I met Harold one night at the Pilot Tavern he was not a regular there. We got into some long hot discussion and he invited me back to his place. We go in to his den and he takes two bottles of Scotch out of the cupboard and hands me one and a glass. We tour around the house looking at works of Art, Mostly his, and they are really impressive. We end up in the basement sitting on carousel horses which he collects. He also shows me an old x-ray machine he was experimenting with. (I think it might have killed him) And so we talked and argued until the scotch was gone. He got me some blankets and a couch to crash on. Not much to talk about next morning heavy hangovers just a coffee and I was gone.
"Toronto is a one Town Town".
I dropped in on Harold several times after midnight always welcomed with a bottle of Scotch. I remember some people being there the next morning like wife kids? I was never introduced.One night after the Pilot had closed I dropped in with Duke Redbird. He went ballistic. He said he told me not bring any friends. Then he took a look at Duke and said “Hey aren't you Redbird that guy trying to smarten up ACTRA. “ “I'd like to talk to you. ‘So I was forgiven. He gives Duke and I each a bottle of Scotch and we take the tour. Only after most of the Scotch. Harold is somehow become a native and is Duke's ally against the Whiteman and that would be me. Duke and I were quite bemused as he seemed become an Indian and I was guilty of all wrongs against them.
Harold described one of favorite moments paddling a canoe on a very foggy night in a friend's swimming pool in Claremont. “It was so foggy it was like being on a lake somewhere.
I liked Harold a lot he was creative and quite brilliant, but he was difficult to be friends with. He was slighted easily and always critical. One night he did a sketch of me (I wish I had it) so I grabbed his drawing stuff and did one of him. "Hey that isn't bad." he said which is about as close to a compliment as you got. I went his studio a few times it had been owned by AY Jackson at one time. It was full paintings everywhere he had bought an adjacent studio just for storage and that was full.
One night I was going to a party and I stopped by his place and asked if wanted to go. It was basically an Artist's party and they were usually pretty good back then. It took some prodding but he finally agreed. He was concerned that all Artists seemed to be taking verbal shots at him. He grabbed a bottle of Scotch and a bottle of Vodka and away we went. It was at a studio on Spadina. We got there about 11 and lasted an hour everybody was taking verbal shots at him and he wanted to go. I was driving so we grabbed the bottle of Vodka and took off up Spadina.
He swore he would never go to another "artist" party. Then he said “Doesn't Iskowitz live around here?”
I pulled over,” sure right there,” I pointed up to a window. It was a hot summer night and Gershon's studio window was open and the light was on he always worked late and I stopped by for vodka once in a while. So there is Town and me at one in the morning screaming at the 3rd story window, GERSHON! Gershon ISKOWITZ! Over and over. Gershon comes to the window and looks down at us and closes the window. We leave laughing.
I started doing a lot of sailing around then.
One night Harold said I could have his sailboat. He says it had been sitting at boatyard in Kingston for a couple of years, He couldn’t sail it himself and he was afraid it would rot away. He owned it with his dentist and Jack McClelland. He said they never really got together on it, he said I was always waiting for a ride to Kingston and never getting there. He got their permission to give it to me. I was excited
It was a beauty from the photos a 40 ft. yawl of a Stephen’s design. I gather some sailing buddies and went down to Kingston to see it. From the road it looked beautiful but up close it waterlogged and full of rot with our finances it was beyond repair. We found out at the yacht club it had sat outside uncovered for 3 years with the hatches open. It was a real shame.
About that time my marriage broke down and I went off sailing for 15 months in the Caribbean and sort of lost touch with Harold and he really never forgave me.
I ran into him at the 22 once a few months before he died of cancer. He kind of gave me a hard time. “Like some friend you are where the hell have you been.” I am not sure he believed me. He was as contemptuous of cancer as he was of anything but he wasn't the same it was wearing him down. I think of Harold often especially when I am being too critical but he was one of a kind.
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