation who undertook the full regimen of classical training, the 22 year-old Chambers was looking to Europe for nothing less than a total reorientation of his perceptual habits and skills. But before he was truly ready to commit to that process, the ever proud and gnarly artist had to find some way to make clear that while he was indeed submitting to the Old World’s authority in these matters, he would paradoxically do so under his own terms.

In

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September of 1953 on the night before Jack Chambers (1931-78) headed off to New York City to board a Greek ship sailing to Naples on which he had booked a tourist class berth, he hauled all of his paintings out of his parents’ basement and took them over to Ross Woodman’s house for safe keeping. A professor of Romantics by day at the University of Western Ontario and otherwise a passionate art collector and widely regarded critic whose musings did much to bring coherence and attention to the work of at least two generations of London artists, Woodman (19222014) was Chambers’ first champion.

“He asked me to look after them until he got back,” Woodman explained.

Asked about the quality of those early paintings, Woodman said, “It was very mannered, stylized work, heavily influenced by other artists. I’m not sure that I thought it was good. The intensity was the most striking thing.”

I asked Woodman if he felt at the time that going to Europe was the right thing for Chambers. “Yes, it was a good

Jack Chambers (1931-1978)

move. I didn’t know what was going to happen. But I could see from what he left with me – the crucifixions and all the other kinds of paintings he was doing – that he was seriously involved in that kind of work and Europe was the place to be.”

The last major painting Chambers finished before leaving Canada was the numinous and eerie Self-Portrait No. 2 which depicts the artist with the sloping shoulders and elongated neck, limbs and hands – as well as the cool blue halo – of an El Greco (1541-1614) saint. In many ways the painting is, if not blasphemous, then certainly brash, and yet it intuitively signals not just the eight years he would immerse himself in Spain and the work of its master painters like El Greco but also his conversion in just four more years to the Roman Catholic faith.

In a lengthy interview published

by Coach House Press in 1967, Woodman, pretending that he didn’t already know the answer, asked Chambers why he had chosen to leave Canada.

“Indifference,” Chambers answered.

“The part of Canada I knew was utilitarian, puritanical, indifferent to anything that was not a ‘safe job’ and a ‘proper living’. It was a question of survival. I worked, saved money and left . . . I left Canada with no very clear idea of what I was after or where I was going, but with a determination not to

have forced on me what I didn’t want.”

Incredibly, after his Mexican standoff three years before, when he’d arrived in a strange country with no solid contacts in place to help him make his way (and so missed out on opportunities) Chambers repeated that maddeningly laissez-faire approach in travelling to Europe. In one of the more preposterous passages of his autobiography he makes a not very convincing attempt to explain his state of mind just before embarking on his leap into the old world: “Being at school had never taught me to gather information. I probably doubted that there were such places as Italy and Rome. Such places only existed in books. So when I set sail for Europe, I set sail for a strange place whose name I knew but about which I had no information, or if I had information, it had no relation to this adventure or to a destination.”

This passage really does strain credulity. Are we to believe that he can book himself passage to Italy but he has no idea at all what to expect when he gets there? Then why would he choose it as a destination as opposed to, say, Iceland? I think what he has ingenuously expressed here in a form so exaggerated as to be almost a parody, is his long-held distrust of authority of any kind and his determination to avoid whenever possible any sort of

mediation in his encounters with life and the world. This radically independent approach would for the most part serve him well but at this juncture I think we see it in its most tiresome form where it actually threatens to do him damage.

He kept mostly to himself during his Atlantic crossing, reading a lot by day and walking the deck in the evening when he loved to watch “the sinister phosphorescent life light a trail in the wake of the ship”. He made friends with a German family who were travelling on to Rome once they arrived in Naples and Chambers travelled there with them, absorbing his first impressions of the older European landscape as it flashed by the train window. That “rawness” of the North American and Mexican landscapes which had made him feel so “uneasy” was not a problem in the Old World. In Europe everything had been thoroughly man-handled: “The landscape was wonderful. It did not feel new nor simply self-possessed,” he wrote. “Something of the humanity of centuries had rubbed off on it. It was not threatening.”

In Rome his shipboard friends helped him secure lodgings and then they carried on north to Germany, leaving Chambers with a few tips and suggestions about how to make his way and what to check out but otherwise completely on his own in a strange land. Chambers stayed on in Rome for a couple of months, going out for extensive sketching walks each day, taking in the streets and piazzas with their spectacular fountains and the riversides and the racehorses going through their paces down at the Villa Borgesa, and then returning to his tiny rented apartment each night to work on half-length self-portraits and still lifes. While he doubtless absorbed a lot of details and fresh scenes during his daytime rambles, he wasn’t making much use of them in his evening routine which was identical (even down to sitting on the edge of a bed as he sketched out his likeness in a mirror) to that which he pursued back in London. Perhaps it was still too early. Regarding his stay in Rome, Chambers wrote another one of thosetoo-naïve-to-believe paragraphs in his autobiography: “One day I came up a long, modern looking avenue. It looked new and clean and only for pedestrians. At the end of it I could see a huge domed building and huge pillars enclosing a large circular plaza. It was immense. St. Peter’s Cathedral and the work of Raphael. [These likely would have included his immense 16th century masterpiece, The School of Athens; for most people, a highlight

of any tour of the art treasures of St. Peter’s and The Vatican.] I didn’t care for Raphael, but I went inside the cathedral and stared up at some wall paintings. It was dark and cold inside and the ceiling was very high. I never saw the ceiling. I came out. Years later, it came to me: Michelangelo; the Sistine Chapel. But then

could be when it came to acknowledging other artists, saying that when he was younger and was asked whose art he liked, he would often answer, “Nobody’s but my own.” Nancy Poole remembers him dropping into her gallery on some sort of business when another artist’s work was being displayed and disdainfully sniffing the air; “As much as to say, ‘Why do you bother with this?’ Oh yes, he had all the necessary arrogance that an artist must have.”

And we’ve also seen repeated instances of his wariness about allowing himself to be influenced by other artists, dead or alive. But after five years’ intensive study of art at various schools, not to mention his freelance plundering of glossy art books from the London Public Library, is it even remotely credible that Chambers could’ve stood in that space and not known what was overhead? If indeed he didn’t look up, I, like Poole, believe it was an act of negative will, not ignorance.

Chambers had travelled The Sistine Chapel at the Vatican in Rome to Europe because he felt painted by Michelangelo — an artist Jack that his art education was incomplete and lacking any Chambers refused to look up to. sort of classical foundation Rome was behind me and I had missed but for the first few months over there, that part of it.” he wasn’t taking any sort of action to Ross Woodman at first seems inaddress or correct that. At least to start, clined to believe that Chambers really his modus operandi seemed to be to hurl didn’t know what he was missing during himself into the deep end of Europe and his flying visit to perhaps the single drink in whatever impressions came his greatest repository of classical art in the way by purest happenstance and then Western world. “He’s the only person I’ve worry about digesting those or putting ever known who went into the Sistine together some sort of plan for getting Chapel and never looked up,” Woodman that education once he’d seen a few told me incredulously. But then he added things for himself and acclimatised hima few more words, suggesting that perself to the place. haps there was more going on here than speaking of matters climatic, ignorance. “I was outraged at the way towards the end of November he treated Europe initially. How could in Rome, Chambers’ Canadian-made inanyone go into the Sistine Chapel and not look at the ceiling? How could you do ner barometer was out of sync with his that? When you’re in there, everyone else environment and he felt a powerful physical need to experience snow and cooler around you is looking up.” weather. Following up on another contact Chambers’ agent and good friend, he’d received from his German shipmates, Nancy Poole, believes the oversight (or Chambers headed for higher and more should that be undersight?) was a bit northern ground by travelling to the outmore loaded than that. “Visiting the Sisskirts of the town of Graz in Austria. tine Chapel and not looking up,” I asked There he lived in utter old world rusher. “What was Jack expressing there?” ticity for about a month with a woman “His orneriness,” she replied, with a named Berta who owned a ramshackle weary sort of growl in her voice. two-storey farmhouse outside of town In a 1973 interview with Avis Lang, where she lived with her two teenaged Chambers recalled how belligerent he

children, her mother and her aunt, all of whom she provided for by teaching English. Chambers took over an unheated out-kitchen to use as his studio and finished a number of paintings and sketches there, including a gentle 1953 graphite sketch of Berta from behind, her hair held in place by a kerchief tied under her chin, which was given to the Art Gallery of Ontario by the Chambers family in 2007 and featured in that Gallery’s 2011-12 retrospective. The artist earned his keep by chopping wood and cleaning the floors and helping out when the town butcher came around to slaughter two of the goats that Berta raised. This was an experience that made a very deep impression on his mind and was vividly recalled in his autobiography: “The first one he smacked on the forehead with the butt of an axe. I have never heard a sound like the one this stricken kid made. It was a very highpitched scream of absolutely pure and helpless surprise. As a witness I felt that something in me had been violently assaulted. The butcher took the other kid into the shed and there was no sound except the smack of the axe. Later, we took the butchered animals in a box on a CONTINUED ON PAGE 18

a

And

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jack chambers FROM PAGE 17 sleigh to have sausages made at a shop downtown.”

One calls to mind here Chambers’ mesmerised boyhood sighting from the York Street Bridge of a drowned child being fished out of the Thames River. And one also looks ahead to the use he would make in his paintings and his films of creatures that are put down as nuisances or slaughtered for food or religiously sacrificed for the expiation of sin. Of course, any thinking being finds death troubling and compelling but with Chambers that dark fascination seemed to run even deeper. Indeed, he confessed in a 1971 article by an anonymous writer from The Sarnia Observer, that he had long found death strangely attractive.

“I can say that from my very early teens, I had the feeling of death being something that I really looked forward to. That wasn’t that I wanted to end my life, but it was something that was going to come at some unknown moment and it was going to be a completely different, altogether ‘other’ experience.”

A few years before that, when a CBC TV film crew came to London in 1966 to film a report on the city’s lively arts scene, Chambers (along with Greg

Curnoe and James Reaney) was part of a coterie of artists and hangers-on who assembled around a table at the York Hotel for an interview with host William Ronald. In one rather jarring segment of their conversation, Chambers coolly gazed at Ronald (an abstract artist of some renown and decked out in an ascot) and asked him matter-offactly: “Do you think a person should have the opportunity to die on TV? . . . A lot of people don’t want to die alone, so this is an opportunity to die observed by all your fellow men.”

By early January of 1954 Chambers’ inner barometer had been restored to some sort of equilibrium and deciding he had had quite enough of winter, he said his farewells to Berta and her kin and boarded a train for the sunnier climes of France. He fell into conversation and played a few rounds of chess with a priest, who, hearing that Chambers was looking for a good art academy, recommended the one in Vienna. “‘Where is that?’ I asked,” wrote Chambers. “He pointed back the way we had come. ‘It’s here in Austria,’ he said. Once again I had suffered from a lack of information.

‘Well, we’re going the wrong way now,’ I said, and we played some more.”

Chambers may have been unaware that Vienna was in Austria or that the world’s most celebrated religious mural was situated just over his head while visiting the Sistine Chapel, but as his train pulled into Cannes he tells us, “I knew that [Pablo] Picasso lived in Vallauris. It is a village a few kilometres above Cannes. Perhaps he’ll teach me something, I thought, and I walked up to Vallauris.”

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rriving at the great man’s walled villa in the evening, Chambers was informed by the porter in the gatehouse that Picasso was away in Nice.

Chambers wasn’t sure he believed that and rented a room in Vallauris for the night, returning to the estate the next morning before nine with a package of freshly purchased sausage to distract the Great Dane that patrolled the grounds. Throwing the meat to the dog, Chambers scaled the wall at the back of the house and knocked at a screen door.

For a 1970 Saturday feature for The London Free Press (at the time of his first retrospective at the Art Gallery of Ontario, a show which had travelled from the Vancouver Art Gallery) Chambers recalled his encounter with Picasso to Lenore Crawford: “In a couple of minutes Picasso came out in his underwear and sort of said in French, ‘What

Pablo Picasso (1881–1973), Les femmes d'Alger (Version “O”) oil on canvas, 45”×58”,1955

Jack Chambers was probably the only 20th century artist to ever turn down an invitation to talk with Picasso. the hell are you doing here?’”

More frightened of Picasso’s demeanour than the Great Dane’s, Chambers haltingly tried to summon up enough scraps of French language to let the older man know that he was an aspiring artist just over from Canada in search of a good art school. This seemed to soften Picasso’s wrath and the older artist laughed a little, saying, “Go to the school in Barcelona,” and “Come back later this afternoon and we can talk.”

Then, incredibly (and Crawford’s account makes this much more clear than Chambers’ own retelling of it in his autobiography) Chambers did not return in the afternoon for that extended talk with Picasso – an opportunity most aspiring artists would’ve killed for: “But I told him I was in a hurry. So I went down to the train station. I think I must have felt I was closer to where I was going and I wanted to keep on.”

Nor did he take the older artist’s advice. Yes, he took the train to Barcelona and stayed there for two days but he never bothered to check out the school that Picasso recommended. Then, on a bit of a whim, he took a boat ride over to Majorca where he laid low for a couple of months before enrolling at the Escuela Central de Bellas Artes de San Fernando in Madrid. So if he didn’t take his advice and didn’t even take up the great man’s offer to return for a more extensive conversation, then why did Chambers go calling on Pablo Picasso at all?

Nowhere else in his writing does Chambers cite Picasso as an influence or a figure he particularly looked up to or might wish to consult for advice.

But at that time Picasso unquestionably was the best-known living artist in the world; simultaneously the most famous and the most notorious, the most admired and the most reviled.

On reflection I have come to consider Chambers’ assault on Casa Picasso as a kind of bookend to his snubbing of the world’s most famous classical artist in the Sistine Chapel. In his autobiography Chambers presented the ‘visit’ to Picasso as a kind of homage being paid but I find it hard to construe it as such considering that he, in effect, broke into the place, caught out the old man in his underwear and then stood him up, rejecting his invitation to return for a private audience.

Indeed, as Ross Woodman said, the way he was treating Europe was utterly outrageous. Within three months of setting foot on European soil this aggressive little upstart from London, Ontario had managed to beard the world’s foremost artistic lions – both ancient and modern – in their very own dens. Now, with these little gestures of defiance out of the way, would Chambers be able to stop flitting about and get down to acquiring that classical education he’d crossed an ocean to find?

Excerpted from Three Artists: Kurelek, Chambers & Curnoe, available soon.

d isp a t ch e s f ro m d y s t o p i a

The Rites of Spring by

Ciara Allen

The unending

cold has finally been vanquished by Spring. Leaves bud on the trees, their new greenness unfurling like the wings of a butterfly exiting its cocoon. Now comes a vibrant display of fragrant vernal flowers, while lazy insects begin their work, buzzing from bloom to bloom. The days grow longer and the smiles brighter, everything and everyone in the blush of the season. The warming weather creeps up on you. Before you know it you’re sitting with a fan pointed directly at your face reapplying your makeup three times because you keep sweating through, trying to tuck your doughy winter butt into last year’s wardrobe. It’s Summer now, and you’re not ready.

All the warning signs were there. The stupid bugs. Those dumb flowers.

The damn leaves. All your idiot friends posting selfies from the gym.

Well the time is nigh, and you screwed up. Classic Ciara, or ... Someone else. Every year I try to get out ahead of the warm weather, and every year I find myself unprepared and miserable. It makes me wonder what I even like about it, if anything.

I hate being overheated. I hate shorts. They retain all the restrictiveness of pants without the coverage, so your thighs are sticking out of the leg holes like raw breakfast sausages.

And then there are skirts and dresses. Oh, how light, flowing and carefree! The comfort!

The whimsy! Until it blows up over your head in the middle of a crowded street and flashes everyone. There’s always wearing the aforementioned shorts underneath, but then all the breezy freedom of allowing your butt and thighs to air out is taken away from you.

I feel pressure to develop a “tan” even though everyone knows they’re for peasants. I have to put my milky white, blue-veined flesh on display and end up passing right over bronze to burnt anyway. And let’s not forget the near constant need for grooming. No one says you “have” to shave your legs but let’s be real, most women are probably going to do it. No longer can the cloak of winter be manipulated to hide our hirsuteness. If you can resist caving in to societal pressures for unnatural baldness of the legs I commend you, but it’s my lousy choice so just sit the hell down, Tumblr.

I suppose the coming of the warm weather doesn’t have to be all wallowing in misery and sweat puddles. The longer days are an opportunity to spend fuller evenings with friends, and if you can avoid the shark-eyed gaze of shirtless bros playing acoustic guitar on the grass, you can even swing a booze picnic in Victoria Park (the trick is to drink out of Starbucks cups to avoid suspicion). Even putting skyward-flying hemlines and razor-nicked knees aside, I do love an excuse to throw on my best frock and show off my well defined ankles. I may not love everything about summer, but I can learn to live with it. The only alternative is ceasing to exist, and I simply can’t take the time off work.

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potter’s wheel

potter’s wheel around around ‘round ‘round i feel the motion the motion the motion ‘round ‘round ‘round the EARTH goes around

the clay in my hands shapes and bends forms and bends plastic motion ‘round ‘round ‘round the earth goes around earth clay clay around

counter counter clockwise back in time back back back pre-historic chaos chaos earth clay clay CREATION around ‘round ‘round the wheel goes around

netty meyer

The Art of the Earth As one enters the London Clay Arts Centre the influence of artistic minds is immediately apparent. The renovated space, owned by the London Potters Guild, is large and bright and full of creativity from the decor of the shop to the two levels of production areas. It is a space where artistic minds can thrive and nurture one another.

Hannah Pruder, one of two artists in residence, has come to London after completing BFA in 3D art at Brigham UniversityIdaho. Hannah enjoys a cubicle workshop on the first floor where she is free to create her works while contributing to the Centre’s daily tasks over the course of a year. It is one of many cubicle work spaces that are available to the LPG members.

Hannah Pruder, Artist in Residence at the London Clay Arts Centre, forms clay into an artistic creation.

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On the second floor, a large open space, is devoted to more cubicles and a large teaching area where budding artisans can learn the craft. But it is not only newcomers to the arts world that come to the Centre for instruction. Ruth Sloan and Carol Finkbiner, two arts teachers from Strathroy District Collegiate Institute and Medway High School, respectively, came to the Centre to learn a new skill to pass on to their art students. Chris Snedden, an instructor at the Centre, guided the two teachers, through the process of painting coloured slip (liquified clay) on cut out pictures to transfer onto pots or tiles before their final firing.

The atmosphere of the Centre, due to its creative and contemplative inhabitants, is a mixture of relaxed focus and humour.

Local secondary school art teachers, Carol Finkbiner and Ruth Sloan (top left and right), receive instruction from London Clay Arts Centre instructor, Chris Sneddon, on the art of creating slip appliques to apply to pottery.

Forest City Folk is an ongoing documentary of contemporary life in London, Ontario

by London photojournalist Menno Meijer 05.26.16

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t hen pl a y on

Friday MAY 20 to Thursday MAY 26 WESTERN FILM is proud to present

LOST CLASSIC

by Dave Clarke

The Jackson Sisters

AROUND TOWN

The Jackson Sisters Tiger Lily Records (1976)

The Pack A.D.

T

hough they sported the same surname and what appeared to be similar stage outfits, the Jackson Sisters were not related to the more famous Jackson Brothers.

at Call the Office Tuesday, June 7th

In

McKELLAR ROOM, 2ND FLOOR, UCC 519 661 3616 • WESTERNFILM.CA

the sudden rush of guitar/ drum duos, Vancouver’s Pack A.D. stood out, not because they were women, but because of their gritty garage rock sound and their explosive live performances.

Guitar vocalist Becky Black and drummer Maya Miller formed the pack 10 years ago, releasing their debut album Tintype in 2007. Four more albums followed with their fifth effort Do Not Engage released in 2014. The alliterative duo have made London a frequent stop when touring and have garnered a large local fan base. They’ll be packing them in again as they command the stage of Call the Office June 7th with opening act Grey Lands. Admission is $10 with an 8pm start.

MONDO PHONO

Bob McFadden The Mummy/The Beat Generation Brunswick (1959)

W

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onderful novelty tune that sees cartoon voice actor Bob McFadden (Milton the Monster, Cool McCool and Frankenberry) as the mummy lamenting the fact that everyone runs away screaming when he walks up to them. Between McFadden’s hilarious nasal voice, appropriate sound effects and rocking musical background, this is bound to raise a smile. The mummy finally meets up with a beatnik (voiced by poet singer Rod McKuen) who keeps his cool and when asked by the shocked mummy if he’s going to scream, he coolly replies “Like Help”.

Though credited to McFadden the flip side is Rod McKuen on his own espousing the joys of beatnikdom to an appropriately jazzy tune, and the tune was reworked strangely enough

by Richard Hell for his song The Blank Generation.

McFadden and company managed to release a whole album of similar nonsense, Songs Our Mummy Taught Us.

Their one and only album from 1976 was pretty much ignored at the time, just barely making it into the top 100 soul charts, and they fell into obscurity until rediscovered by the UK rare groove movement, which sent collectors fervently seeking out originals and driving the price up to four figures.

The girls were from Compton, California but relocated to Detroit where they came under the tutelage of former Motown producer Johnny Bristol, who wrote the bulk of the original tunes and produced the album. It’s a really fine soul funk LP with the vocals split between the youngest Gennie Jackson, who perhaps to their detriment sounds a lot like the young Michael Jackson especially on their cover of Why do Fools Fall in Love? (which has a definite I Want You Back vibe) and oldest sister Jacqueline who can channel Gladys Knight on tracks like More than Just a Friend or Aretha Franklin on tracks like Shake Her Loose or Boy You’re Dynamite.

The centrepiece of the album is Miracles, with vocals shared by Jacqueline and Gennie, a killer soul funk tune that caught the ear of Basement Jaxx who heavily sampled the song on their Miracles Keep on Playing tune from their Remedy album.

SHORTLISTED

Five Cool Songs from Bad Movies

1The Five Blobs

Arch Hall Jr.

Beware the Blob from The Blob 1958 Not as bad a movie as some of these classics, earning cult status as the debut flick for Steve McQueen and its iconic scene where the runaway Jello chases the patrons out of a movie theatre. The theme song is a strange mixture of Billy Vaughn syrupy saxophone, a Tequila type beat and a cute little popping effect.

With lyrics like “It creeps and leaps and glides and slides across the floor.....a splotch, a blotch be careful of the blob”, it’s a surprising early effort from the big time writing duo of Burt Bacharach and Hal David.

2 Arch Hall Jr. Twist Fever from Wild Guitar

1962

Troll-faced actor Arch Hall Jr starred in a series of juvenile delinquent films, like this one, The Choppers and The Sadist, but was also a double threat as a frustrated rocker. This is a pretty good rockabilly number as compared to his two V-obsessed ballads Vicki and Valerie from the cult caveman cheesefest, Eegah.

Kay 3 Carol and the Stonetones

Shook Out of Shape from The Incredibly Strange Creatures who Stopped Living and Became Mixed Up Zombies 1964

Billed as “The First Monster Musical”, auteur Ray Dennis Steckler’s most famous film, features amateurish dance numbers and painfully bad acting but also sports eye-searing colour cinematography and this cool little rocker from Carol Kay (not to be confused with session bassist and Wrecking Crew member) and the Stonetones.

4 Betty Dickson Shanty Tramp from Shanty Tramp

1967

They don’t come any more lurid then this tale of racism and incest in the story of “the girl who loved them all” that features a theme song that’s just as sleazy as the film it’s featured in. The lovely Ms. Dickson, with cool backing vocals croons this catchy chorus: “Shanty tramp I’m as sweet as honey / To you it may be funny / I give my love and all I get is money”.

Roberts 5 Rocky and the Airedales

The Bird is the Word from The Wild Wild World of Jayne Mansfield 1968 This movie was rush-released to cash in on the unfortunate death of busty star Jayne Mansfield, turning footage of her European travels into a “Mondo” style shockumentary that included fake narration by another actress. Besides the appearance of the all-girl topless band The Ladybirds, Mansfield can be seen doing the twist to Rocky Roberts and the Airedales, rocking The Bird is the Word. The song is no relation to The Trashmen’s Surfin’ Bird or the Rivington’s Papa Oo Mow Mow but is a great frat rocker.

Rocky Roberts and the Airedales

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l ook at t h i s

Painting the Power of the Sea

by Nida Home Doherty

In the 28 watercolours

by the prolific painter William St. Thomas Smith, currently showing at the Thielsen Gallery, a very distinctive application of paint strikes the eye.

After an initial broad sweeping gaze at his work, one thing lingers in the mind — St. Thomas Smith’s undeniable ability to capture fully the depth, vastness, and varying and unyielding temperament of the sea. It is not surprising that at one time in his career St Thomas Smith was recognized as “one of the greatest marine painters and watercolourists of his time.”

It could be argued that this holds true even today.

For someone who was so drawn to the sea shore, it seems rather odd that this artist should choose to settle in landlocked St. Thomas, Ontario, for most of his lengthy career (St. Thomas Smith was born in 1862 and died in 1946). Although he painted in a variety of genres, as can readily be seen in the exquisitely rendered, atmospheric landscape paintings in this current exhibition, and in his substantially rendered local landscapes near

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William St. Thomas Smith, Untitled Seaside Village, watercolour, 25.25”x 39.25”

his St. Thomas home, it was his obsession with the sea coast that really dominated his life as an artist.

From 1890 onward he was committed to making annual summer trips to coastal areas, with lengthy stays of three to six months, and sometimes longer. His travels included trips to the east coast of Canada, but also the southwest coast of England, notably the Cornwall area. But he most often frequented the place of his roots, the Orkney Islands of Scotland, returning there annually for a period of twenty years.

With his love of intensely atmospheric sea shores, and devotion to painting dramatic bodies of water, over time St. Thomas Smith developed his renowned skill as a marine painter. It was a skill that went much deeper than any surface representation, in placing human existence against the movement of vast oceans and coastal shores and arriving at an approach to painting that was uniquely profound.

Low Tide and Anstruther, Scotland, two paintings in the show, depict a receding ocean tide. Appearing like a sleeping giant, the ocean rests quietly in its

vastness. A few locals leisurely engage in this moment of tranquility by lighting a fire on the bared rocks, or simply walk or stand against the light sea breeze, creating an idyllic scene of humans and nature existing in quiet unity. Human forms are somewhat visible in the atmospheric coastal shore of fog, wet rock, mist, and a heavy dampness, which St. Thomas Smith has brilliantly captured through a fluidity of brush stroke, and aptly rendered washes in tones of greys, blues, and greens.

Near Lockport, Nova Scotia, is a coastal scene showing the tide when fully high, with tempered waves rocking and ebbing against the ocean shoreline. At the water’s edge three or four fisherman make ready their small boats amidst an overwhelming sense of isolation of near barren land and vast empty sea. The men prepare to embark into a gigantic ocean that is beginning to show its turbulence.

Stalwart courage and strength of human endeavour are presented here, as human existence engages in a struggle with nature as a necessity of survival. The colours of the seascape and sky are strong greens and greys, whereas the men and the landscape are painted in contrasting colours of browns, yellows, and even a touch of red.

St. Thomas Smith’s skillful use of an opaque white paint aids in capturing the elusive sunlight of the eastern marine coast.

Untitled Seaside Village, Untitled

William St Thomas Smith, Untitled Seascape, watercolour, 9.75” x 13.75”

Seasape, and Untitled Steamer in Rough Water, all show a massive body of water under the effect of coastal gales — depicting the threatening and ominous side of the sea. The sea has become an awakened giant with no sense of limits.

With vivid marine blues, and strong greens and skillfully selected greys of graded values, and through using loose brush strokes, St. Thomas Smith succinctly demonstrates his skill for cap-

turing the potential devastation of the sea. With sailing ships listing frantically in deep, torrential waters, and coastal cottage homes battered with gale force winds, humankind is seen here as being at nature’s uncaring mercy.

In all of St. Thomas Smith’s seascape paintings we connect with the ebb and flow of the tidal pull in a very visceral way. These works allow us to escape into the drama of the atmospheric moment and place. But at the same moment we are overcome with a moment of deep despair, as St. Thomas Smith makes us fully aware of the power of the oceans water.

St. Thomas Smith’s paintings might be undervalued when applying such terms as overly conservative, realistic, and/or purely representational. This limited appreciation of his work using a historical perspective misses a deeper understanding of his ability. The sea, seen as a metaphor of the time, makes the work even more relevant today than it was in the first quarter of the 20th Century. The disturbing aspect of the sea and the underlying threatening forces, which St. Thomas Smith so aptly captured, evoke thoughts of the disturbing undercurrent happening today on a global scale. Such malevolent forces are beyond the political struggles, “Where ignorant armies clash by night” and the imminence of such wars that Matthew Arnold alluded to in his poem Dover Beach. The devastation of “ignorant armies” are also felt today. But even darker forces are present now, poised to destroy human existence and life on earth itself.

Watercolours of William St. Thomas Smith on view to May 28, 2016 Thielsen Gallery, 1038 Adelaide St. North, London, ON 519-434-7681 http://www.thielsengallery. com/index.cfm

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www.londonyodeller.ca 25

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Dear Uncle Bruce — Whenever we visit my widowed mother who’s going a little gaga and will probably have to be moved into private care before too long, she always has the TV blaring away even though she doesn’t really watch it because her attention span is shot. We insist on turning it off for the duration of our visit but I know the minute we’re out the door, she pops it back on. It’s strange; she retains almost nothing that’s going on with her family but she’s convinced that global warming and climate change are the real deal and says that we’re all going to be fried to crisps if we don’t get drowned in some tsunami generated by catastrophically rising tides. I’m dreading the day she forgets who we are and am a little hurt that she’s filling what little space is left in her brain with this wacko-environmentalist claptrap. Why does that nonsense take precedence over us?

— One Miffed Child Dear One Miffed Child — Let me go way out on a limb here and ask you if your mom’s omnipresent TV isn’t usually tuned to the Weather Network? In my experience that wretched station even tops the Shopping Channel with folks whose brains are failing and who cannot absorb much in the way of new information.

Everything gets repeated every ten minutes and sandwiched in between the forecasts are the latest bulletins from around the globe of apocalyptic weather events. So of course she thinks the planet is hurtling its way to Hell in a historically unprecedented way. That’s all she ever hears, waking and sleeping, and with that sort of numbing reiteration, some of it’s getting through.

— Sincerely, Uncle Bruce

n Dear Uncle Bruce — We’ve been talking about rejuvenating downtown London as a centre of commercial enterprise for decades now but with the possible exception of relocating our hockey arena downtown (which has been good for surrounding restaurants, bars and parking lots) all this talk is beginning to sound to me like so much ‘rah rah rah’ boosterism with nothing very real being put forward. Do you see any solid indications of improvement on the horizon?

— Wants to Support the Core

Dear Wants to Support the Core — I admit I was starting to share you skepticism until I read Michelle Baldwin, executive director of the Pillar Nonprofit Network in last week’s Londoner, talking about their bold plans for the new Innovation Works to be located in the vacated head offices of Goodlife Fitness:

“Our vision is to spark social innovation and change and to do that

by collaboration and innovation and to do that by bringing together a diverse group of non-profit, social enterprises, and individuals who really want to transform London and to put them in a space where they can really move their idea, their enterprise, their venture forward. The building is a beautiful building that has lots of history and soul, but more importantly it’s what’s going to happen inside. The way that we set up the space will really contribute to doing that because you want them to intentionally ‘collide’. But you also want them to be able to be productive in their own space and to have some flexibility in their package as to what that looks like, so that the space can grow and expand and scale [sic] when they need it, and pull back if that’s what they need it too [sic].”

Now, come on, that’s a business plan with real traction.

— Sincerely, Uncle Bruce 26 the london yodeller

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al l t ha t I s u r v e y

The Desolation of the Post-Gay Liberation Era The Internet is the worst thing that ever happened to the gay world . . . .

by Joseph Couture

be You might tempted

to think there has never been a better time for the gay community. But you would be wrong.

It is a time of crisis. What’s happening in the States with the growing backlash against gay rights is merely one aspect of the problem. Here at home, it is what is happening internally that is most worrisome. I’ve been an openly gay man for more than thirty years. I hope I haven’t seen it all, but I might be close. What is clear looking back over the span of three decades of immersion in the community is how there never really was a community in the first place, and what passed for one is slipping away.

There have never been any membership requirements to join this club. You can be of any race, religion, age, education, socio-economic status or political stripe. The only thing we have in common is our same-sex attraction. Even the

degree to which each individual experiences that same-sex attraction varies enormously. Lots of guys don’t even use the label gay or bisexual, just some vague concept of “men who sleep with men,” creating a category even less committed to the team than your average closet case. In other words, we have nothing in common except whom we (sometimes) like to sleep with.

Thus what we called “the gay community” was really just spaces where we met to find people to sleep with. In the old days those were parks, bars down dark alleys, bookstores, tearooms and bathhouses. If there was any sense of belonging in one of those places, it was only because we were all looking for the same thing and taking some risk to do it. Those spaces and that culture are rapidly disappearing.

There are only a handful of gay bookstores left in North America, a consequence of the fact that you can find any gay book on Amazon, and loyalty is not enough to beat out convenience and deep discounts.

Virtually every gay magazine has either folded or retreated to a modest on-line presence.

That’s because, aside from the occasional celebrity coming out, there is little “gay news” that

you can’t find in the mainstream press. The gay district in Toronto has few gay-owned businesses left. It has been Starbuck-ified into oblivion.

The bars and bathhouses are also vanishing. That is because most cruising happens on-line.

You no longer have to turn up in person and show your face to meet someone; just select a body part or two and show it in a selfie.

We have entered the post gay liberation era, and it’s quite something. Straights love us.

They love us more than we love ourselves. In fact, they love us so much you’re not considered modern or cool unless you have gay friends and bring your kids to a gay pride parade. These events are so family friendly now that you’re more likely to see opportunistic politicians and grandmothers and masses of dykes pushing strollers than shirtless men dancing to the Village People. The whole affair is so damn respectable. It isn’t any fun at all.

So why am I not feeling the love, you ask? Because while gays have more career opportunities than ever, we also have more guilt and angst that at any time I can remember. Sure, we can get married. But mostly we don’t. The last available census

data shows that not even one percent of all married couples are gay or lesbian, and I’ll bet a good deal of them fall on the lesbian side. There appears to be an inverse relationship between how much acceptance we have in the broader commu-

The gay pride parade is so family friendly now that you’re more likely to see opportunistic politicians and grandmothers and masses of dykes pushing strollers than shirtless men dancing to the Village People.

nity and how much respect we have for ourselves. Outside the big cities, it’s still rare to see many people living openly gay lives. They don’t even like to say they are gay in private.

The Internet is the worst thing that ever happened to the gay world. Everyone goes online to find partners, and not the kind you bring home to mom. On any given day here in London there are a dozen

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pages of men looking for casual sex and not one of them wants a relationship or will even show a face picture. They love to say you must be “straight looking and straight acting,” and definitely not effeminate, or you are dead in the water. (If it weren’t for the supposedly straight married men in my life, I wouldn’t get any dates at all.) Another must is that you are required to be “discreet”. We treat our guilty pleasures like dirty little secrets that have to be hidden at all costs and almost no one meets the same person more than once, which starts to get personal. Dude after dude asks me, “Are you discreet?” No, I say. I send out emails, tweets and Facebook posts about everyone I hook up with immediately. Stupid. As if anyone cared and as if they were all so important that they have to hide like Hollywood’s leading men.

So this is what the post gay lib world looks like. Bunches of people “acting” like everyone else and desperate to be invisible. Sorry, but I preferred it when everyone else disliked us and there was always a party going on somewhere. Maybe, like every other grown-up, I’m just pining for the better days of yesteryear. But really, is this better? p

www.londonyodeller.ca 27

ri p l a sh

The Tears of a Clown

by Jason Rip

There ain’t too much sadder than the — Smokey Robinson tears of a clown.

L

28 the london yodeller

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yn Cooper

says she is feeling exhausted after performing her one woman show Outside The Box four times in three days. “Monday I spent the whole day in bed,” she said. Cooper suffers from severe arthritis in her knees but, like any good performer, she forgets her limits when she takes the stage.

The show, a fortyfive minute account of Cooper’s transcendence of both her abusive background and her own mental health issues, raised over $400 for My Sister’s Place, a supportive environment for women experiencing homelessness, addiction, and/or mental health issues.

“It’s definitely more of a confession than it is fiction,” said Cooper.

“The trappings are theatre, but the story is very real.”

Outside The Box takes Cooper from the “Family Box” of her birth in Kirkland Lake, Ontario through years of physical and sexual abuse, two suicide attempts, and a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder.

She credits her recovery to the unconditional love of her mother, the joy of clowning, and the realization that “this was not my shame to own.”

That’s right – Lyn Cooper is a clown. For twenty years, her alter ego has been Betty Bub-

bles. “I’m a moderate Auguste clown, although I used to be a whitefaced clown. Sometimes kids find the white-faced clown kind of scary.”

The Auguste clown is a happier type, a joker and a comedian. Cooper was trained by Leon “Buttons” McBride, a former Ringling Brothers clown.

She’s also pretty handy with balloon animals, a self-described ‘balloonatic” with poodles and a fire-breathing dragon as her signature creations.

“I’ve been paid more per hour to be a clown than any other job I’ve had,” said Cooper.

face to hide behind as she presents her raw and harrowing tale. My reaction as a viewer was that Miss Cooper has had one of the hardest lives I had ever heard of outside of the Third World. Years of abuse from family members, alcoholism, the deaths of loved ones through suicide and automobile accidents, and two miscarriages, Cooper has been through a lot. “It’s kind of gleeful to make people cry,” said Cooper. “I brought myself to tears several times in rehearsal.” The most difficult part of the play for her is the moment where she experiences grief up to the point of physical collapse.

She gives her director Marina Sheppard a

Lyn Cooper as her alter ego Betty Bubbles

“Sometimes I can bring in $2000 a month.” Her “six clown gang” Giggles Unlimited has performed all over Southwestern Ontario and even up north, near the town of her birth. She has invested several thousand dollars in costuming, including the mandatory giant shoes.

Outside The Box gives Cooper no clown

lot of credit for taking the play from the workshop stage to its final form. “Marina helped me a lot with emotional nuances and connections,” said Cooper. They first met at an Elgin Theatre Guild production of Stephen King’s Misery where Cooper played the insane Annie Wilkes and Sheppard was her wardrobe assistant.

Lyn Cooper is portraying a version of herself that no longer exists. “ This play puts me in a Being John Malkovich situation, being myself but not myself” Outside The Box was first performed in 2009, part of a mental health symposium called Thriving: 2010 and Beyond. Eight years later, Kelly McDonald of Out of Sight Productions, a theatre company that blends visually impaired and sighted actors, remembered the piece fondly and encouraged Cooper to breathe new life into it. McDonald also did the sound design for the play.

When asked about the challenges of playing herself onstage, Cooper said that she is portraying a version of herself that no longer exists. “I can’t help but be a character.

I’m always a character,” she said. “This play puts me in a Being John Malkovich situation, being myself but not myself.”

A powerful component of the staging involves Cooper literally affixing multiple labels onto herself: “Fat,” “Slut,” “Mental,” “Agoraphobic,”

etc. She also performs completely encompassed by actual boxes, also affixed with labels: “The Family Box,” “The School Box,” all the boxes that life tries to keep us trapped inside of. Her sole companion is a thin little doll, all the protection that a small child can muster against the myriad forces of darkness.

Cooper’s first performances were at the Hassan Law Community Gallery. Cooper had done some clowning work for the Hassan Family and she credits Sharon Hassan for taking an interest in her story.

It’s important to note that Outside The Box is not a story about despair but a story of recovery. “I’m very happy now,” says Cooper. “I want to share my story as often as I can. I believe that if I can prevail then so can anyone.” In addi-

tion to her clown career (children’s birthday parties are her bread and butter) Cooper has worked as a school bus driver and a personal support worker. Life can still be hard, and Cooper admits that she must access the local Food Bank from time to time.

As she reviews the rocky road of her past, she balances life’s hardships with her ability to escape and endure.

“When I think about it, I was almost on the cusp of being an attic child, stowed away without much love or light.” She recalls being denied entrance into Alcoholics Anonymous because she was only seventeen at the time. “People’s approach to mental health at the time was one of zero sympathy,” she said.

“I was told to ride the storm and to get up and walk on my broken legs.”

Outside The Box is scheduled to be performed on August 13th as a benefit for Life*Spin, an empowerment hub for low income families.

When asked how she is feeling in the aftermath of her first run, Cooper reiterated that she was feeling exhausted but encouraged.

London is perpetually starved for issuebased theatre. Outside The Box not only sets off in a bold new direction but helps to raise money for worthy causes. All the best to Lyn Cooper and her continued transcendence. Let’s hope that this clown smiles more than she cries. p

Unique Home, Gifts and Accessories

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t hea tre sp a c e

Madame Curie A Biographical Dream Play

by Adam Corrigan Holowitz

L

ondon playwright and actor Aimee Adler has long had a fascination with the early twentieth century Polish born, French physicist Marie Curie. One Halloween she even dressed up as a Radio Active Madame Curie and, as she says, “bored the friend I was with” talking about all things Curie. It was then that her friend, possibly trying to change the subject, suggested Adler write a play on Curie.

Adler did just that. Premiering at this year’s London Fringe Festival will be Adler’s new solo play Madame Curie.

Adler is no stranger to writing plays about historical twentieth century icons. Her play Of Some Importance, which premiered a few years back at The ARTS Project, was an imagining of Oscar Wilde living in a fictionalized high society London populated with characters from all of his own plays.

With that play the objective

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was to prove how all of Wilde’s plays are of the same universe and that Oscar himself fit into that cosmology. After Madame Curie, Adler’s next play will be on the female Jazz Age nightclub owner known as Bricktop.

With all three of these plays Adler says that she likes finding stories that are tucked away in the corners of history. With Madame Curie she is especially interested in highlighting early feminist history.

The play Madame Curie is not the first time Adler has written on Marie Curie. In her late teens and her early twenties she wrote a lot of poetry.

At one point she had started writing a series of poems on Marie Curie. The writing process of the play involved returning to these poems. Adler says that some of the poems appear in the play as they were first written. They are used for transitions between scenes.

She used other poems as a basis for scenes and further fleshed them out. “A lot of the poems evolved,” Adler says. “It

was a process of turning poetic fragments into full sentences.

A poem is a snap shot of one moment.” In order to theatricalize the poems Adler had to turn these snapshot moments into longer living scenes.

The first version of the script that Aimee wrote was later scrapped almost in its en-

For playwright Aimee Adler it was important to have a woman director because one of Marie Curie’s great goals in life was to employ women in jobs that men traditionally filled

tirety. Her next draft was a less linear structure. The events of the play are still chronological.

However the play has a dream world quality to it. The reason she chose to make the play a dream was that, “It made the story more personal. We follow Curie’s inner thoughts instead of what she is saying out loud.”

What a character says out loud might not always be the truth.

What is said out loud is generally guarded as opposed to a character’s inner thoughts which are unfettered. The dream play is a way to navigate through the personal inner experience.

The personal journey that the audience will be privy to is that of a very complicated and tenacious life. Adler describes Curie as having “an incredible drive.” Marie Curie was born in 1867 in Russian Czar-ruled Poland. She grew up during a time when the Czar was cracking down on women’s education,

London playwright and actor Aimee Adler has transformed her fascination with Marie Curie into a play premiering at this year’s London Fringe Festival.

especially in science. It was illegal for a woman to study science. So Curie would sneak into laboratories and classrooms. She sought out education in secret. This was something she, and those helping her, could have been punished for with execution. Adler sees that the drive Curie had for education against huge obstacles is what has made her a feminist icon. One of the main themes of Adler’s play is that everyone has a right to education, that knowledge belongs to everyone.

Curie immigrated to Paris where she furthered her studies. She became the first woman professor at the University of Paris. She founded the Radium Institute, coining the theory of radioactivity. She was also the first woman to win a Nobel Prize.

In fact she won the Nobel Prize twice during her career. Her close proximity to radium would tragically lead to her early death from radiation poisoning.

Adler say she thinks Curie’s “coolest achievement” is that she invented the first portable X-Ray machines which were used in World War One. These machines were strapped to cars, which were donated to the war effort, and driven to the front lines. This invention led to countless soldier’s lives being saved.

This production is directed by Martha Zimmerman. For Adler it was important to have a woman director because one of Curie’s great goals in life was to employ women in jobs

that men traditionally filled. Zimmerman is also one of the city’s top talents and Adler and Zimmerman have a close artistic bond.

Adler wants audiences to know that the play is as much about the human being Curie, as it is about her work. She jokes, saying, “I didn’t want this to be forty-five minutes of a woman dying of radiation poisoning. I want people to discover the amazing personal life of Curie.” Adler notes that Curie did not always make the most admirable choices in her life. As well she was at the centre of a high profile scandalous affair in her later years. But the reason she is a hero is because she was strong willed. As Adler has rehearsed playing Curie, she has discovered Curie’s sheer “passion for discovery and the joy and happiness that came with her making discoveries.” Adler’s passion for Curie shines through as she speaks about Curie and that passion lends itself to what promises to be an exciting Fringe play.

Madame Curie Written & performed by Aimee Adler Directed by Martha Zimmerman Friday, June 3 at 7 pm Sunday, June 5 at 4 pm Tuesday, June 7 at 5 pm Wednesday, June 8 at 7 pm Friday, June 10 at 5 pm Saturday, June 11 at 9 pm The ARTS Project, 203 Dundas Street Part of the London Fringe Festival Tickets: $12.00 for sale at the door or at www.londonfringe.ca

SUPPORT THESE FINE BUSINESSES WHERE YOU’LL FIND Aeolian Hall Museum London the art centre Music & Video Place THE ART EMPORIUM mystic bookshop art exchange THE OLDE BAKERY CAFE artisan bakery ON THE SIDE ANTIQUES The Arts Project Palace Theatre FRAMING & ART CENTRE Attic Books PLAYWORLD FRINGE CUSTOM FRAMING & GALLERY Beat Goes On quiznos Grand Theatre BELLONE’S RAILWAY CITY BREWERY harvey’s Bijan’s Art Studio red roaster irene’s fish & chips B.J.’S COUNTRY MARKET root cellar organic cafe joe kool’s BONDI’S PIZZA scot’s corner John Bellone’s THE BOOK BIN Speed City records KING EDWARD RESTAURANT boston pizza Starbucks L.A. Mood Cardinal Books STRATHROY ANTIQUE MALL LITTLE BEAVER RESTAURANT Chaucer’s Pub subway THE LITTLE BOOK SHOPPE cherryhill mall Sunrise Records LITTLE RED’S PUB & EATERY Citi-Plaza mall tim horton’s london library branches city lights bookshop turner’s drug store London Music Club Coffee Culture VILLAGE PIZZA london pain & headache clinic Covent Garden Market western fair district Long & McQuade culture rising westland gallery LUCAN DONNELLY MUSEUM DAVID’S BISTRO white oaks mall memory lane antiques ELGIN COUNTY MUSEUM WIMPY’S DINER ELGIN COUNTY RAILWAY MUSEUM Michael Gibson Gallery WOODSTOCK ART GALLERY muldoon’s pizza Forest City Surplus YO YO’S YOGHURT 05.26.16

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sounds r azor

Fiery Implosion at the Geek Works

by Sean Twist

. . . . We interrupt Uncle Bob’s Hayley Mills Fan Fiction Hour for breaking news here on Yodeller Radio. We are getting reports that the underground base for London’s Geek Council on Richmond Street – hidden in the old stables beneath what used to be the New Yorker – is now a raging inferno. Police have cordoned off the area and are offering anyone with information a free copy of Pokemon Yellow. We now return to our regularly scheduled programme.

Keep listening to Yodeller Radio for updates on this mildly interesting situation . . . .

THEY HAD BURST through the door like banshees, wailing with fury and non-exclusionary screams for vengeance. Smoke bombs of Axe Body Spray stung my eyes as I tried to rise from the table. In seconds, I saw two of our members die. Mary of House Korra was impaled on a spear with a Big Bang Theory flag flapping from the point. It fell gently over her face as she died. Jasmine of House Anime was garroted with My Little Pony shoelaces. Jennifer, of House Potter and our President, was shouting ‘Expelliarmus!’ before disappearing beneath a wave of Deadpool t-shirts, army pants, and unwashed hair.

We knew this was coming.

The Oracle, who had been there to divine the coming year in London’s geek community, had only shrugged. “Sure, spoil the surprise,” she said, before disappearing up the ladder to Richmond Street.

Someone grabbed me and threw me after the Oracle. I could hear the screams. Screams of pain. Screams of outrage. Screams of fury at 3DS games being turned off before they could be saved. Then I was climbing the ladder, someone pushing me from behind, cursing in Sindarin.

The Oracle had just lifted the manhole cover at the ladder’s top when a wall of flame burst above her. She dropped down, her Converses catch-

ing me full in the face. The last thing I remember was hearing the Oracle pop her bubble gum and say, “For reals?”

I AWOKE on the rooftop above L.A. Mood. A woman’s face hovered above me. Dark eyes framed by dark hair and a dark expression. “Wakey wakey,” she

When fandom became mainstream, I knew we were done for said, before gently tapping me on the cheek and moving away.

I was resting against a parapet. I could see the smoke billowing into the night sky, mingling with the whine of sirens. The woman crouched beside me, taking in the destruction on the street below.

“Maeve,” I said.

“Aww, you remember,” she replied without turning around.

“Did you save me? “ “You were above me on the ladder.”

“You dragged me all the way up here?”

“Don’t read too much into it, champ.”

“Okay, I won’t.” My fingers traced Converse tracks still fading on my face.

“But thanks.”

“Awesome. Be quiet now.”

Maeve was the Head of House Martin. They had formed years ago, when the first Game of Thrones novel came out, rising quickly through the London Geek Council hierarchy. They excelled at politics and social media curbstomping. The last head of House Martin had become unstable when the television show outpaced the novels. “What’s this bullshit?”

he had shouted over and over before being removed from our last meeting. He had disappeared after that, the more romantic House members thinking he had gone to either the Wall or Tillsonburg.

Shortly thereafter, Maeve had come forth to assume the empty chair.

We didn’t ask any questions. Maeve didn’t look like she would answer them, anyway.

I turned around and got to my knees, taking in the scene below us.

“What House are you again?” Maeve asked.

“House Toho.” I coughed from the smoke from our burning home and formerly exquisite manga collection. “We just got promoted last month.”

“Oh, the Godzilla people.” A brief appraising look. “You guys were C Division for so long. You, House Stargate and the rest of the VHS crowd. Where did you have your meetings again? A bus shelter?”

“The back of the 12 Wharncliffe, actually.”

Maeve snorted. “Look at you. Who got relegated?”

“House DC, after Batman V. Superman came out.”

“Oh yeah.” She smiled. “Good times.”

We didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just watching the firemen and cops check their Facebooks on their phones.

“The Oracle seemed to know this was coming,” I offered.

“Of course it was.” Maeve pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. “When fandom became mainstream, I knew we were done for. It’s not about loving things anymore. It’s about simply being a fan. A fan of this show, a fan of that book.

Fans getting together and fanning out. It’s

all surface now, an excuse for extroverts to be the centre of attention. God forbid you actually learn about the shows, the movies, or the books, or think about them.

Which is why we have to die.”

“Because we do?”

“Because we make New Fans feel uneasy. You heard the woman at the last meeting. She said we were being ‘exclusionary’. That we shouldn’t mock someone for saying they were a Buffy fan but didn’t know Buffy’s last name. Or a Tolkien fan for not being able to name all Nine Companions. That we were mean.”

“The ‘you’re perpetuating microaggressions established by a tyrannical nerdomancy’ lady?”

“Yeah. With the Pikachu sweater and overbite.”

“She was a treat.”

“They’re here.”

I turned to see two men clamber onto the roof. Their Deadpool T-shirts and browncoats were still smoking. One man puffed on an inhaler. The other took a Selfie, then glared at us.

“Clear eyes, geek hearts, you lose!” he shouted.

“That’s a sports show, you dork,” Maeve sighed.

She helped me to my feet.

“Always with the judgement!” Inhaler Boy wheezed. “But not for much longer.”

He pulled a Super Soaker out of his jacket.

“This is filled with pee,” he giggled.

“Ever see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?” Maeve asked them.

“What? What’s that?”

I saw a knife flash in Maeve’s hand just as her other one found mine.

“Didn’t think so,” she said, and we p moved.

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thur MAY 26th - we d J UNe 8 th Send us your listing (25 words max): info@londonyodeller.ca De a dline for June 9 – june 22 issue is W edNE SDAY June 1

music & c lu b s 26 MAY THURSDAY LONDON MUSIC CLUB Benjamin Dakota Rogers/ Nick Sherman · 8pm · $10 27 MAY FRIDAY AEOLIAN HALL Emilie-Claire Barlow 7pm · $30 adv · $35 door CALL THE OFFICE Motown 9pm · $5 · 19+ EASTSIDE BAR & GRILL Chris Antonik 9pm LONDON MUSIC CLUB Monthly Irish Ceili · 8pm · FREE LONDON MUSIC HALL Trio of Trios - Monkey Junk/ The Paul Deslaurier Band/ Cecile Doo-Kingue · 7pm · $30 · 19+ / Millennials/ Olivia & the Creepy Crawlies/ Mountain of Wolves · 10pm · $5 NORMA JEAN'S Diamond Dust · FREE THE WORTLEY Autopilot · 10pm YUK YUK'S Kyle Radke · 8pm · $19.92 · 19+ 28 MAY SATURDAY AEOLIAN HALL Canadian Celtic Choir 6:30pm · $25 adv · $30 door CALL THE OFFICE Shock Stock Afterparty · 9pm · $10 · 19+

EASTSIDE BAR & GRILL Over the Eight · 9pm LONDON MUSIC CLUB Dau - The Best of Brazil featuring Rayo, Ramos & Garcia · 8pm · $10 NORMA JEAN'S Shuffleplay · $4 cover THE WORTLEY Autopilot · 10pm YUK YUK'S Kyle Radke · 8pm · $19.92 · 19+ 29 MAY SUNDAY AEOLIAN HALL London Concert Band: May Merriment · 1:30pm · $10 · $5 students · free for children under 10 30 MAY MONDAY BUDWEISER GARDENS Carrie Underwood · 6pm · $65 - 95 01 JUN WEDNESDAY BUDWEISER GARDENS Meat Loaf 7pm · $61.50 - 151.50 02 JUN THURSDAY BUDWEISER GARDENS Bud's Backstage Experience · 6pm · $135 LONDON MUSIC CLUB Roger Roger & Logan McKillop · 7:30pm · $10 door LONDON MUSIC HALL Mandroid Echostar Auras/ Native Construct/ Playing God/ Rise of Ares · 7pm · $10 03 JUN FRIDAY CALL THE OFFICE The Matadors 9pm · $10 · 19+ EASTSIDE BAR & GRILL Wild T & the

Spirit · 9pm LONDON MUSIC CLUB Doghouse Rose 8pm · $10 adv · $12 door LONDON MUSIC HALL Mob Barley & The Railers and the Human Rights/ Dirty Sol/ Spender Frost/ Atodaso · 8pm · $15 NORMA JEAN'S Motive Force · FREE THE WORTLEY Night Crew · 10pm YUK YUK'S Chuck Byrn · 8pm · $19.92 · 19+ 04 JUN SATURDAY EASTSIDE BAR & GRILL Tanya Marie Harris · 9pm LONDON MUSIC CLUB Ginge Single Release Party + special guests · 6:30pm · $8 / Don Alder · 7pm · $12 adv · $15 door / Cedar & Pine · 9pm · $6 NORMA JEAN'S Electric Popsicle · $4 THE WORTLEY In Side Out · 10pm YUK YUK'S Chuck Byrn · 8pm · $19.92 · 19+ 06 JUN MONDAY LONDON MUSIC HALL Jackass: Canada Tour · 7pm · $20 07 JUN TUESDAY CALL THE OFFICE The Pack AD/ Grey Lands · 8pm · $10 · 19+ 08 JUN WEDNESDAY AEOLIAN HALL Inspiring a Culture of Inclusion: An Evening with Dan Habib 6pm · $40

LONDON MUSIC CLUB Les Stroud (Survivorman) · $20 adv · $25 door

classical 28 MAY SATURDAY SALUT PRINTEMPS w/ el Sistema/ Junior Amabile Singers/ Amabile da Capo Choir · 6pm · $20 · Students: $15 · New St. James Presbyterian Church AMABI-LEAHY: A CELTIC CELEBRATION Amabile Boys & Men's Choirs W/ Leahy · 8pm · $20 · Students: $15 · Banting Secondary School Cinderella 10:30am, 1:30pm · $22.60 - 28.25 WOLF PERFORMANCE HALL 29 MAY SUNDAY BON VOYAGE: Amabile Youth Singers & Prima: Amabile Women's Choir · 2:30pm · $20 · Students: $15 · FirstSt. Andrew’s United Church 04 JUN SATURDAY GLORY HALLELUJAH! London Pro Musica With Special Guest Denise Pelley 7:30pm · $25 · Coldstream Community Centre, 10227 Ilderton Rd, Coldstream

t h e at r e ARTS PROJECT THE ADVENTURES OF THE FEARSOME PIRATE FRANK: THE MUSICAL Frank is the teenage heartthrob of every girl in Shakespearean England, even though he can’t remember his lines for the life of him! However, when Frank and his supporting cast, including prima donna Esmerelda, get kidnapped by real pirates during one of their productions, it’s good-bye stardom, hello servitude on a real pirate ship! 2pm & 7pm · $10 · $5 children 12 and under · May 26 - 28 BUDWEISER GARDENS CIRQUE DU SOLEIL: TORUK THE FIRST FLIGHT A world beyond imagination set thousands of years ago.

The word Toruk, in the Na’vi language, refers to the great leonopteryx, the mighty red and orange predator that rules the Pandoran sky. Central in Na’vi lore and culture, this fascinating creature is crucial to the Na’vi clans’ sense of destiny and interconnectedness – and is about to be ridden for the very first time by a Na’vi. Various times · $34 - 137 · Til May 29 GRAND THEATRE NATURE AND DANCE This is one of the most anticipated events of the year as Dance Steps students take centre stage to showcase their talents and skills. 2pm · $22 · $18 for 17 and under ORIGINAL KIDS THEATRE TARZAN Tarzan, the ape man, is raised by gorillas in the jungle. He meets Jane,

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a young English naturalist, and falls in love. 2pm & 7pm · $11-16 · May 26-29 PALACE THEATRE LOVE TRIANGLES Featuring six 10-minute plays written by members, detailing a different aspect of “Love Triangles.” 8pm · $5 donation required · Procunier Hall · May 27 PORT STANLEY FESTIVAL THEATRE WICHITA LINEMAN: THE MUSIC OF GLEN CAMPBELL From "Rhinestone Cowboy" to "Souther Nights" to "Gentle on My Mind", "Wichita Lineman" brings a non-stop parade of hits to the brandnew Port Stanley Festival stage Join us for the celebration! 2pm & 8pm, $32.50 - 35.50, Til Jun 4 / THE LADIES FOURSOME Take four ladies, 18 holes, a friendly wager, and watch the sparks fly! Margot, Tate, Connie and Dory spend a day on the links to pay homage to a departed friend. It sounds harmless enough, but fueled by competition, revelations, and recriminations, the outing becomes more than anyone bargained for. 2pm & 8pm · $32.50 35.50 · Jun 8 - Jul 2 STRATFORD FESTIVAL THEATRE A CHORUS LINE On stage, they move as one. But each member of that glittering line has a unique history of hope and heartbreak, revealed in the life stories they share in this inspiring musical masterpiece.

2pm · $25 - 139.05 · Til Oct 30 / SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE A young playwright named Will Shakespeare comes down with writer’s block – until he finds a muse. Art mirrors life in a

hilarious and passionate tale of romance and backstage fun. 2pm & 8pm · $20 - 97.34 · Til Oct 16 / MACBETH Surrender to a haunting story of ambition and its dark consequences, as a military hero and his wife conspire to seize the throne of Scotland. 2pm · 7:30pm · & 8pm · $20 - $139.05 · Til Oct 23 / AS YOU LIKE IT Romance goes undercover in this beloved comedy of surprises, disguises and crossdressing antics – and you get to play too. 2pm & 8pm · $12.50 - 74.93 · Til Oct 22 / A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC On a magical midsummer night, lovers old and new are swept up in a dizzying whirl of romance. 2pm & 8pm · $25 - 113.75 · Til Oct 23 / BREATH OF KINGS: REBELLION Lust for power leads to political turmoil in this fast-paced new distillation of Shakespeare’s epic histories of a nation and its rulers – their lives, their battles and their deaths. 2pm & 8pm · $35 - 100 · May 30 - Sept 24 / BREATH OF KINGS: REDEMPTION Can victory abroad resolve crisis at home? Henry IV and his charismatic son, Henry V, are the major players in this second of two new distillations of Shakespeare’s great dramas of kingship. 2pm & 8pm · $50 - 137.50 · May 31 - Sept 24 TILLSONBURG THEATRE KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING This musical relates some of the events of World War 1 as seen through the eyes of a Tillsonburg family whose son has gone off to war.

2pm & 8pm · $17 - 20 · May 26 - 29 & Jun 2 - 5

VICTORIA PLAYHOUSE PETROLIA A MIGHTY FORTRESS IS IN OUR BASEMENT The lovable church basement ladies return to take us back to the early 60’s for the best Church Basement Ladies yet. Whether you’ve seen them before or are brand new to their crazy basement antics, you’ll enjoy watching these ‘bulwarks never failing’ serve up their special brand of fun with great new songs and more lessons learned!

2pm & 8pm · $34 - 36

ga lle rie s & museums THE ART EMPORIUM The Art Emporium Artists Featured Artists for May: Jacqueline Kinsey, Debra Baker, Edser Thomas, Randy Bloye, Nathan Hiller, Debra Kubu.

Open 11-5 pm, Closed Tues, 177 Main St. Port Stanley AYLMER MUSEUM AYLMER REMEMBERS WW1 Learn about the people, their experiences, and their lives 100 years later. Til May 27 DNA ARTSPACE NEGATIVE RAKE by Patrick Cull. The show’s title, Negative Rake, a technical term borrowed from woodworking and machining, foregrounds the cutting processes used to create this work.

The woodcuts are engraved with chisels, and in turn the application of paint cuts out and delineates shapes.

Til Jun 4 ELDON HOUSE FAMILY PHOTOS: THE HARRISES AT HOME Western Archives holds a huge collection of historic photographs attributed to the Harris family who lived at Eldon House. This exhibit will allow visitors an intimate view of the family, their home and their gardens.

Throughout 2016 / THE LOST ART OF BOBBIN LACE Generations of women, such as those in the Harris family of Eldon House were “brought up to the pillow” creating intricate pieces of handmade lace that were soon replaced with machine-made products at the end of the Victorian era. As the first in a series on “women’s work”, this exhibit explores the rise and fall of an elaborate art form and illustrates the complicated process of creating bobbin lace. Til Jul Interpretive Centre / TEDDY: A MILITARY GENTLEMAN The exhibition is the second in a three-part series that explores the life of Edward Montgomery Harris. Beginning in 1900, after leaving school and joining the Commonwealth Armed Forces, this exhibition explores “Teddy’s” travels, through Britain, India and Canada and observes the life changes wrought by the loss of his mother and his marriage in the era leading up to the outbreak of World War I. Second Floor, Til Jul / THE FENIAN CONNECTION An illustration of how the “Fenian Raids” impacted those living in Upper Canada, through the diaries and letters of the Harris Family, while highlighting their own involvement in the defence of the empire. Til Sept FANSHAWE PIONEER VILLAGE Spend a day in the 19th century at Fanshawe Pioneer Village opening for the 57th season.

The past comes alive through daily demonstrations of trades, farming

practices, domestic chores and social pastimes by costumed interpreters. Our 16 feature events celebrate the unique history and rural roots of this region during the 2016 season. Now open FOREST CITY GALLERY ARCHAELOGICAL INFRASTRUCTURE / JEN AITKEN & ARYEN HOEKSTRA Unearths the apparitional architecture of an imagined city. To mould a cityscape into a mimetic image of its ruling class is an exhaustive venture, yet because of this expense it covers the odds of outliving its investors. Til Jun 3 FRINGE CUSTOM FRAMING AND GALLERY Inviting all artists to submit unique original artwork of all mediums to be rotated in the gallery for this 4 month summer showing period.

Artists may submit multiple pieces that will be available for this time period, or a portion of this time period. Apr to Jul LAMBETH GALLERY PENCIL CRAYONS...BREAKING BARRIERS AND MISCONCEPTIONS featuring Christine Johnson. Her work

shows her creativity and passion in her human portraits, endangered animal drawings, nature and spiritual works!

Til May 30 LUCAN AREA HERITAGE AND DONNELLY MUSEUM Open May - Oct, $5, Family (2 adults 2 children) $15, 171 Main St MCINTOSH GALLERY REPRESENTING WILDERNESS: COMMUNITY, COLLABORATION AND ARTISTIC PRACTICE featuring Michael Farnan. Exploring Canadian representational history and discourses surrounding colonialism, wilderness, nature and nationhood. Reception: Jun 3 at 7pm, Jun 3 - 25 MICHAEL GIBSON GALLERY THE CUMULATIVE EFFECT by Roly Fenwick. The sources of nature and inner spirit of the Canadian landscape. Til May 28 / ROY HEENAN’S CURNOE COLLECTION Rarely seen works by Greg Curnoe and also feature 3 paintings by Charles Gagnon, both from the collection of Mr.

Roy L. Heenan. Jun 2 - 25 MUSEUM OF ONTARIO ARCHAEOLOGY SOUTHWESTERN ONTARIO: 13 000 YEARS IN THE MAKING Explore what life would have been like 13 000 years ago in Southwestern Ontario. Take the journey from the end of the ice age all the way through to contact with the European settlers. Ongoing exhibition / DECOLONIZING FRAMES Questioning, critiquing, and celebrating indigenous representation, Til Aug 29 MUSEUM LONDON PLAY TIME This exhibition will take visitors back to another time and remind us about the messages toys communicate. Til Aug 7 / A RIPPLE EFFECT: CANADIANS AND FRESH WATER A Ripple Effect examines the larger story of Canadians’ relationship with fresh water by focusing on the Thames, Speed, and Eramosa rivers. To Aug 14 / CHRONOLOGUES Issues of memory and time, through personal narratives and larger, shared histories. Works in diverse media

re-visualize specific experiences or invite viewers to construct their own associations. Til Aug 21 / TOMORROW EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT By Akram Zaatari. Unearthing, collecting and re-contextualizing documents that represent his country’s complex history.

Til Sept 4 / REMEMBER WHEN An exhibition of souvenirs and mementos.

Til Sept 11 MUSEUM STRATHROY CARADOC CHARLOTTE RAPLEY The new Charlotte Rapley Gallery hosts a semi-permanant local history exhibition detailing the history of Strathroy-Caradoc and its communities.

Mon - Fri: 10am - 8:30pm · Sat: 10am - 4pm · Sun: Closed · free · suggested $2 donation for guided tours · 34 Frank Street, Strathroy PETER ROBSON STUDIOS Renowned artist Peter Robson and custom framing centre. In the historic village of Sparta. 7 days a week. 519-775-2522 robsonstudios@rogers.com peterrobsonstudios.com

ROYAL CANADIAN REGIMENT MUSEUM 701 Oxford St. E. Enter the base off Oxford at Elliot St. and turn right at the stop sign. Tues–Fri: 10am–4pm / Thurs to 8pm, Sat & Sun Noon–4pm, closed Mondays and statutory holidays.

Free admission & parking. 519-6605275 ext. 5102 ST THOMAS ART CENTRE COLOUR THEORY The blending of colours are a delight to the eye as your gaze moves from one artwork to the next. Colours have a language of their own, and just as humans have relationships with one another, the same is true for colours.

Til Jun 11 THIELSEN GALLERY REGIONAL HISTORIC EXHIBITION Featuring 28 watercolours by William St Thomas Smith. Til May 28 / REVOLVING GROUP EXHIBITION Featuring Tony Urquhart. Recent works on paper. Also included are works by Frank Caprani, Ron Milton, Toni Onley and Gordon Smith. Jun 2 - 29 WESTLAND GALLERY JAMIE JARDINE & SHANE NORRIE, Til May 28 / TIM STEVENS & PAT GIBSON May 31 - Jun 18 WOODSTOCK ART GALLERY LASTING IMPRESSIONS: HISTORICAL EUROPEAN PRINTS A strong overview of the practice and skill of printmaking over the last 200 years.

Til June / JOE LIMA AND WALTER REDINGER: UNLIMITED POSSIBILITIES Til Jul 2 / JOANNE VEGSON EXPLORATION WITH STILL LIFE Closing Reception: Jun 29, 5pm, Til Jul 2

special events EVERY MONDAY MONDAY NIGHT PINBALL Everyone is welcome at our weekly pinball tournament approved by the International Flipper Pinball Association. 8 - 11pm, No Cover, bring $ for pinball, Call the Office EVERY WEDNESDAY EUCHRE Prizes, Everyone Welcome, 1:15pm, 2755 Crumlin Rd. N. Royal Canadian Air Force Association FREEBALL Unlimited play on our wall of pinball machines and classic arcade vids. Guest DJs and drink specials each week too! $5, 9pm, 19+ Call the Office 26 MAY THURSDAY JEN AITKEN AND ARYEN HOEKSTRA ARTIST TALK An artist talk by collaborators Jen Aitken and Aryen Hoekstra, in conjunction with their exhibition Archaeological Infrastructure.

7 - 8:30pm · Forest City Gallery 27-29 MAY FRIDAY-SUNDAY SHOCK STOCK A full weekend of horror films, shorts, and events! Fri: 4 - 10pm Sat: 11am - 8pm · Sun: 11am - 5pm Single Day Pass: $25 · Weekend Pass: $60 #thereal Deluxe Pass: $80 · May 27-29 Lower Level · Centennial Hall 29 MAY SUNDAY EXHIBITION TOUR OF AKRAM ZAATARIL: ALL IS WELL This tour will highlight themes in Akram’s work, such as the challenge of archiving historical events during times of political upheaval. 1pm, free, Museum London 05.26.16

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S h o ck S t o c k

Ahead of Misfits Reunion, Doyle makes a pit stop at London’s Shock Stock

by Deanne Kondrat

W

here else can you see movies like Dick Shark and Killer Rack, see the actor of the original Jason Voorhees in his horror rock band and take part in a Q and A with punk/ metal legend, Doyle? Only at Shock Stock, Canada’s premiere Horror Convention, taking place in London, Ontario, May 27 to 29. Shock Stock is a weekend of film screening, celebrity guests, horror panels and a lot of

unhinged craziness.

The Yodeller had the opportunity to take a call with Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein ahead of his Shock Stock appearance. While he is known to horror fans as the legendary axe man from Walk Among Us and Earth A.D, many music fans are anxiously awaiting for him to hit the stage again and wail with his guitar.

While he indulged in a romantic Montreal getaway, we interrupted to talk about a little band called The Misfits reuniting, contouring tips and

being an unintentional horror icon.

You’re a hard man to nail down! Where are you calling from today?

Montreal. I’m here with my girl.

Oh nice, a little weekend getaway?

Something like that. (laughs)

I read in an interview recently that you don’t like your music to be referred to as ‘Horror Rock’ or ‘Horror Punk’. Why do you shy away from that title?

Yeah, because most of the bands that call themselves that, I’m just really not into. I just don’t think we sound like that.

You regularly attend horror movie conferences and a good chunk of that is the fan base for your music… Why step away from the horror rock title?

Those other bands just have a different sound.

And I don’t listen to them and I really don’t have an interest in sounding like them. I don’t know . . . we are a lot more metal than punk. I don’t really know what we are.

You’ve contributed to some horror film soundtracks….?

The Misfits did some songs for a George Romero Horror Movie once. (Bruiser) You’re coming to Shock Stock, you’ve been on a George Romero soundtrack – is it safe to call you a horror movie fan?

I don’t go nuts watching them . . . but I don’t really watch much of anything anymore.

Is it interesting for you, as someone who doesn’t watch them religiously, to go to these festivals and conferences?

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I’ve been going to these conferences since I was a kid. I was a huge fan of horror movies as a kid.

But the movies now, the slasher movies and all that . . . that’s just not scary.

Something that could really happen doesn’t get to me. I would rather be scared with a monster

and use my imagination.

Anyone can throw a mask on and grab a knife and start killing people. The scariest movie to me still is Nosferatu.

Oh yeah, that one is crazy.

It’s ridiculous how a black and white silent film can affect you in that way – but maybe that’s why it still does, because it is so different from what we see today with unsettling pauses and such.

For one of the first horror movies ever to be that scary — wow! He’s horrifying.

Speaking of scary . . .

What can fans expect from you at Shock Stock?

For me to verbally abuse them, probably.

I know there are a lot of people who will actually be looking forward to that.

(Laughs) Yeah, they seem to like that.

This may be a very different question for you, but man, you nailed the contouring of makeup before it was a trend. Any tips for us people wanting the ‘sunken in cheekbone’ look?

Practice. And I just shave my skull, so you could try that.

I know you’ve probably gotten this a thousand times already . . . are you allowed to talk about The Misfits reunion?

I doubt it.

Are you feeling pumped about it, can you answer that?

It should be fun.

Recently a little known artist called Drake was caught in a Misfits T-shirt . . . Is this a compliment to your music, that it’s reaching younger generations? Or does it feel like a rip-off?

There are a lot of people wearing Misfits shirts and don’t know who The Misfits are.

People see that goofy skull and just want to wear it or use it in their own merchandise as well.

I’m just so used to seeing it! To me it’s normal.

So when people like Drake or Taylor Swift are wearing Misfits shirts, do you think it’s bringing awareness of your music to younger generations?

Our demographic is like 5 to 65.

But maybe.

You guys have become one of those bands that is passed down from generation to generation.

Our songs have become, what’s the word I’m looking for . . ?

Timeless. And it’s just good fun, man.

How does it feel to be amping up to play these songs live again?

I did if for nine years with (Glenn) Danzig (Misfits’ vocalist). I would come out and do 10 or 12 songs with him. And the look on the people’s faces is … it’s not a show where people are just going nuts and getting into it. They are just so happy.

The looks on their faces is just ridiculous. And it’s just really cool. And it’s different.

Get ready for something different with Doyle’s Q&A, Saturday May 28th at Shock Stock.

Aside from getting verbally abused, hear stories of the glory days, what he’s been through and learn what the future holds.

And be sure to stick around for Sunday’s ‘Crystal Shocker’ awards!

Weekend passes start at only $45 and are available at shock-stock.com.

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ThRee DAYs oF gReAsY ThRIlls In DownTown lonDon onTARIo FRIDAY MAY 27th 2016 3:00pm AdvAnce Weekend & deluxe PAss Holders Admitted 4:00pm doors oPen 4:15pm scrAWl (1 hr 21 min) DIR Peter Hearn, UK - CANADIAN PREMIERE! » Simon Goodman (Liam Hughes) is a 16-year boy living in a rundown seaside town. With his best friend Joe Harper (Joe Daly), they create a comic book called SCRAWL as a way to escape their reality, gain some notoriety and more importantly – pick up girls. Annie Williams (Annabelle Le Gresley), a girl who hides behind her camera and cannot forget the past gets wrapped up in the boys new world, along with Joe’s sister Rosie (Ellie Selwood) and suddenly, with the appearance of a mysterious girl, Hannah (Daisy Ridley from The Force Awakens), events in the comic book start to invade their reality and situations in the comic book come to life. At first it’s great, girls start to become interested in the boys, and all seems fun, but then the monsters of the comic book begin to show themselves, and the boys realize that the comic depicts a bloody great massacre at page 21. With the help of Joe’s father, Frank (Mark Forester-Evans), family and friends, the boys are forced to face their horrific imagination made real. Are Simon and Joe able to change their new found reality?

Only if they can rewrite death.

5:45pm PAnel: Bilo’s tAPe tAlk with DANNY HICKS, A MICHAEL BALDWIN & KEVIN VANHENTENRYCK » James from Vagrancy Films talks VHS with stars from some of the most iconic (and well sold) home video cassettes of all time. From popping' the cookies to white van distributors, the glory days of magnetic tape will be discussed, and we get to chat about the dead mediums resurgence in the collector market today.

7:00pm killer rAck (1 hr 40 min) DIR Gregory Lamberson, USA DIRECTOR, CREW & CAST IN ATTENDANCE! » Screwball horror comedy about a woman (Jessica Zwolak) suffering from low esteem who gets breast enhancement surgery from Dr. Cate Thulu (Debbie Rochon).

Her new assets turn out to be man-eating monsters, and only she can stop them. Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Thurber are in the cast, and Brooke Lewis is the Voice of the Boobs. Directed by author Gregory Lamberson, creator of the cult classic SLIME CITY. 9:00pm sHort Film Block #1 » The always popular SHORT SHOCKS has been a highlight of every film freaks weekend. First On the block is a mixed bag of every flavour from GREASE to GORE. Viewer Discretion Is Advised! mAdre de dios (motHer oF God) (7 min) DIR Gigi Saul Guerrero, Canada » A woman wakes up bound to an altar, helpless as she is transformed into a flesh and blood statue of Santa Muerte by two elderly Brujos whose sole purpose is to conjure the anti-Christ into our plane of existence. lAB rAts (15 min) DIR David Wayman, UK » Kat and her eco-warrior friends embark on a mission to expose bio-chemistry company RingAmnion as liars, following a tip-off that they ran an animal testing lab. Despite their public profile claiming otherwise; it soon becomes clear that Ring-Amnion are willing to test on more than just animals. reticulAr rAGe (10 min) DIR David Brudie, USA » A woman's mind tee-

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SHOCK

ters on the edge of deadly insanity and utter despair, as we are drawn into her bleak emotions, horrific delusions, and ultimate fate. don't screAm (2 min) DIR Kalen Artinian, Canada » Two teen girls find a body in the woods. suFFer tHe little cHildren (25 min) DIR Corey Norman, USA » Based on the short story by Stephen King. The short follows the decline of an aging teacher, Ms. Sidley (Anne Bobby), who believes her students are being taken over by something evil. out oF my skin (3 min) DIR Nadine L'Esperance, Canada » This new micro-short by underground horror filmmaker Nadine L'Esperance sees a young mother going to horrifying (and darkly humorous) extremes in her quest for a little leisure time before her screaming kids and deadbeat husband literally make her crawl out of her skin. dArk And stormy niGHt (3 min) DIR Jared Carney, Canada » On a dark and stormy night, four friends tell scary stories in an secluded cabin while drinking beer. Inspired by the beer "Dark and Stormy Night" by Picaroons Traditional Ale once uPon A Blood moon (4 min) DIR Robert C. Eaton, Canada » Jessica returns home from class, only to discover that her one-night stand, Valyrie, is still in her apartment. Jessica tries to kick Valyrie out before her parents’ arrival, but Valyrie won’t leave. She has feelings for Jessica and moreover she is a vampire.

10:00pm convention sHoW Floor closes 11:00pm FrAnkenstein creAted Bikers GAlA screeninG & HAll oF FAme inductions » Separate Ticket Off Site Event - Hyland Cinema 240 Wharncliffe Rd S To kick off the Gala Screening, the scumbags have decided that after five years of filth, its time to give some recognition to the people who have made Canada’s Premiere Horror and Underground Weekend the best in the world! Inducted into the Shock Stock Hall of Fame each year will be one Celebrity, one Independent, and one Community member. This year’s inductees are DYANNE THORNE and HOWARD MAURER, BILL ZEBUB, and SARAH DOUCETTE. A short Ceremony will take place, and the inductees honoured by fans. After the induction, get ready to get CREASY AND GREASY with the CANADIAN PREMIERE of FRANKENSTEIN CREATED BIKERS! FrAnkenstein creAted Bikers (2 hr 5 min) DIR James Anthony Bickert, Atlanta, Georgia, USA - DIRECTOR, CREW, AND CAST IN ATTENDANCE! » A resurrected outlaw biker finds himself addicted to the substance that brought him back from the grave. In order to get his daily fix, his gang is forced to do the bidding of two sadistic scientists attempting to capture a biological mutation and perform a human head transplant on kidnapped teenagers. When his disgruntled ex-girlfriend is released from prison, she embarks on an explosive manhunt for her former lover and his strung-out pack of degenerates. With three dysfunctional bounty hunters, a rival motorcycle gang and an army of machine-gun toting strippers, it becomes a race against law-enforcement for bragging rights to the gang leader's demise.

sATURDAY MAY 28th 2016

11:00am doors oPen 11:30am PAnel: mink stole HANGING OUT WITH MY KIND Of PEOPLE Mink Stole may have some choice words when the cameras rolling, but at Shock Stock she's as nice as pie! Come hear stories and memories shared from over 40 years of being on the fringe, working with the legendary Dreamlanders and their maestro John Waters, and more!

12:30pm 69 Hour Film comPetition comPetitive sHorts The 3 (thats THREE) teams that were brave enough to put together a group and shoot shoot shoot - and edit - a sick short film over a 69 hour period get their opportunity to screen them in front of the wild men and wild wild women of Shock Stock. Who will win the coveted CRYSTAL SHOCKER award and the cash prize? The three films will remain a mystery until y'all sit your asses down. Just come in and have a good time.

1:00pm niGHt oF tHe c***s 2 : violence oF tHe clAms (16 min) DIR B10, Canada - WORLD PREMIERE SHORT! » Evil vagina aliens are back, after being chased off the planet, but this time send down giant monsters to do their dirty work. The sequel to the bizarre animated short from a couple Shock Stocks ago about hoohahs and absurdity.

What a world we live in where this kinda filth gets exposure! Viva Shock Stock!

1:15pm yeti: A love story 2: liFe on tHe streets (1 hr 16 min) DIR Adam Deyoe & Eric Gosselin, USA - CANADIAN PREMIERE! » Adam, a single father of a yeti baby, is dragged into the seedy underbelly of Los Angeles when his child is kidnapped by an Evil Pimp. Now, with the help of his two new friends, a heroin addicted yeti prostitute and a sexy stripper, he must fight the forces of evil to save his baby and the world.

2:40 pm PAnel: doyle Q&A » Come in and listen as we hear stories of the glory days with one of the originators of horror punk! Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein has been through the flames and knows what the future holds! Do you dare to listen to what will become?

3:40 pm Heir (13 min) DIR Richard Powell, Canada » After connecting with a stranger of similar interests online, family man Gordon and his young son Paul embark on an ill fated road trip in which Gordon aims to indulge in a secret passion. Before the day ends a horrible truth will be uncovered and a harsh lesson will be learned...

3:55 pm GettinG scHooled (1 hr 23 min) DIR Chuck Norfolk, USA CANADIAN PREMIERE! » In 1983, a group of High School students in a day of detention must run for their lives when a teacher in a wheel chair turns out to be an ex black ops soldier having a murderous flashback.

5:25 pm Peelers (1 hr 35 min) DIR Sevé Schelenz, Canada - CANADIAN PREMIERE! LEAD FX ARTIST IN ATTENDANCE! » A small town strip club owner must defend her bar, her strippers and her life when violent infected patrons show up on the final closing night.

STOCK 7:00pm DICKSHARK (2 hr) DIR Bill Zebub, USA - CANADIAN PREMIERE! DIRECTOR IN ATTENDANCE » A romantic couple get more than they expected after the husband's experiments with penis enlargement cream go awry. Wait, this is not a porn story. Rather, it is an absurd science-fiction movie that features a curious new species, the Dickshark. In some ways this story asks the same questions that Mary Shelly did when she wrote "Frankenstein." Bill Zebub returns with one of his most outrageous and intellectually stimulating films to date! Gunnar Hansen once called Bill the Woody Allen of B-Movies, and this film is a prime example why! Reactions will be recorded.

9:00pm CONVENTION FLOOR CLOSES 9:00pm SHOCK STOCK ALL STAR SATURDAY NITE SOIREÉ presented by Mill St. » Separate Ticket – Off Site Event CAll ThE OffICE 216 YORk ST. Witness in horror as the guests themsleves take the stage to scare your Belial right outta your basket! A creasy greasy nite full of scumbag insanity guaranteed to put the groove in your gorilla. Featuring: FIRST JASON w Ari Lehman BOB SCARES BOB (Formerly the Public Hairs) SPROCKET DAMAGE (Scumbag houseband) KEVIN VAN HENTENRYCK (Basket Case) MAURZIO GUARINI (Goblin God of the Keys) CHRIS ALEXANDER w David Bertrand playing MUSIC FOR MURDER Live!

ANTHONY DP MANN (Composer, Director, Actor) SPUD (OG from Dayglo Abortions) SWEET PEPPER KLOPEK (Legendary Klopeks) SURPRISES…PRIZES and your host…WALLY WARWICK Pinball Machines….Booze…Blood...Excitment…and gallons and gallons of ice cold Mill Street. Shock Stock is not responsible if your wallet get’s pick pocketed by a loose woman. $15 to get in or FREE if you have #THEREAL Weekend Pass

SUnDaY maY 29th 2016 11:00am DOORS OPEN 11:30am GLIMPSE AWESOME (8 min) DIR John Nicol, Canada WORlD PREMIERE ShORT! » An experimental horror short exploring the damaged mind of a cinephile and the madness he succumbs to...

11:40am SECRET SANTA (1 hr 18 min) DIR Mikey McMurran, Canada DIRECTOR AND CAST IN ATTENDANCE! » Secret Santa is a feature length film that tells the story of a group of eccentric college kids, struggling to get through the hectic exam period. This Horror/Comedy is a tribute to B-Movie Slashers but also takes the conventions and turns them upside down. A liquor filled party is planned. Adding a Secret Santa exchange for fun. Little do our characters know… A killer is in town and has a special present for all the good (and bad) girls and boys. Dare to open your present? It might be your last!

ScreeningS Take place in The BaSemenT of cenTennial hall TickeTS eTc: Shock-STock.com

1:00 pm PANEL: KENNY VS. SPENNY VS. KLEIO » The hilarious Kenny Hotz takes on the hot n sexy Kleio Valentien in what promises to be the absolute CRAZIEST panel of the weekend.... throw in some other wild men (probably Duker and Hawn) and rumour has it the party may be crashed by Spencer Rice (AKA Spenny) so this wild card deal is gonna make sure Sunday is CREASY AND GREASY!

2:00pm SHORT FILM BLOCK #2 » The Sunday SHORT SHOCKS is like double overtime; you freaks want more and you got it! Another set of the best horror shorts in the world. Viewer Discretion Is Always Advised!

THE WET NURSE & HER DIABOLICAL CONCERNS (9 min) DIR Marc Blackie, UK » Preferring to excuse and distract herself rather than confronting her own demons, an Icelandic woman seeks escapism with a surreal aquatic twist when she sets her heart upon a series of waterbound sexual playmates. When her advances and are ultimately rejected, the scorned protagonist enacts a last brutal act of defiance.

INTO THE MUD (10 min) DIR Pablo Pastor, Spain » A young woman wakes up naked in the middle of the woods. After the initial confusion and after verifying that she's hurt, she discovers a fisherman and hunter who will not easily let his new prey escape. Let the hunt begin.

DEATHBOX (8 min) DIR Michael Pereira, USA » A lonely, conflicted hobo lives an existence defined by a dark, insatiable need. On this day, he crosses paths with a mysterious man who's also defined by an allconsuming, singular drive.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUZIE (2 min) DIR Darren Hutchings, Canada » A 12 year old's Birthday Party goes horribly, horribly wrong.

FACE VALUE (5 min) DIR Derek Lukosius, Canada » When 9 year old James looses his first baby tooth, he devises a plan to exploit the tooth fairy, but with twisted repercussions.

SPIKED (6 min) DIR Eric Orlowski, Canada » Sean and Andrew have never met each other before, up until now. They wake up in a dingy and creepy basement, chained at the neck, which goes through a spiked wall. Who set them up and why? Only one of them is leaving here alive.

HOW WILL I DIE (5 min) DIR Raymond Dullum, Norway » A couple is having a pleasant evening at home, they decide to take an internet quiz called: How Will I Die! And the results takes them by surprise.

DEVIL (2 min) DIR Martin Sonntag, Denmark » Rodger Codger had it all; success, money and women. He was a famous award winning film director but his scandalous lifestyle living in the fastlane took it all away. Now Codger, bankrupt and addicted to drugs, will attempt to sell his soul to the Devil to get it all back - but will the Devil accept his offer?

THE FIX (6 min) DIR Sebastien Godin, Canada » Lee is a vampire who is sick of being a vampire. Their bloodlust has driven away all they've ever loved. Can a monster stop being a monster? Or is the path to redemption more gruesome than they can handle?

3:00pm THE CRYSTAL SHOCKER AWARDS » Hosted reluctantly by the Monsters of Schlock, the show wraps with the recognition of the cream of the cream dreams, the best of the beasts, the kings of the kink, and the top of the floppers; as decided by our selection committee. Awards to be won: THE GRAND GORILLA (Best Feature) THE CHIMP CHAMP (Best Short) THE EASTMAN (Breakthrough Male Performance) THE GEMSER (Breakthrough Female Performance) THE JESUS FRANCO (Best Director) WIZARD OF WORDS AWARD (Best Screenplay) SUPER SHOOTER AWARD (Best Cinematography) THE CHUNK BLOWER (Best SFX / Makeup) THE HOT SOAKER AWARD (Sexiest Scene) 69 HOUR FIRST PLACE TEAM AWARD THE WOWIE F***IN KAZOWIE AWARD (Most Insane / WTF) THE LUNGZILLA AWARD (for Horror Community Support) This is going to be a special event which we hope that horror fans and filmmakers alike can embrace. We sincerely hope that with the inclusion of these awards annually that we can help to grow, nurture, and encourage the next generation of Horror fans! Thank you all!

4:30 pm TERROR TOONS 3 (1 hr 11 min) DIR Joe Castro, USA CANADIAN PREMIERE! » Picking up exactly where the original left off... This 3rd installment tells the tale of Cindy (Beverly Lynne, The Girl From B.I.K.I.N.I., Tanya X, Black Tie Nights) and her little sister, Candy (Lizzy Borden) fighting the good fight with the help of their friends, (Fernando Padilla, Kerry Liu, and Fernando Gasca) against evil Dr. Carnage and his abominable sidekick, Max Assassin. Enter the darken, kaleidoscope colored world of the cartoon dimension where anything is possible. Where everyone is subject to a blood splattered crazy cartoon death. The one, the only GODFATHER OF GORE: Herschell Gordon Lewis (1963 BLOODFEAST, 2000 MANIACS) stars in this truly original cult masterpiece. Herschell narrates the classic tale of the three little pigs and little red riding hood as written by the wild and unpredictable Director, Joe Castro (TERROR TOONS 1 & 2, THE JACKHAMMER MASSACRE, & THE SUMMER OF MASSACRE) Special appearances by Brinke Stevens (Teenage Exorcist, Scream Queen Hot Tub Party), Schroeder (Cult Movies Magazine), Robert Rhine (Girls and Corpses Magazine) and Mike Mendez (Big Ass Spider!, Tales of Halloween). Not for the weak at heart or those with a sensitive stomach. TERROR TOONS 3 is a shocking, gore filled blood epic.

5:00 pm CONVENTION FLOOR CLOSES

UNTIL NEXT TIME! SEE YOU REEEAL SOON! 05.26.16 www.londonyodeller.ca 39 05.26.16 www.londonyodeller.ca 39