When I was 17 (gee, there must be a song in there somewhere) I was a street performer - who danced barefoot in the streets of downtown Toronto in torn blue jeans - with a shock of wild curly hair blowin' in the wind.
Peter Frampton's tresses of yesteryear had nothing on me!
Photographers found me a scintillating subject as I pranced - and spun around - and leapt through the air.
Indeed, their lenses were always at the ready to capture the impromptu moments on celluloid
Many of the candid shots ended up on the front pages of morning newspapers, in slick glossy magazines of the day - and in one instance that I know of - framed and lined neatly on a wall in Ottawa's National Art Gallery.
In one dazzling shot, a photographer snagged me mid-flight - with arms outstretched skyward and back gracefully arched - framed against the image of my favorite architectural beauty, Toronto's futuristic-looking City Hall.
So - when it was announced that the Rock Musical "HAIR" was coming to town - all manner of folk egged me on to audition.
I was a natural, after all, wasn't I?
Although I acquired a smidgen of actual stage experience (a portrayal of "Lomov" in Anton Chekhov's play "The Marriage Proposal" won me an Award of Merit in a Drama Festival) the chance to prance the boards in a full-fledged musical always eluded me.
Tossing caution to the wind, I burst onto the stage at the audition, determined to wow 'em.
After I sang the audition piece, the director quizzed me.
"What are you on?"
"The stage," I replied tongue-in-cheek.
A gaggle of reporters on hand - chuckled - and excitedly jotted down the remarks.
Needless to say, my audition tape ended up on the National News.
But, no cigar.
When word filtered back from casting, I was astonished by the appraisal.
The producers thought I was stoned - and subsequently - passed!
I put the disappointment behind me and continued on with my street performances.
On one outlandish occasion, when I got swept up in the emotion of a protest on Baldwin Street, I was arrested for dancing on a police car.
But, I was acquitted due to the expert legal counsel of a smart young lawyer - Clayton Ruby - who's star was on the rise.
One fall day, I was vigorously performing for a handful of tourists on Bloor Street in Hog Town, when a taxicab screeched to a sudden halt.
A wild-looking man with a burly build raced towards me and yelled out:
"You've got to be in Hair!"
As it turned out, the charismatic hippie-guy was none other than Gerome Ragni - who wrote the rock musical "Hair" - with his partner, James Rado.
In town to assist with the Toronto production, he had his eye on me as the great white hope!
At this juncture in my life, though, my stage ambitions had been quelled a little.
Despite Gerry's urgings, I neglected to dash down to the Royal Alexandria Theatre to become a member of the Tribe.
However, we became fast friends.
According to Gerry, Hair was a difficult production to get off the ground.
The innovative musical languished beneath the radar of the theatre-going public, and subsequently, the initial sales were sluggish.
Hair was just another obscure off-off Broadway production, struggling for attention, amid other worthy theatrical hopefuls.
Things turned for the better one fine morning when the writing duo struck on the idea to incorporate a titillating sensual nude scene into the mix.
You got it!
The police caught wind of the plot turn (probably by way of a sly press agent) and - amid a lot of fanfare - paid a much ballyhooed visit to the Theatre to close the show down on charges of indecency.
Understandably, Hair was thrust into the International spotlight.
Before you could say - Rock Musical Hit - the show was a sell-out success!
The rest is show biz history, of course.
Although I did not sign on to be a member of the hippie cast in Toronto's production - on opening night, I not only attended - but sprang up on stage at the grand musical finale and danced up a storm with the cast!
The exuberant moment was captured by photo journalists, and subsequently, published in the weekend edition of the major daily.
Yes, "Hair" was the musical that got away, but there will be others!
Although Gerry passed away in 1991, fond memories often surface.
On those occasions, I find myself humming a tune,
"When the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, then peace will guide the planets, and love will steer the stars."
