Austin Clarke

Austin Clarke Another old friend bites the dust. I met Austin in the pilot. We assumed he was a student he looked studious always neatly dressed in shirt and tie and a blazer. with dark rimmed glasses and always smoked a pipe, He kept pretty much to himself usually sitting in the front with enough light to read. Somehow got together and had many great conversations over a year or so. he mentioned writing a book I had never heard of. Then suddenly he wrote a piece for the Telegram or Maclean's or something entitled " I have No White Friends" .
I confronted him "what the hell is this, I thought we were friends." Somehow he convinced me it had nothing to do with me and we carried on Until he published a book and disappeared from the scene. The a few years later I met him at the track with his wife and we had a pretty good day and went out for eats and drinks. I met him another day by himself. We had both had a terrible day and in further honest discussion discovered we had enough between us to put a $2.00 bet on the last race. We picked a horse and made enough to drive to the Pilot in his Mercedes and have a couple of beers and laugh at our fortune bad and good.
Ran into him him at now and again at Art openings and the like and then met him at a book opening for Barry Callaghan.
and we reconnected a bit Barry and him used to go to Peterborough once a month for a writer's circle held by one of Barry's students who also happened to be a friend of mine. I visited him once in a while at his house but hadn't seen him for a dozen years until I called him last year he wasn't well and not much up for conversation.

Harold Town (not Harry, it's Harold)

Harold Town (not Harry, it's Harold)




I met Harold at the Pilot Tavern he was not a regular there.
we got into some long discussion and he invited me back to his place.
We go to the den and he takes 2 quarts of Scotch out of the cupboard and
he hands me one and a glass. We tour around the house looking at works of Art.

Mostly his, really impressive. We end up in the basement sitting on carousel horses which he collects.
He also shows me a old xray machine he was experimenting with. (I think it might of killed him)
And so we shot the shit til the scotch was gone. he got me some blankets and a couch to crash on.
Not much to talk about next morning heavy hangovers coffee and gone.

"Toronto is a one Town town".