STEPHEN RICHARDS | Special to MuskokaTODAY.com FICTION

Continued from Episode 4

Marley’s apartment in “The Grave”  –  2012

Bart is seated in a burgundy jacquard-print wing chair. Marley is on a bench playing ‘Moonglow’ on the c.1900 Carl Bechstein grand piano. Desmond, Bart’s Maine Coon cat, is curled up on an ottoman.

Bart asks Marley about the Bechstein and so she explains…

“C. Bechstein Grand Piano, Model I, serial number 54200 is the finest specimen made before the passing of Carl Bechstein. It was a special order for Sir Edgar Speyer, chairman of the British Classical Music Society. He was close friends of Edward Elgar, Richard Strauss and Claude Debussy.  The piano remained at Edgar’s residence in England until 1915 when he was forced to leave due to changing German sentiments and was unwilling to liquidate his German holdings. He returned to the U.S. with his piano but forfeited his title.  Edgar passed in 1932, his estate was auctioned off, and the piano ended up at the Jacobs Hotel in Huntsville, Ontario, where it remained until 2009.

“Jacobs Hotel was erected in 1875 by James W. Jacobs, who died in 1890 and ownership was transferred to his heirs.  After sustaining some damage from the Main Street fire of 1894, it was renovated, porches were removed, three storeys were added, as well as an addition to provide street-level storefronts. The four-storey, 52-room hotel — with JT Tavern in the basement, a barber, jeweler, and shoe shop on street level — was renamed Dominion Hotel. It is rumored Duke Ellington, Oscar Peterson and Fats Waller played there on the Bechstein.

“The hotel was a pretty posh and happening place in its day, with an Art Deco décor, huge crystal chandeliers, two-inch thick carpets, plenty of walnut and brass. Doormen dressed up in fancy red tunics, epaulettes, gold braid splendooned with fake medals. It was known for its smorgasbord of all sorts of tasty vittles.  But it didn’t last.

“After years of neglect, the hotel became dark, dingy and mouldy, smelling like a small un-vented cave after frequent hibernation cycles of a family of grizzlies on a fish diet.

“David Keay acquired the building with a goal to fix it up one apartment at a time over four years, to provide affordable housing for some local musicians and the homeless though not mutually exclusive.  Suspected arson Oct. 8, 2009 destroyed the building, effectively killing his plans for affordable housing.  David was heartbroken and died shortly after.

“Fortunately, some of the residents stormed the burning building, saved the piano and other instruments from the fire.  The piano was sold to the landlord of Marley’s apartment where it currently resides.”

Bart and Marley resume chatting about the success of their last concert and what could follow.

Suddenly, a framed photo on the mantle topples over.  Bart rises, walks over to gaze at an old photo of a concert band posed at a bandstand.

Desmond had knocked it over just as Uncle Paul materializes seated next to Marley on the piano bench.  Paul smiles at Bart, gets up from his familiar cross-legged pose, mimes putting on a jacket, then passes through the door.

Bart picks up the photo, righting it, then swivels his eyes to Marley: “Let’s go check it out.  To Huntsville?” he asks.

Marley grabs the keys to her 1976 Pinto and says “Yeah, I know … Due North.”

Susan Street Bandstand, Huntsville

The bandstand is being converted into a house.

“Drats!  We are too late.  This just won’t do,” exclaims Bart, as Marley nods her agreement.

Paul materializes several feet away appearing to make a phone call.  Bart excuses himself and steps towards Paul while pulling out his cellphone and pretending to make a call.

Desmond runs over to the bandstand and picks up a 16-ounce Etwell blue-gripped hammer.  Being handy and polydactyl, the cat has great dexterity and pounds some protruding nails to a shuffle beat.

With an eye on Desmond, Paul proclaims: “The music is too square, too militaristic – all marches.  Captain Clarke Hébert was coaxed to come up and play, with some ringers. George Simmons lost his appointment and had to conduct elsewhere, Bracebridge, I think.  Sure it brought the quality of the Huntsville band up; but it had consequences to the community when Captain Hebert and company eventually left.

“Let’s take a walk.”

Marley: “Who called?”  Bart: “Umm … E-Claire. And he suggested a few things for me to check out.”

Marley rolls her eyes and says she has a few errands to run then makes plans to meet up later at an agreed upon place.  She walks south on West Street, then east on Main.  There is a vintage clothing shop featuring zoot suits, satin puffy-sleeved body-hugging long dresses, spats, canes, fedoras and veiled hats and gloves.

“Cool.”

Just past it, is a Rotary sign with a broom.

“There must be a story …,” Marley says to herself as she follows the alleyway past the Mill on Main to River Mill Park. In the middle, fenced off is another Rotary project; this one still under construction.  She passes On the Dock Pub, crosses the swing bridge heading due north on John Street before stopping at the destination with a large fox painted on it.

“Wow!  A lot of pubs with blank entertainment signs,” she exclaims entering the building and taking a seat.

Meanwhile, Paul guides Bart across the street of Centre and Main and whispers: “Can you hear that?  That was Bugs Douglas, Ivory Phillips, Doc Vaughan and Stix Barbera playing Glenn Miller’s 1944 arrangement of ‘That Old Black Magic. They used to have a gig at Tall Trees down that way.

In front of them is an empty lot, formerly the site of the Dominion Hotel, that somehow materializes lit up and appearing in its glory with art deco touches, a snazzily-dressed door man, and a marquis sign flashing past acts across the screen.

Then seemingly the hotel goes up in flames. There are images of a man rescuing some gear. Suddenly the building collapses: you can see and smell the acrid smoke and feel the residual heat. There is a ginger-haired man in tatters with a sleeping bag and hat at his feet in the doorway.  He’s “Raggedy Andy,” playing on a 1971 Grit Laskin serial #1007 acoustic cut-away guitar, originally owned by Joni Mitchell.

And singing a tune by Don McLean …

“No angel born in hell

Could break that Satan’s spell

And as the flames climbed high into the night

To light the sacrificial rite

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died”

The scene vanishes. All that remains are a For Sale sign on the empty lot, scattered rags and assorted detritus.

Paul: “After the hotel went up in flames, the musicians had nowhere to live and the music literally went away with them.”

They continue down to the Town Hall and Algonquin Theatre.

‘The Duke’ (Ellington) is at the garishly-painted upright piano playing a Fats Waller tune — ’Ain’t Misbehavin’ — and transitioning to ‘Stormy Weather.’

Then Shania Lawrence sings ‘Love of My Life.’

Past the Huntsville BrewHouse to Kent Park they go.  Paul points out the children having ‘Tasty Cream’ soft ice cream on the white four-seated glider swing.

The bridge, which has been fixed in place since the last repair, appears and swings out to the side to make way for a steamboat to travel up the Vernon narrows.  On it, Paul is conducting, Satchmo and the Sandsmen are playing ‘Up a Lazy River.’

Bart crosses the bridge, arriving at Canvas Brewing and enters. The lights dim.  There is 400 square-foot old-growth white pine hardwood dance floor, a battered mahogany bar, 10 worn stools and a jukebox flickering Neon tube lights.

The four sub-Tenors — a bari sax quartet consisting of Alfred ‘Crowbar’ Jones, Barry G. Hart, Billy-Bob St. Çyr and Paul “Rimmer” Rimstead are playing ‘A String of Pearls.’  The lights brighten, the players vaporize and the brewpub returns to the present.

Behind the bar are the Canvas Brewing co-founders Steven and Jeffrey, manning the 20 taps in this recently-decorated 14,000 square-foot brewery and entertainment facility.  Bart takes a seat and orders an “Ember. Marley has a “Last Light.” Raising the frosty mugs, they toast the town and ponder their next steps while savouring their beverages.

They decide to drive over to the Muskoka Heritage Place, park behind the Active Living Centre, and stroll hand-in-hand to the back entrance near the Portage Flyer backed into its rail shed. A scale model of the train, with shamrocks on the shiny smokestack of locomotive 105, roars by on the tracks seen only by Bart and Desmond. The whistle blows feverishly at the ungated rail crossing.

Bart and Desmond observe the conductor, Wile E. Fox, and his wee assistant, Finnegan Lobaircin wave as they pass, and disappear into the darkness.

Bart swings out his arm to block Marley. “Woe! That was a close call!”

Marley responds with “Knock it off.  It’s getting late and we need to check this place out before it closes,” and they carefully step over the tracks.

The site contains old heritage buildings dating back to the 1930s, salvaged, restored and rebuilt on this site.  Other notable items include a copper still and requisite burners, an old safe by Dominion Vaults, remnants of a 1936 Studebaker Super Champion built in Walkerville plant 7, a seedy looking gin joint and a replica of a swing era bandstand with modern acoustics and Fairy Lake in the background.

A cold mist seeps inland from the small lake. Uncle Paul Emil Breitenfeld resolves and is seated in familiar cross-legged style — this time floating midair. Standing beside him is David Keay.

Bart: “Time to bring the music back to Huntsville.  How about a theme concert to celebrate the swing era?  Get people to wear period attire.  Have small acts roll out to the other venues like all those pubs and on the dock.  Make a festival of it.  To raise money for affordable housing.”

Marley, always up to a challenge: “Sounds like fun.  Let me check my contact list and get my peeps to help.”

David and Paul fade away forever giving them four thumbs up. The orange mist dissipates revealing a flower.

Bart picks it up.

Stay tuned for Episode 5 …

Steve Richards is Muskoka musician and anglo Canadian who with dulcet leather lungs and dexterous fingers longs for the days before they paved paradise to put up a parking lot.