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Orangeville, Ontario
June 26th, 1963
In a sleepy little home on a warm day in 1963, 18-year-old Elijah McDougall sits on the floor of his bedroom, his short, wavy brown hair styled—slightly longer on top and neatly combed back–as his fingers gently pluck the strings of his acoustic guitar. The tunes of "Freewheelin' Bob Dylan" fill the air, the vinyl record on the turntable having already etched its grooves from countless repeated listens in just a month.
Elijah, leaning into each strum, matches his fingers' movements to Dylan's guitar work, striving to absorb every chord. His eyes occasionally glance at the record sleeve, studying Dylan walking down a cold New York street and wrapped in a tan cotton button-down with a girl on his arm with straight hair and high boots. He smiles, picturing himself walking with Bob on those same streets, getting lost in the record sleeve when the door suddenly swings open, revealing Elijah's father standing in the doorway. His presence looms, the lines notched on his weathered face reflecting a stoic demeanor.
"Put that goddamned thing away. It's time to go"
The atmosphere shifts suddenly. Elijah hastily sets aside the guitar and quickly takes the needle off the record, aware of the disapproval that often follows discussions about his musical aspirations. His father's stern gaze lingers for a moment.
"O.K." Elijah says, his eyes barely meeting his father's.
"O.K. what?" his father retorts bitterly.
Caught off guard by the directness of his father's question, Elijah hesitates for a moment, before looking his father directly in the eyes. "O.K. Sir."
"Your mother's waiting downstairs. Let's go," his father states bluntly, breaking the tension-laden moment with a directive. Elijah stands up and carefully places his guitar back into its case.
"He's always getting on my case," Elijah thinks to himself as he leaves his room. "I never asked him to hate me so much."
As he descends the stairs, he spots his mother at the bottom, flashing him a smile. He smiles back as he shows off his graduation gown.
"You look so handsome, my little angel," she beams, offering a compliment that brings a hint of pride to Elijah's expression.
"Thanks, ma," Elijah says sheepishly.
Elijah and his mom hug, Her brown curls brush against his shoulder as they hold each other.
"I can't believe you're finally graduating," his mom says, her voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia and pride as she holds Elijah in her embrace. "Now look. Don't listen to your father. You keep playing that guitar. You're getting good at it!" She smiles again and pinches Elijah's chin as he walks towards the door. He looks over to the living room where his dad is now sitting in a chair listening to the radio.
"President Kennedy is currently in West Berlin today where he gave a speech to more than 12,000 Germans."
"Two thousand years ago, the proudest boast was civis romanus sum. Today, in the world of freedom, the proudest boast is 'Ich bin ein Berliner!'... All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin, and therefore, as a free man, I take pride in the words 'Ich bin ein Berliner!'"
"Yeah, Kennedy. Suck up to the Krauts..." Elijah's father mutters disdainfully from the living room, his tone carrying a hint of cynicism toward the President's address. Elijah heads out the door, looks back at his mother, and smiles.
***
September 15th, 1963
3 Months Later
Elijah stands in front of the counter at Jeffers', a local drug store nestled in downtown Orangeville. With a broom in hand, he sweeps the floor, the bristles swishing across the tiled surface, clearing away remnants of the day's activities. Customers peruse the aisles, and the bell on the door chimes occasionally as patrons enter and exit. Elijah has been working here for a month or so, making some money since graduating high school. As he continues to sweep meticulously, his movements become mechanical, his mind drifting elsewhere.
Elijah starts thinking about the Freewheelin' cover and starts imagining himself walking with Bob Dylan on that cold, New York street.
"Wouldn't it be a gas to hang out with Dylan?" He thinks to himself, "Just shooting the shit, talking about music..."
As Elijah absentmindedly sweeps the same spot repeatedly, his boss, Rex, an imposing figure with a striking resemblance to Elijah's father in both looks and temperament, strides over. Rex's stern presence looms over the store floor, his penetrating gaze not missing a detail.
"Elijah!" Rex calls out, jolting Elijah back to attention. "What are you doing? You're missing a ton of the floor!"
"Sorry, Rex," Elijah responds quickly, snapping out of his trance-like state and refocusing on his duties with a swift apology. Rex shakes his head and walks away.
"And cut your hair," Rex says sharply, echoing a sentiment that Elijah's father often voices.
"I'm going for an Elvis sort of look. You don't like it?" Elijah retorts with a hint of sarcasm, a smirk playing on his lips as he challenges Rex's directive about his appearance.
Rex's stern expression remains unchanged, his gaze fixed on Elijah, unruffled by the hint of sarcasm in Elijah's tone.
"Elvis, huh?" Rex responds dryly. "Customers come in here expecting a drugstore, not a rock 'n' roll show," he adds.
Elijah chuckles, acknowledging Rex's point with a wink. "Got it, boss. Drugstore style it is," he says amiably, as he resumes sweeping.
Later that night, Elijah stands outside the store as it's being locked up. He and Rex nod at each other as Rex walks to his car. Elijah starts his stroll down the street when a worn-out Chevrolet Apache, its engine sputtering slightly, eases towards him and halts by the curb. The window of the car rolls down, revealing the familiar faces of his friends Johnny and Ralph, their grins big and wide.
"Hey there, Elijah!" Johnny calls out with a hearty wave, his voice filled with excitement.
Ralph, seated beside him, offers a friendly nod and a smile as the car idles beside Elijah. Johnny and Ralph are a few years older than Elijah and both sport slicked back hair and black leather jackets. Elijah chuckles to himself. He can't help but find irony in their image—sporting slicked-back hair and the quintessential black leather jackets that define the cool 'greaser' look, all while cruising around town in a weathered pickup truck.
"What's happening, guys?" Elijah asks with a friendly grin, leaning closer to the car window to chat with Johnny and Ralph, eager to catch up and see what they're doing.
"Not a goddamned thing, as usual," Johnny replies with a chuckle, his tone tinged with a hint of playful sarcasm. His words carry a sense of laid-back resignation, hinting at the routine nature of their evenings, filled with mundane happenings in their small town. "But listen, Ralph and I are gonna drive down to Toronto tomorrow. You wanna come with?"
"Yeah, and bring your guitar, man," Ralph says, leaning over Johnny in the passenger seat. "We need a troubadour to help us pick up chicks."
"Yeah, of course!" Elijah responds with a grin, his enthusiasm evident. "What time were you guys leaving?"
Johnny glances at Ralph with a smirk before turning back to Elijah. "We're thinking around 8 pm, man," Johnny replies, "We'll pick you up at your place. Just make sure your old man doesn't see us. I don't think he likes us."
"Ah, shit. He doesn't like anyone." Elijah smirks, "Not even me. But 8 it is."
"You want a ride home?" Ralph asks.
"No thanks. I'll enjoy the walk home." Elijah responds with a smile. Johnny rolls his window back up as he and Ralph start driving away, the engine of Johnny's car sputtering as it begins to pull away from the sidewalk. The beat-up truck slowly fades into the evening as Elijah starts to walk home.
Less than 24 hours later, Elijah is sitting in the back of Johnny's truck as they cruise to Toronto. The radio station crackles to life within the Chevrolet Apache and the radio is turned up at almost full volume as the fading light of the day sets on the city's distant lights on the horizon. The dial, adjusted to a local station, emits a warm golden glow from the dashboard, its tuning knob surrounded by a halo of light as it is turned to lock onto the frequency.
"Send your membership card today to the Happy Fellows Club and win a year's supply of free food for a family of four. Plus a year's supply of clothing for a family of four to the tune of $1,800. A prize valued at $3,620 to be awarded soon to some happy members of the CKLW Happy Fellows Club. Here's the No. 1 song this week. Those delightful dames The Ronettes with 'Be My Baby' on CKLW."
Johnny and Ralph begin tapping the steering wheel and the dashboard in unison with the rhythmic pop song playing on the radio.
Elijah sits in the bed of the truck with his guitar propped on his knee, strumming along to the radio, enveloped in the sounds of music. His gaze fixates on the scene before him, a picture of rural Ontario bathed in the waning evening sunlight, rolling fields and lush green landscapes sprawling before him as he soaks in the ambiance and the sights. Elijah looks over at Ralph and Johnny who are smiling and singing along to the radio as they cruise through the winding country roads. As the trio approaches the outskirts of Toronto, Elijah marvels at the sight of the illuminated buildings that rise majestically above the darkening skyline. The lights seem to grow larger and larger, creating an illusion that the group is getting ever closer. Elijah realizes that he's never seen anything as spectacular as this. He grins, enjoying the sights while soaking in the moment.
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By the time the sun begins to set, the three of them reach Yorkville Village. Cars crowd the streets as they park and wander the bustling avenues, immersed in the energy and atmosphere that engulfs the area. An eclectic mix of musicians perform in front of an audience gathered on the sidewalks. Hip young adults gather under awnings of storefronts to watch the performance or indulge in conversations, sharing drinks, or smoking. Elijah looks on, absorbing the spectacle around him. The bright colors, loud music, and excited chatter of a buzzing community are in stark contrast to Orangeville. Elijah sees a large group of people around his age hanging outside of a car. The radio in the car is blasting "My Boyfriend's Back" by The Angels.
"There's a club around here we should check out," Johnny says "This one right here," Johnny says with a gesture as he turns the corner to walk into the entrance. The street with faint neon signs guides them to the folk club entrance. The three of them enter, greeted by the familiar scent of tobacco smoke and spilled beer. A low hum of conversation fills the air, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter. Stepping in, the vibe changes to the mellow strums of live acoustic folk music. Inside, it's cozy with candlelit tables, the sound of guitars and heartfelt vocals filling the air. As the three of them sit down at a table near the stage, Ralph nudges Elijah in the ribs, his face alight with mischief.
"Check it out, Elijah!" Ralph exclaims with a nod towards the bar where a slender young woman wearing a miniskirt and white go-go boots straddles a stool. Her long dark hair falls in loose curls framing her face.
"She's quite something, eh?" Johnny teases, his eyes fixed on the woman as she sips on a drink. "Not really my kind of chick, but she's alright."
"I dunno, I kinda dig the mod look," Elijah muses, his gaze still trained on the young woman as he fiddles with his guitar strings.
Just then, a man climbs onstage, moving to the microphone. The room falls quiet, and the crowd watches in anticipation.
"Alright, folks. You know tonight on Fridays here at The Purple Onion we have an open mic.." the MC's voice booms across the room, announcing the weekly event. "So if any of you cats have any music you wanna play, just come right up on the stage." The host pauses and steps aside, ceding the microphone. The stage remains empty as the crowd looks on, waiting expectantly. The MC scans the audience, his eyes searching for volunteers. "Come on, someone, let's not waste precious time, yes?"
Elijah looks at Johnny and Ralph, Johnny winks at him and Ralph motions for him to get on the stage.
"Go on, Elijah. Show them what you got," Johnny says.
"You've been practicing," Ralph adds.
Elijah stands up, reluctantly picks up his guitar, and makes his way towards the stage, feet dragging slightly as he moves. As he walks up the stairs to the stage, his footsteps amplify with every step. His heartbeat quickens and his hands begin to tremble ever so slightly as he goes to the microphone. The M.C. smiles and puts his arm around Elijah.
"What's your name, son?" He asks, his voice low and soft.
"Elijah. Elijah MacDougall," he replies, his voice wavering.
"Alright, Elijah MacDougall," the M.C. repeats, "Where you from?"
"I'm from Orangeville," Elijah states, his confidence growing as he becomes more comfortable.
"A small-town boy! Well, there you have it, folks! From Orangeville, we have Elijah MacDougall! Come on up and give us a song, son."
"It's good to meet you," the M.C. adds as he steps away from the microphone.
Elijah grips his guitar tightly and closes his eyes. He starts to play a few chords as the audience falls silent. He begins playing Bob Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" and then adds his rendition of Carl Perkins'' "Blue Suede Shoes". He hears a few whistles from the crowd and notices a couple of people clapping, which urges him to keep going. He sees Johnny and Ralph dancing in their seats to the rhythm of the music as he continues to play. When Elijah finishes his last note, the audience claps in approval.
"Very nice, Elijah, very nice indeed! Put your hands together, everybody!" The MC declares enthusiastically, raising his arms as Elijah walks off the stage, and heads towards Johnny and Ralph. As he sits back down at their table, Johnny and Ralph slap his back with wide grins.
"Now that's what I call hip, Elijah!" Johnny praises as he smacks Elijah's back once more, a broad grin across his face.
"Well done, man!" Ralph agrees.
Afterward, Elijah, Johnny, and Ralph stay out late talking, drinking, and listening to live music. Elijah learns that some of the performers on the bill tonight were in a band that had recorded a hit single recently. Standing outside, a large bearded man walks up to the three of them and looks at Elijah's guitar.
"That's a beautiful Martin," the man comments, admiring the instrument.
"Thanks, it's a 1950. Picked it up in a pawnshop in Kitchener a while ago," Elijah replies proudly, holding the guitar a bit higher for the man to see.
"You did good up there, kid," the man remarks as he holds out his hand to shake Elijah's, "I'm Marty. What's your name again?"
"Elijah and these are my buddies, Johnny and Ralph," Elijah answers, nodding to the two men standing by his side.
Marty shakes Johnny's and Ralph's hands before turning his attention back to Elijah. "Listen, I bartend for a club down in New York City. I think you'd do pretty good down there. You're a good-looking young kid with some talent. You ever think of playing in the Village?"
Elijah's ears perk up at the mention of New York.
"That's been my dream ever since I graduated, man. That's where Dylan started!" Elijah gushes.
"Well, kid, if you ever want to do it for real, consider coming down to NYC. I think you could make a go of it. Make some dough if you've got the nerve. Maybe get yourself some new threads, too," Marty adds with a laugh, his eyes running up and down Elijah, taking in his tattered T-shirt and faded jeans.
"Thanks, I'll think about it, it's a big decision," Elijah replies politely.
"Well, keep it in mind, kid. You look like you're ready for a change, and a little taste of the Village might do you some good. But listen, it's getting late, and I gotta run. Here's my card. Keep in touch. I've gotta head out," Marty says before bidding the three farewell, waving goodbye as he disappears into the night.
"I told ya coming to Toronto would be good," Johnny says with a grin as the three of them walk back to his car.
"Yeah, man," Ralph concurs, "it was a cool night, for sure."
"It sure was," Elijah says with a nod and a smile as Johnny's truck pulls away into the city streets.
***
The three of them make it back to Orangeville in the early hours of the morning when the first light of the day is beginning to cast its faint rays over the horizon. The town's empty streets, enveloped in the calm and tranquility of dawn, offer a stark contrast to the buzzing activity that filled the streets only hours before in Toronto's Yorkville neighborhood. Elijah watches the quaint Ontario scenery roll by as the car rumbles along the familiar roads. The view brings a smile to Elijah's lips—a scene of the world as it usually is, orderly and peaceful, the town blanketed in falling leaves. John and Ralph drop Elijah off outside his house with a casual wave before driving away in Johnny's car.
Elijah opens the door as the adrenaline of the night before is still buzzing through him. He feels like he couldn't sleep if he tried. So, he goes to walk to the living room but then notices his father sitting alone in the kitchen. He's looking out the window and Elijah slowly walks into the kitchen. His father looks up at him, his face hardening.
"What's going on, pop?"
"Sit down, Elijah." His father responds curtly.
Elijah looks at his dad curiously as he sits at the table.
"Is everything okay? Where's ma?"
"Your mother is in the hospital, Elijah." Elijah's father responds, his voice firm and somber. "While you were out galavanting with your little punk friends in the city, she had a heart attack."
Elijah is taken aback. "Wh...what?!"
"You heard me, boy. She's in the hospital and who knows what's going to happen?" He replies gruffly, rising from his seat. "So, no, Elijah, everything is not okay. My wife is in the hospital, and here you are, sneaking in like the lowlife you are."
His father paces angrily as he glares at him.
"So, don't you dare ask me if everything is okay because nothing is okay! Nothing will ever be okay as long as you carry on the way you do. Now get out of my sight and get to your room. We're going to see your mother in the afternoon."
Elijah gets up slowly and goes to walk away. He looks at his father and takes a deep breath. He can feel his hands start to ball into fists as he thinks of everything he wants to say to his dad, but he tries to suppress his emotions, knowing that whatever comes out of his mouth right now is only going to add fuel to the fire.
"Ok," Elijah mutters.
"Ok, what?!?" His father bellows.
"Ok...sir."
***
Later that afternoon, Elijah sits with his mom in her hospital room, clutching his mother's hand tightly. His dad stands silently in the corner of the room, his face fixed in a stoic expression.
Elijah leans towards his mother, tears streaming down his face.
"Please don't die, Ma..." he sobs. "I love you."
His mother turns her head to the side, her eyes opening slowly, focusing on Elijah.
"I love you too, Elijah," she says softly.
She lifts her hand, placing it gently on his cheek as a smile crosses her lips. "I'm fine, you know. Just tired."
"That's good, ma." Elijah sniffles, wiping the tears from his face with his shirt sleeve.
"And how about you?" his mother asks, "How was Toronto? Tell me all about it!"
Elijah's father scoffs before storming out of the room.
Elijah sighs as he watches his father leave.
"I'm sorry, Elijah, he means well," his mother reassures, squeezing his hand.
"It's alright, Ma, it's not your fault."
Elijah sighs and takes a deep breath as he turns his attention back to his mother. He tells her all about Toronto, relaying the details of his trip while she listens intently, interjecting with an occasional comment or question.
"So when are you leaving for New York?" she asks.
Elijah is shocked and taken aback by his mother's question. How could he have even considered going to New York? With his mom here in the hospital, and his dad in such a mood, how could he even consider leaving her behind?
"Ma, I don't think I could-"
"Elijah," his mother interrupts sternly, "I need you to go to New York. You have been put on this earth for a reason, son. And it's not just so you can work in a drug store or a factory or a coal mine. Go, go, and make a life for yourself. Go find yourself."
Elijah nods his head and rises from his chair. "Okay, Ma. If that's what you think is best, then I'll go."
His mother smiles up at him, reaching out to pull him into an embrace.
"Good. Because if you don't and I die here, I'm going to haunt you forever. Is that understood?" she jokes as Elijah returns her hug.
"Yes, ma'am!" he replies, unable to hold back his laughter as a single tear rolls down his face. Elijah gets up and leaves the room, seeing his father sitting in a chair. His father looks at him with contempt as he walks past him in the hall.
"That's right..." his father snaps. "Leave us all alone..."
Elijah takes a deep breath and then turns around, grinning at his father.
"Ok, sir." He retorts smugly. Elijah turns his back on his father, walking away without giving him a second thought.
As Elijah gets to a pay phone, he pulls the card out of his jeans pocket that the man named Marty had given him the previous night.
"Marty? Yeah, hey it's Elijah MacDougall, we met at the Purple Onion last night. Do you remember me? The guy with the Martin? Good... I want to talk to you about that offer. Give me until after Christmas and I'll be there in January."