Unfiltered patriotism
“Seriously? This guy wrote a song about ketchup?”
That was my first reaction to Stompin’ Tom Connors, way back in the ’80s when I put down the latest Iron Maiden or Smiths album to cue up The Ketchup
Song. As jaded college music buffs were quick to do, I decided this guy was ridiculous.
I surely wasn’t alone. How could anyone under 70 like this stuff? Hillbilly songs about newfies and truck drivers and Tilsonburg? Did his albums come with chewing tobacco and a spittoon?
Needless to say, I didn’t bring many Stompin’ Tom mix tapes to college parties.
He clearly wasn’t made for the ’80s, and thank God because we wouldn’t feel that ache we do today now that he’s gone. He was timeless … you came to him when you were ready. When you could realize it wasn’t really a song about ketchup, but a philandering guy from P.E.I. who weds a gal from Leamington. The place they make Heinz Ketchup.
This is how most people came to admire the icon from Saint John, N.B. First you liked him ironically, then you liked him genuinely. Songs you assumed were jokes were really Canadian anthems, documenting northern life in ways few other singers did. Or ever will. How many towns and cities across Canada felt a kinship to Connors merely because he mentioned them in a song?
How many people dug deeper into his lyrics to truly see what unfiltered, uncynical patriotism really was?
It wasn’t an act. It couldn’t possibly be, after so many decades. At some point you figured Connors would ditch the Canadian stories for a jab at U.S. stardom, but he didn’t budge. It may have cost him millions, but he was content singing tales like Bud
the Spud and Big Joe Mufferaw in dive bars and saloons.
That kind of cred goes far among musicians, even after he blasted the Junos for celebrating Canadian artists who did most of their work in the U.S. The way Connors saw it, they didn’t deserve to be recognized in Canada if they didn’t work in Canada. He even returned his six Juno Awards, telling the board of directors “as far as I am concerned, you can give them to the border jumpers who didn’t receive an award this year and maybe you can have them presented by Charley Pride.”
Stompin’ Tom basically told the Junos to get bent. Because he thought they weren’t Canadian enough.
Instead of a backlash, it made Connors a folk hero. By the time The Hockey Song started becoming a fixture in arenas during the late ’90s, Connors wasn’t just our Woody Guthrie, he was our Uncle Sam. Prime ministers came and went, he stayed. I’m not suggesting you could only appreciate Connors as you got older, but he certainly registered more. Whether it was a bad trip to the U.S. homesickness while overseas, anything that soured your mood as a Canadian, suddenly missing an appendage.
Now is when his value will truly be celebrated, his songs played with the sad realization he’ll never perform them again.
It was easy to forget he was 77, that we got more out of him than we had any right to expect. Stompin’ Tom would leave us some day, but like every artist who becomes part of the cultural fabric we’re never ready to say goodbye.
But that’s OK. He did it for us. A few days ago, knowing the end had come, Connors penned one final note to fans.
“I must now pass the torch, to all of you, to help keep the Maple Leaf flying high, and be the Patriot Canada needs now and in the future,” he wrote.
“I humbly thank you all, one last time, for allowing me in your homes. I hope I continue to bring a little bit of cheer into your lives from the work I have done.” More than he’ll ever know. “In Canada we get to see them all,” he once sang.
There might never be a better tour guide.