At 19, I was in a band called “Kootenai North.” We came up with the name because “north” was a cool name at the time and we were from the Kootenay area of B.C. Native culture was also cool at the time ( it still is) and so we took the supposed-native-spelling.

We were also teenagers of legal age and lot of the places we played at were licenced establishments. This meant, however, that some of our friends and girlfriends could not attend because of their respective ages. As well, some clubs, like the Legions, were private and even if you were of age you needed to be a member in good standing or to be signed in. We did play school dances but they were few and far between.

In late 1972 we got the bright idea to throw a dance on Christmas Day night. The local laws required that nothing could be open on Christmas Day but at 12:01am on the 26th a dance could be arranged. So, one of the band members had parents who belonged to the Loyal Order of the Moose so we snagged the Moose Hall for a song (ha ha) and arranged for the dance.

Believe it or not, a band runs on volunteers, especially a young band who doesn’t do it for a living. Friends with cars help you get the equipment to the site and they spread the word for you to get crowds into the place. Then they get the party going by buying drinks and dancing. And making the cash register ring was what got you back to the spot again. And parents - who are largely forgotten when we lookback fondly at our formative years - are the ones who lend you money to get going and their vehicles.

But the biggest supporters of bands are - wait for it - the girlfriends. . . Yes, the girlfriends - those chatty babes who would sit at one select table in the clubs and sneer at you if you even attempt to speak with another girl in the place - are the ones who can turn a dead room into a party by flirting and coaxing guys to dance. When you throw a dance, they:

1. Get the tickets printed and sell them.

2. Put the ads in the newspapers.

3. Decorate the hall.

4. Take money at the door.

5. Operate the concession stands.

6. Do most of the cleanup afterward.

Now, your friends hang around for a purpose other than being friends:

1. They get to meet girls.

2. They get an instant party.

3. They get to meet girls.

The other resource we had were adults who helped with security. A woman named Noni worked at my parents’ store and was, as my father often stated, “Big enough to burn diesel.” This does not mean she was obese but having her at the door - as she was a feared woman at the store counter and a well-known icon - kept everyone at his and her best behavior.

The dances got going at 12:01 and a Mountie was always there to verify the time. We usually played until around 3:30am on Boxing Day. The power usually went out in the middle of song whereby Arnold Scheffer, our part-time band manager and local baker, would stick metal gum wrappers in the fuse box to get us going again. I said usually because we put on 3 of these dances in the ensuing years and he was there every time.

The day after meant waking up at 2:30pm for a dinner of Christmas left-overs. Then we got ready for week playing at the local ski resort culminating with New Year’s Eve at the Legion. Then, like all bands do the peak of their popularity, we broke up. . . and got back together . . . and broke up . . . and . . .