A memory of Gordon Lightfoot

When I saw the New York Times obituary Wednesday on folk singer Gordon Lightfoot, I thought to myself: Wait, didn’t I interview this guy?

During my time covering music for the New Haven Register and its sister paper the Journal-Courier in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s I spoke with many musicians who were promoting their upcoming shows at venues in the area, including Toad’s Place and the New Haven Coliseum. Many of those interviews were done over the phone, so they weren’t as memorable for me as face-to-face encounters.

However, I held onto every clipping (hard copy!) And so when I dug into my old peach box of clips Wednesday, there it was, from June 18, 1982: my “phoner” with Lightfoot.

In my lead I predicted that Lightfoot “will never be the subject of one of those awful headlines about musicians who are found dead of a drug overdose in a hotel room.” This turned out to be true; he died (at 84) in a Toronto hospital. The Times reported Lightfoot had experienced “a number of health problems in recent years.”

I wrote of Lightfoot: “At age 43 he still has a fine voice, a clear head, a romantic vision and a loyal following.” This was a decade after his hits “If You Could Read My Mind” and “Sundown” were on the charts but he could still draw a good crowd.

Lightfoot was relaxed and friendly during our phone interview from his home in Toronto. He was generous with his time, allowing me to easily find enough quotes for my story. He appeared to be candid, even confessional.

But now I’m wondering if he was honest with me when he said he didn’t have any big drinking or drug problems. The Times, in a sidebar to its obituary, stated: “Mr. Lightfoot was an alcoholic and a rounder who knew a lot about tempestuous relationships. He wrote ‘Sundown’ while in a jealous fit of fantasy about Cathy Smith, a girlfriend whose cheekbone he once broke during a fight.”

Really, Gordon? Is that true?

The Times noted Lightfoot was married three times. After two divorces he settled down with Kim Hasse. He had six kids.

It’s clear I’d done some research about his personal life before our interview: I wrote: “Ironically, Lightfoot had an indirect link with the drug-related death of comedian John Belushi. Cathy Smith, the woman who was with Belushi during his last hours, had lived with Lightfoot for three years. A magazine described Smith as ‘the one person who really hurt Lightfoot.’”

When I asked him about the reported origin of “Sundown,” he said, “There’s some truth to that, yes. She (Smith) lived with me for three years. That relationship ended seven years ago. But I can clear up one thing: the child she had was born when she was 17 — years before I met her.”

At the time of our interview Lightfoot had three kids but was not married. He said he was enjoying living in downtown Toronto, being in the center of a big city.

“I’ve had my moments (of wanting to escape), the same as everybody else. I’ve been through all the same kinds of ups and downs that people have encountered in their lives. But I’ve got too many responsibilities, encumbrances. The thought crosses my mind every once in awhile, but I don’t feel any particular desire to take off.”

Lightfoot noted he did “take off” when he was 17; he left his small town in Canada and headed to Los Angeles. “I didn’t make any particular mark on the world at that time. I did a couple of semesters (Westlake College of Music), then came back home. I was trying to find my direction, writing songs, but it didn’t jell until I was 24 or 25.”

I asked him what brought about his breakthrough. He replied: “It was separating the wheat from the chaff in terms of my writing. I had to perfect the craft.”

But by 1982, the time of our conversation, I wrote: “Moody romantic music isn’t making much of a dent on radio playlists.” Lightfoot said, “Where they’ve got me right now is ‘adult contemporary.’ That’s where I’m stuck. I need to get in the top 40 on rock stations.”

Lightfoot spoke with me four days before his performance at the Oakdale Musical Theater in Wallingford. Again this week I wondered: Did I see that show? If I did, how come I can’t remember it?

As it turns out, I ditched Lightfoot because I was in the very early stages of a romantic relationship with the young woman who would become my wife. Instead of going to the Lightfoot show, I was with my future bride on the New Haven Green to hear the New Haven Symphony play Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture.”

You might ask: How do I know all this, 41 years later? Well, I share one thing in common with Supreme Court Associate Justice Brett Kavanaugh. As we learned during his confirmation hearing when he was accused of sexual assault, he had compiled calendars of his daily activities for decades. So did I. I still do.

And so yes, my calendar for June 20, 1982 notes that in the morning I ran in a Dunkin’ Donuts Road Race (every runner was handed a doughnut at the mid-way point; I ate mine on the run) and in the evening I was on the New Haven Green with my future bride for the symphony concert. And this is what I crossed out for that date, something I had originally earmarked: “Gordon Lightfoot at Oakdale.” D’oh!

In retrospect, it’s too bad I missed my only chance to see and hear Lightfoot live. But I must say I don’t have one of his records or CDs in my prodigious collection. “If You Could Read My Mind” and “Sundown” have been played to death on the radio, so I don’t need to ever hear them again. As for his other big hit, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” I’ve always considered it an overlong dirge. I realize he had some other notable songs, including “Rainy Day People” and “Early Morning Rain” (he was hung up on rainy songs). He delivered poetic lyrics (“Just like an old-time movie/’Bout a ghost from a wishing well”) with a strong, expressive voice. Somehow he just never really got to me.

But — I’ll always be grateful to Gordon Lightfoot for sharing his thoughts and time with a local music writer for a New Haven newspaper.