Music Before the Money

This week I learned of the passing of the man who gave me first chair at a seminar in Las Vegas. Bill Dempsey, contemporary of self-empowerment gurus Randy Revell and Zig Ziglar and a student of Willliam Penn Patrick, died last weekend.

Sage Seminars

I was drawn to Sage Seminars by ad in the newspaper entitled “Speak and Grow Rich.” I borrowed money to fly down to Las Vegas and took the first course and then went on to the Instructor’s Academy. In the meantime I flew to Saddlebrook, New Jersey, to volunteer at the next part of the training, “Magic Maker,” and then, undaunted, borrowed some more money to go to the high mesas of Arizona outside Sedona for “Master Quest.”

This series of course was masterminded by Bill Dempsey. It was designed to kick the crap out of self-sabotage and, as he put it, “step into your greatness.” Dempsey even gave us books to read that you could never find on bookshelves. They were insightful and I still re-read them. The first was The Man Who Tapped the Secrets of the Universe” and the second was Ken Roberts, The Rich Man’s Secret: An Amazing Formula for Success. He also introduced us to A Course in Miracles and made sure we knew we had angels around us.

But above all he was a lion of a man and his wife, Peggy, often said, “He can see the seed of greatness in everyone.” He once remarked to me after I gave my introduction in front of my classmates, “You’re good. You’re damned good . . . In fact, I bet you don’t know how good you are.” It wasn’t until much later that I realized that this was not a compliment but a challenge. Because until I stepped into my own greatness I would never be great.

I always remember him listening to one of the guys in the seminar trying to weasel out of taking the second course and Bill jumped up and charged toward him. “What is your commitment!” he bellowed. I never saw the guy again but I came back.

Oh the gist of it all is the
first day of fall is the day
when my ship
will set sail
The best of all friends will say
good-bye again there’s still
time for
one last glass of ale.

Gordon Lightfoot, Triangle, 1982

In 1982 I was traveling on the road by myself playing lounges and small pubs. Most the places were red-necked joints that needed a duo with a beat box rather than a pub singer with a 12 string guitar. The ’70’s were over and this was just starting to sink in as the economy hit the toilet and my audiences were in anything but a joyous mood.

I bought Gordon Lightfoot’s new album, Shadows, and it was the most played tape from my box. The sound was edgier than his previous 14 albums and the beat was slower and more intense. His acoustic side was put on hold to let synthesizers and organ through emoting a surly atmosphere that I appreciated during my lonely travels across the snowy plains to another 3-grain elevator town.

Then, without warning, Triangle came on and it’s old Lightfoot again. This sea shanty broke up the mood and got me out of my self-induced funk every time I heard it. A ballad of the Bermuda triangle it rollicks like a good beer-drinking song should and the lyrics sometimes come to me when I’m in a solitary mood. It shows to me that Lightfoot, to a great extent, has supplied many songs to the soundtrack of endless road miles.

As Gordon Lighfoot gets older I cherish his music more. This year Robert Goulet and Pavarotti left us and. although I wasn’t a fan, I did appreciate that they had many die-hard listeners. I just hope Gord keeps going a while longer.