Shortly after Sandra died we returned to Winnipeg where my Brother Reg was born.We moved into my Grandfather’s house, which was on Bonner Avenue in North Kildonan.
And Mr. Businessman wanted that money, so he called us Teenagers.
Hell, he even started making movies about us that featured that strange new music our parents hated called Rock & Roll.
However, this time it was coming out of the radio. Wow!
One two, three o’clock
four o’clock rock.
Five six seven o’clock
eight o’clock rock
Hearing “Rock Around The Clock” coming out of the radio that day changed everything. Before long, you started hearing groups like the Crew Cuts, the 4 Lads, and the Diamonds, but as good as it was, it didn’t take long to figure out that it was just watered-down versions of a bigger and badder sound yet to come.
However, when my folks bought their own house in Transcona, not only did I leave North Kildonan behind, but I also left that shy, quiet fourteen-year-old behind too. (Me pictured on top in North Kildonan)
During my first Transcona summer, I helped my Dad build a garage, a bedroom in the basement, a driveway, sidewalks, and a fence, plus we also sodded the front and backyard.
Don’t bring the police to the front door, don’t tarnish the family name, and stay away from the “bad girls.”
Also, according to my Father, crime began at midnight, so to keep me away from any temptation, he imposed a midnight curfew on me.
The only break I ever got was when he was sick, and looking back, I’m sure he must have suffered from depression.
On those sick days, I would wander over to the nearby park where, still being a baseball freak, I was hoping to meet someone who would play a little ball with me.
I remember thinking, “Why would anyone want to play the accordion?” True to his word, though, he was back in no time, and while we were tossing the ball around, I had no idea that he was about to change my life.
That sure didn’t sound like fun to me because the only dances I was aware of were polkas and maybe square dancing. However, since he was kind enough to play ball with me, I agreed to go.
.
Later that evening, when we arrived at the East End Community Club, the Canadian summer sun was still high in the sky, so when the door closed behind us, we were blinded.
As we inched along the corridor towards the dimly lit entrance ahead, we must have looked like a couple of blind guys in desperate need of a white cane and a seeing-eye dog.
However, now, I no longer cared about seeing; all I cared about was the thunderous sound blasting out of four giant speakers hanging on the wall, and the raw sexuality pouring out of them and into my soul made it very difficult to breathe.
I was hearing the likes of Jimmy Reed, Fats Domino, Big Joe Turner, Little Richard, Tiny Bradshaw, Little Willie John, Muddy Waters, and Wynonie Harris, just to name a few.