Farewell, Frank

Frank Stanley, a long time club volunteer, passed away on September 2, 2009. Frank, in many ways, was the club mascot known and loved by all. Frank was 72, but as John Martland mentioned from the stage on Friday night, he probably had celebrated 154 birthdays over his lifetime. Frank not only volunteered at the club but scores of other places as well. It seems all of them wanted to throw parties for him.

As Mansel Davies said to the crowd last night, “Frank had an ability to bring us all together.” According to John Martland, this was especially true at his funeral, where members of all the volunteer organizations Frank belonged to met for the first time and started to trade similar stories of their beloved Frank. “He is still bringing us together,” Martland said.

Frank will be missed greatly and remembered fondly at our club where he was a permanent fixture and welcome reminder that the CFC is made possible only through the work of committed and dedicated volunteers.

A Mighty Fine Opener

Rollicking choruses, sprightly fiddle tunes, soulful ballads, raucous repartee, and a rolling wave of voices unchained. Others may have their Woodstock revivals but the Calgary Folk Club’s 38th opener was a warm, fuzzy, nostalgic love-in. The iconic Wild Colonials had returned to give a proper warm-up to the even more iconic (some would say titanic) Eric Bogle.

The Wild Colonials were accompanied by the young‘uns, Rod, Scott, and Graham, the future torch bearers and link to the wonderful years when loyal fans came to relieve their work-week stress by lifting their voices and downing a pint. The sextet were in good form. Mansel of sputtered indignation, John of ribald riposte, and Gordie of Crocodile Black schtick played their usual roles. Perhaps they even had practised as concentration carved the Wild’s faces as they matched musical licks with the energetic playing of the younger trio. The Wild Colonials always had an awareness of their role as an opener, a stage setter, a warm-up. This night was no exception. Their last number, “Leave Her Johnny, Leave Her” was not only a poignant tribute to Johnny Worrall but a reminder that like elves in the Ring Trilogy seeking their Grey Haven, the elfish Eric Bogle is leaving, if not Middle Earth, at least tours in the Northern Hemisphere. “Leave her Johnny” was particularly prescient as Eric Bogle’s last number, “Safe in the Harbour,” was a tribute to Stan Rogers and a re-echo of the theme of retirement. As well as establishing the theme, the opening set gave the crowd the catharsis it yearned for as the Wild Colonials lead chorus after chorus of the old sing-alongs.

Those choruses properly prepped and settled the audience. Eric Bogle is, after all, a songsmith. He takes his observations and experiences and weaves a lyrical web of words. Words need listeners, and listen the club did. A reverent stillness fell. The hush was so heavy that we could have been in a cathedral or redwood forest. Fortunately over the years, Eric Bogle has become not just a singer-songwriter but a masterful entertainer. His stories are so funny that a sine curve of attention was created – laughter, hush, laughter, hush. One of Eric’s stories was about annoying requests during his early years to sing Bob Dylan. Sing him he did, much to the delight of the audience.

Bogle’s sideman was the equally talented John Munro on guitar and mandolin. John also writes and did perform one of his songs, “The Glory Days,” a comment that retired life is not just aches and pains but a time of reaped rewards.

Towards the closing of his show, Eric Bogle commented the best way to experience music is a live performance. Of course he is right, but I did purchase one of his 14 CDs. Thanks for the evening and the memory. Good-bye, old friends.