LITMIR.BIZ

      Dedication

      Gracias, Corazón

      Epigraph

      Without music, life would be a mistake.

      — Friedrich Nietzsche

      Contents

      Foreword by Jim Cuddy

      Introduction

      1 The Outsider

      2 Nashville North

      3 Tom’s Stompin’ Grounds

      4 The Garys Shake Things Up

      5 The Show Hank Williams Never Gave

      6 The ’Shoe Rises Again

      7 Rockabilly and a Roots Rock Revival

      8 The Early Nineties

      9 Secret Shows

      10 Tales from the Bar

      11 Ushering In a New Era

      Conclusion: The Next Seventy Years Are Anyone’s Guess

      Acknowledgements

      Sources

      Image Credits

      About the Author

      Foreword

      To understand the significance of the Horseshoe Tavern, one needs to delve into the personal archives of so many Torontonians and visitors to the city to hear the stories of “first time ever” or “best concert” or “mind-blowing after-hours event.” The stories are legion. They represent some of the best reflections on the history of the city.

      First-ever story: We waited for the Horseshoe to open in order to secure a front-row table to see the legendary pseudo-cowboy Jerry Jeff Walker. I believe we got in and grabbed a table shortly after noon — maybe an apocryphal time, but that is how these stories go. We stayed all day until showtime. The stage was low and, at that time, on the west wall. We were well oiled by the time Jerry Jeff took the stage. He was obviously pleased to see a sold-out house and started in with commitment. A number of songs in, with his long arms swinging, he whacked his guitar on the low-hung ceiling. He cursed and thrust his guitar head angrily into the maze of wires and pipes in the ceiling, thereby rendering the guitar unusable. Frankly, it was our real-life Pete Townsend moment. We could not have been more thrilled and hooted our approvals, to which he gave a sheepish grin.

      The story of the Horseshoe Tavern is to a certain degree the history of how Toronto grew up. It starts as a refuge for East Coasters who have come to the city for work and are missing the music and dancing of the homes they have left behind. Count Bazil Donovan, Blue Rodeo bass player, as the son of one of those couples. His parents would venture down to the Horseshoe for some country music and dancing, and to rub shoulders with other East Coasters.

      As the city grew and the music scene matured, the Horseshoe stayed true to its friendly roots. By the time our band, Blue Rodeo, was looking to get its first gig in the city, the Horseshoe was the mythical master. I can still remember going down the dark steps to present our cassette to X-Ray MacRae, the rockabilly motorcycle-man music programmer. It was a long and nerve-wracking walk, and as friendly as X-Ray was he had a stack of other cassettes on his desk a foot high. It was not going to be automatic, that was for sure.

      So we played a few other places before we got the call. But when we did, it was as exciting as anything that has happened since. Some places just have an aura that makes them more special than the rest, and that says it all about the Horseshoe Tavern. We had grown up in the city hearing about shows at the ’Shoe, and had attended a few, but never thought we would have this opportunity.

      How many others have felt the same? Countless, I imagine. The book you are about to read tells the tale of so many decades of entertainers, barflies, doormen, soundmen, scoundrels, poets and can’t-miss-but-somehow-did musicians.

      The Horseshoe we came to know as a band had some historic nights. Each night the room was full of patrons dressed in neo-cowboy gear, continuing the long tradition of dancing to every song. There were solid, colourful characters — Handsome Ned, Keith Demic, Teddy Fury — all outliers in a supportive creative scene. There were quick-draw contests when Ned played and famous actors and musicians coming to check out a band, and one famous night after the regular closing, the guitarist from Dire Straits, Jack Sonni, whom we knew from New York, where he worked in a guitar store, asked if we could set up a jam. That jam drew all the musicians in town and lasted till six in the morning. Once again, the friendly confines of the ’Shoe had added another entry to Toronto’s logbook.

      There

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