LEO GERVAIS
The sun couldn't have shone any brighter Monday afternoon. Crossing Beaver Hall Hill from the Place Victoria Metro station, I marveled at what a beautiful day it was -- not a cloud in the sky, birds chirping (presumably asking where to nest after the ice storm removed their tree-top homes) and that cool, fresh smell that only wafts into the nostrils during springtime, abundant to all who walked to the funeral.
At 1:45 p.m. St. Patrick's Basilica at 460 René Lévesque Boulevard was virtually full. Close to 3000 friends, fans, acquaintances, and everyone in between were there to pay tribute at 2 p.m. to Montreal politician and journalist Nick Auf der Maur, "the human harbour" as one eulogist put it.
Nick was a man who embraced life with every fiber of his being, and left all who dared embrace it with him cherishing the deep memory of a loving kiss. Dozens stood for two hours next to the pews and outside the church observing one last moment for Nick.
I had met Auf der Maur on a few occasions although it was usually a polite handshake after a quicker introduction: "Nick...Leo, Leo...Nick." We had a few friends in common so it wasn't unusual to see Nick at a party or, if you can believe it, a bar telling stories or arguing some political point.
I recall an episode at the Centaur Theatre when Bowser and Blue were performing one of their 'Blokes' shows, and Nick was asked to come on stage to play 'bum darts,' a rude game whose merits and rules won't be mentioned here. Suffice to say Nick, with tumbler in hand, seemed to grasp his new recreation with startling ease, leading many in the audience to wonder how Nick became so proficient at it. That is, after they dried their eyes from laughter. That was one of the only times Bowser and Blue got fewer laughs on their own stage than some bon vivant whose mere presence made people smile.
On another occasion, I recall (sort of) a late evening with Nick and his old pal Juan Rodriguez, a former rock music critic for The Gazette, at the Upstairs jazz club. Juan writes questions for the Trivial Pursuit game and I engaged in a test of trivia with him, being a fan of such things. Nick held the rest of the table -- mostly young women -- captive with some exotic tale of Cuba, revolutionaries, and writers.
I don't remember his exact point or focus -- there probably wasn't either. The moment was the thing with Nick, and judging by the reaction of the crowd to the wonderful eulogies of him, there were countless moments being remembered as we all said goodbye at St. Patrick's.
Much has been said of Nick's life -- politics, writing, bars, women, his daughter Melissa -- but there is perhaps an even stronger message in his death.
As the Dixieland band traveled down René Lévesque, I realized why this man was so loved. It is almost impossible to put what everyone loves about Montreal into a few simple words, but Nick somehow became the personification of the city itself: bilingual, fun, serious, political, contradictory, intelligent, savvy, sinful and respectful all at once.
As the sun started to wind down on a lazy Easter Monday afternoon, friends of Nick drank to his memory at his cherished Crescent Street haunt, Winnie's, happy in the knowledge that they were lucky enough to have docked in his harbour, even if the boat was never moored for long.
Adieu, Nick. Montreal will miss you. Leo Gervais edits Quebec's Westmount Examiner.
Copyright © 1998 Leo Gervais/Log Cabin Chronicles/6.99 |
