So Long Bruce
Well, the Yukon is a sadder place today, a bit more empty. If you know Bruce Bergman, then you probably know by now that he died on Friday night. And if you didn't know Bruce, you're probably realizing you missed out. Bruce was surrounded by family and friends at a hospital in Vancouver when he died on Friday. He was unconscious, but people were playing music for him on his headphones. Because that's really what Bruce was all about -- music. Actually, no, that's not true. Because as great as he was as a musician -- and he was a terrific musician -- he was an even better person. Bruce came to the territory in the 1970s, and his brothers joined him off and on, over the years. Trying to put together a Bergman musical tree would be a truly immense task, but let's put it this way: if you went to a music festival or a gig or a campground in the Yukon in the eighties and nineties, there was probably a Bergman playing something somewhere. Bootjack, Goin' South, King Frog, and of course many shows with his wife Deb.......Bruce played all over the territory. He was also a huge part of the Yukon music scene off stage as well. He was trained as an electrician, and worked as a sound engineer. He worked on the tech crews of pretty much every music festival in the territory, but he had a special fondness for the Kluane Mountain Bluegrass Festival. That was kind of his thing.
I really got to know Bruce on the road between Whitehorse and Dawson City. Back in the day CBC used to record acts at the Dawson City Music Festival for various network programs, and our local shows as well. Then we started doing the kick off concert. The Friday of festival weekend, we would do the show live from Dawson, featuring some of the acts from the festival that weekend. Bruce and I would drive up a day or two before. We'd grab a stack of CDs from the record library here at CBC, but I doubt we listened to more than one or two of them, because Bruce liked to tell stories. So I got lessons in Yukon musical history on those drives, I learned what it was like to drive to Dodge in the middle of winter in dicey vehicles to play a weekend of shows at the Pit. And I loved every one of those stories, I only wish I had written some of them down. Once we got to Dawson, there was always some wrinkle, some kind of challenge. The power wasn't on at the gazebo, or poor weather would force us to make a last minute move to the KIAC ballroom or the Palace Grand. We'd pack up the gear and roll to another spot, or try to figure out why something wasn't working, and at the last minute Bruce would get it sorted. It's working he would say, for now. One time we moved the show to the KIAC ballroom and Bruce had to do some weird wiring thing that involved the stove in the little kitchen, then the comrex, the device we were using to send the signal back to Whitehorse, didn't work. With a room full of people, and a stage full of musicians, the thing finally came together about a minute before we were on the air. Bruce accepted every challenge head on, with a smile and good humour, and he figured every mishap would lead to another good story for another road trip. He had more than his share of health challenges over the past few years, and met those challenges in the same way. In the end, I guess, he ran out of time. A loss for all of us. I spent most of the day trying to find some friends to come on and talk about Bruce, but it's too soon. I talked to more than a dozen people, but they're just not ready. I completely understand that. And thankfully, we have Bruce's music, so we're going to play some on the show today. That's probably how he would want it. Bruce wasn't one for the interviews, but he could sit around a campfire or kitchen and play all night. Which is what I hope he gets to do now.