The Wheel deal

>> True country music lives on Monday nights at the Wheel Bar

by JOHNSON CUMMINS

There were rumours of a place that was supposed to be, on Monday nights anyway, the last bastion of real country music in Canada. A little place, tucked away off Cavendish below Sherbrooke in NDG, called the Wheel Bar. But somehow I doubted its existence. Now I'm a believer.

The first thing I saw as I got through the door was a homemade sign advertising "Vacuum Meat." I instantly thought, if God has a watering hole, this is it. Passing on the gelatinous meat, I moseyed over to the bar and got a 50. Serving up the suds was a lovely Liverpudlian lass called Lily White (strange name for a C&W bartender, huh) who almost made you feel like you popped into a pub on Coronation Street. "What can I get you, love?"

As I walked away from the bar with my liquid equalizer in hand, I was met with a "Hi, how ya doin?" from a table that looked like the cast of Golden Girls. There was some general head-nodding in my direction from the guys--like I'd just received a secret society handshake.

Everywhere I looked were cowboy hats and fringed shirts, people lining up and getting ready to play on the makeshift stage tucked behind three wagon wheels. Above the stage, shining like a beacon, was a banner reading "Old-time Country Music Club of Canada." No bullshit C&W veneer with shooter girls armed with schnapps in their holsters here, just fluorescent lights, some oil lanterns for decoration, warm, friendly people and amazing, amazing musicians playing the best of hillbilly, cowboys songs and everything else country music is supposed to be.

Authentic and unplugged

"I am on a mission, really," says Hillbilly Night host and organizer Bob Fuller. His mission is quite simple--to help preserve old-time country and western for the generations to come, without ever charging an admission at the door.

"What they call country nowadays is not country at all. I guess I'm still stuck in 1952." Fuller is a stout purist when it comes to his hillbilly music, and has some serious rules before you can climb up on his stage. Fuller insists that all songs performed must be before 1965 and definitely no electric instruments. Yee-haw!

This place is packed with people who love country music by pioneers like Roy Acuff, Kitty Wells, Ian Jack, Hank Snow and Hank Williams--and couldn't hum a Garth Brooks song if their lives depended on it. For over 36 years, Bob Fuller and his friends have been getting together every Monday night, charging no admission and having a grand ole jamboree. Starting at the infamous Blue Angel club, this Monday night tradition moved around quite a bit after the Angel closed. They've stayed at their current location for three years now and Bob is quick to point out that, in 36 years, he has only missed three Mondays, because of snowstorms.

The family atmosphere is contagious as musicians and audience alike get up to do some line-dancing while 77-year-old Gilles Tremblay from New Brunswick yodels out an old Wilf Carter number. Anybody can get up and play, as Bob has lyrics to standards like "Thinking Tonight of My Blue Eyes," "Pistol Packing Mama" or "Blue Moon of Kentucky" on hand. The quality is hardly that of your typical open mic night, either. Leonna Dionne, a regular, strums an old autoharp as she croons some of the best country tunes from the '40s.

"It's strictly old-time country, played with acoustic instruments," says Dionne. "We're like a big, happy family. We play songs from a time where you got your rhythm from guitars and bass going doo-doo-doo. Bob has dedicated his life to this and it wouldn't be fair to Bob to change it. An old country song is the most sentimental and meaningful song that you can hear. It's wholesome and just not fucked up with funny equipment, just true sound coming from somebody's own fingers."

The roots of rock

Another great regular on Hillbilly Night is a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy who goes by the handle of Tennessee John. Tennessee blows some serious harp, digging up the roots of rockabilly with some good ole hillbilly howl. "The Wheel Bar is the only place where you are going to hear that kind of music. I've been listening to this music since I was 16 years old. To me this is the whole core of music. Even rock 'n' roll comes from this. Charlie Feathers was the first one to say that all rockabilly was is rock 'n' roll, bluegrass and country all rolled into one. Monday night is my favourite night of the week."

Despite Fuller's strict rules, he doesn't exclude any of the young'uns who have been showing up over the past five years. There's folks like Bloodshot Bill, members of the Crazy Rhythm Daddies and dance teacher Sophia Wolff, who is taking Bob's tradition and extending it to include rockabilly and rock 'n' roll at her Barn Dance at the Wheel Bar this Saturday (it's free).

After filling up on pretzels and cheezies (only a buck for non-performers), it's time for the raffle. I won't give the prize away but it's not vacuum meat (my girlfriend won!).

After the raffle, most people, including myself, start packing up and getting ready to roll. As I drive back to the Plateau with Bloodshot Bill, Wanda Jackson was playing in the tape deck. As we start getting back to familiar territory I can't help but think that I really had found Canada's best kept secret. In a world with new country burning up the charts and making millionaires out of hacks, it seems we need the Wheel Bar more than ever.

Daisy Mae's Saturday Night Barn Dance happens at the Wheel Bar, 3373 Cavendish, Saturday, Sept. 22, 10pm-1am, free. $3 dance lessons at 9:30pm. Info at 282-2283. Hillbilly Night happens every Monday at 10pm