I migrated to Toronto, Canada, in the early 1960s, dabbled in the music business part time for a while, and then started my own band – the Tradewinds – in the mid-60s and started our own nightclub there, in a venue known as the Bermuda Tavern, which became our home base and a favourite with Caribbean people. In well over a decade of performing there I was rubbing shoulders with the variety of Caribbean musical talent either appearing as performers “on the road” or as migrants to Canada who had become part of the economy.
As expected, the very wide span of performers involved, apart from Tradewinds, produced a range of experiences, and several of them stand out for me. Keyboard/pan man Sello Gomes, drummer/vocalist Eddie Edgehill, and keyboard maestro Dennis DeSouza, all of Trinidad, would be three such, but there were many others in that volatile Toronto mix of musical talent emanating from Barbados, Jamaica, Antigua, St. Vincent, St, Lucia, Guyana, etc. contributing to this vibrant Canada/Caribbean mix of things. West Indians were providing a wide range of Caribbean music in major Canadian and U.S. cities, catering for North Americans who loved the music, having vacationed there, as well as for the horde of migrants, like myself, who lived in North America but still enjoying their Caribbean beginnings.
One of those early migrants was the Jamaican Dick Smith, who had become a linchpin of the Toronto music scene after migrating there also in the 1960s. Dick’s hand in the development of Caribbean music in this very Canadian city on the shores of Lake Ontario was extremely significant, not just because of his drumming and vocal talents but also for the very high level of professionalism and polish he brought to the stage. For several years, he captained the house band at the West Indies Federation (WIF) club in the West End of the city and performed with his group year-round at a range of functions in Canada, and dabbled in a range of musical experiences, presenting Caribbean material to a Canadian audience, many of whom were newcomers to it.
This week, with news of the sudden recent passing of Dick in Toronto, there have been calls for us to remember him as pivotal in whatever musical contribution Caribbean people have made and are making to life in many major cities in North America – Miami, Orlando, Los Angeles, Toronto, Montreal, Edmonton, Vancouver, etc. To say it was pivotal is putting it mildly. Dick was an accomplished percussionist, but also a singer and composer (he did many radio commercials for Toronto and Montreal radio stations) and he also ran the house band for many years at the popular West Indies Federation (WIF) nightclub in the West End of Toronto, an after-hours venue for Caribbean music into the wee hours.
Apart from his musical skills. Dick also had a reputation for integrity that showed itself in every area of the music business – an attribute, I must confess, that many other Caribbean musicians in Canada were sometimes lacking, and it was this combination of musical talent and personal integrity that stood him in good stead in his sojourn in North America. His record there stands unblemished. Time and again, in a variety of encounters, one would see that side of Dick, crystal clear, day or night, hot or cold, year round in that setting.
The news, as we now know it, is that his health had declined in recent times and he was under medical care, but he suffered a very serious fall some months ago from which he never fully recovered and he had passed away suddenly. In his time, he never received the accolades he deserved from the city of Toronto, or from the many musicians who knew and respected him in Canada, and it saddens me to have to admit this piece of the Dick Smith story.
He had dedicated himself to this work that he was born for and loved. A tall, soft-spoken individual, always neatly dressed, polite to everyone, indeed setting a standard for sobriety and professionalism not always found in the music profession, Dick Smith was a shining light for his homeland, Jamaica, and the entire Caribbean in the way he carried himself and did his music, and for the integrity that was always in play when he came to the work at hand.
I will miss his ever-present smile in the most taxing circumstances as well as the unvarnished Caribbean panache he brought with him, on the stage and off. Yes, I have a rather lengthy list of names of Caribbean people in music who are so blessed, but when the subject is integrity, the name Dick Smith stands high up in any such column. I recall telling him words along those lines on one occasion, late at night, after a performance in Toronto, and that he laughed at my tribute with a pithy Jamaican expression I can’t repeat here; typical Dick.
One of a kind…..always on course….assured and still humble…Dick Smith. God bless him…. greatly!
