Diana Yampolsky

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“
Get over to the mic. You’re not leaving”

 From the

Sharon Dunn
‘Get over to the mic. You’re not leaving’
From beginner to professional singer in 10 hours? I had to try

[Photo: Kevin Van Paassen, National Post]
Singing is “as intimate as sex, that’s why people are so vulnerable.” Diana Yampolsky demonstrates vocal technique to student Jason Meloche.

“Maybe it’s not too late to be discovered,” singing teacher Diana Yampolsky tells me optimistically when we meet. I’m here because Yampolsky, whose clients include Raine Maida of Our Lady Peace and Brian Byrne of I Mother Earth, advertises that she can unleash anyone’s hidden singing talent in 10 easy hours. “People are motivated by a dream,” says Yampolsky, a music major originally from Leningrad and founder of Royans Vocal Productions. “I see totally normal business professionals who, if I advise them, are ready to leave their careers making $100,000 a year because they want to be a professional singer. “In the meantime,” she says, in her thick Russian accent, “they’re in their forties and they can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
“I’m in my forties,” I point out. She rolls her eyes. “I had one professional man, 43. He presented to be normal, he sold his business for the sheer fact that he wanted to be a professional singer, but he couldn’t sing to save his life. I told him it would take at least 100 lessons, and even then I couldn’t guarantee a Sony contract.” Although that client never came back, Yampolsky says she always tells the truth about a student’s talent. “There are those who have a chance and those who don’t, those who can make it to be a Celine Dion or a Whitney Houston, and those who have to go a level below, who have a chance to sing for weddings and funerals, or voiceovers and karaoke. Everyone’s voice can be improved,” she says.

Yampolsky says her “accelerated artist development” is an innovative and unique approach to voice mechanics. “It’s a structural approach, a special methodology.” One of her specialties is voice repair. Even record companies — Sony, Warner Bros., BMG and Universal, among them — refer clients to her. “It is a holistic approach,” she says. “Your voice is an expression of who you are, a reflection of the state of your being. One thing I can tell without even hearing you sing,” Yampolsky tells me, “is that you are a very strong woman … with balls.” I thank her for the, er, compliment. “My claim to fame,” she says, “is beginner to professional singer in 10 hours — guaranteed.” I ask her to repeat herself. “Is my accent that bad that you can’t tell what I’m saying?” she snaps. I tell her that it is and await the consequences. She rolls her eyes again. Yampolsky decides I will sing My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion’s hit from the movie Titanic for my voice test. “Take your boots off,” she tells me, “so that I can have a look at your instrument.”
“What instrument?” I want to know.
“Your body, you’re the instrument,” she says as I stand on my tiptoes and she looks me over.

She tells me that I’m not proportionate. “Like a Stradivarius that’s warped”, she complains. “You’re top heavy When the ‘instrument’ is out of whack, the idea is to compensate”, says Yampolsky. Then she presses the record button to videotape my performance, and I’m off. I don’t sound too bad, I think, and I look forward to watching the tape. But the sad truth comes out when she plays it back to me. As a matter of fact, it will go down as one of the defining moments of my life because now I can no longer fool myself into thinking I can sing. Here I am on tape looking and sounding like what can best be described as a horribly injured cow, caught in an extended moo. I blush furiously, and for one of the few times in recent history, I’m speechless.”Your voice is all over the place,” Yampolsky says, not unkindly. “Your problem is this,” she tells me. “You’re like an airplane trying to take off — with the airport attached. Your voice is supposed to leave your physical body. You’re committing vocal rape [strong and forceful], instead of vocal love-making [strong and gentle]. If you were a gymnast, you’d be falling off the balance beam every minute.” She insists I try again after some tips, but I lie and tell her I have to leave.

Yampolsky tells me singing is “as intimate as sex, and that’s why people are so vulnerable. “Get over to the mic,” she orders. “You’re not leaving. And don’t stand like a pregnant woman,” she barks. “If it was easy, I wouldn’t have clients flying over from Japan and Hong Kong.”
“You’re tough,” I tell her.
“That’s why I get results,” she shoots back. “You didn’t bite,” she yells as I try again to sing. “Bite, bite, bite. Suck in your air, open up your upper diaphragm, smile, and place the sound on top. Your face has good structure for singing,” she points out, adding, “You know, the big mouth. “Give me middle C.” I do as I’m told. “Perfect,” she tells me. (Apparently not everyone can hit middle C.) “I had a man come in who looked like a Russian mobster,” she says. “He really wanted to sing, but he appeared to be tone-deaf, and couldn’t hit middle C. He told me that if I taught him to sing, he would give me a gift. A bullet or a Mercedes-Benz, I’m not sure,” she quips. “He wanted to sing Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, One of the lines is “Mama just killed a man.” Although it’s been three months, her client hasn’t returned. “He told me he had to be away on business,” she confides.

We record again. I’m biting, and my hands are forming an arc over my head, as she has instructed. Once again, we sit to watch the tape. The transformation from the first tape is unbelievable. “It’s a person that can sing,” says Yampolsky. And she’s right, but it doesn’t sound like me, it’s more a young-Willie-Nelson-meets-Shirley-Temple type of sound. “I sound so young,” I tell her. “It’s your spirit coming out,” she says. “You’re young at heart. You’re 32 years old in your spirit. This is excellent,” she enthuses. “If you didn’t screw up the last part, it would be amazing. You have it, big-time,” Yampolsky announces. “Forget singing for funerals. You could be phenomenal.”

She’s finally prepared to let me leave. I’ve been with her for more than two hours, and in the meantime another student has come in. His name is Jason Meloche, and he’s a professional singer. He tells me that Yampolsky’s method has repaired his vocal cords.”Are you afraid of her?” I ask. “A little bit,” he laughs, “but my voice doesn’t get sore anymore.” Yampolsky says Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears and especially LeAnn Rimes and Kelly Clarkson, of American Idol fame could all benefit from her help. “Would you give them lessons for free?” I ask.
“No way,” she says. “They must pay four times what everyone else pays.” Whatever that is. She refuses to discuss fees with me. As I’m about to leave, I consider again what she’s told me — that I could be a great success as a singer. “Could I have a song on the radio?” I ask. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” she says quickly, dashing my dreams.

by Sharon Dunn

Johnny Cochrane

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I’m not going, I’m eating my ribs

 From the

Sharon Dunn
“I’m not going. I’m eating my ribs”
Johnnie Cochran agrees to interview, but only after being promised favourite lunch:
Advocate, celebrity talks law and the NFL over lunch

[Photo: Glenn Lowson, National Post]
Johnnie Cochran chows down on a plate of ribs at CTV’s Toronto offices yesterday. He agreed to give an interview to National Post columnist Sharon Dunn if he was furnished with the meal. “These are very good,” he observed. [TORONTO, ON] The way to a man’s heart is still through his stomach.Best known for his defence of O.J. Simpson, Johnnie Cochran — who has also represented such high profile names as Michael Jackson, Puff Daddy and Aretha Franklin — has taken on groundbreaking cases in race relations. I met Mr. Cochran for lunch yesterday in the Green Room of CTV’s The Mike Bullard Show where he was taping a segment for TSN’s Off The Record.Lunch was difficult to arrange because of the famous lawyer’s extremely tight schedule, until I mentioned to his public relations people that I would deliver the best ribs in town (ribs are Mr. Cochran’s favourite food) if he would have lunch with me.Mr. Cochran agreed to the deal, and although lunch was slated for 12:30 p.m., he didn’t show until 1:30. “Sorry about that,” he said, “I was spending some time with Geronimo Pratt [now Geronimo Jijaga], one of my favourite clients who defines me better than anyone.”Mr. Pratt was a member of the Black Panther Party and was convicted of the 1970 murder of a young teacher. “Pratt was locked up for 27 years,” said Mr. Cochran. “It took three decades to prove that he was innocent.”Sitting down to his feast — smoked back ribs — Mr. Cochran said: “This is awfully sweet.”Staff from Dipamo’s Barbeque have personally delivered the food, wanting to meet Mr. Cochran. “I love the guy,” whispers Chris Fisher, Dipamo’s manager. “Some people get offended when I say that, because of O.J. Simpson, but here’s a guy who legally, with confidence and determination, handled the law over a period of time to find a man not guilty.”After a quick taste of his ribs, Mr. Cochran declares them “delicious.”

[Photo: Glenn Lowson, National Post]
U.S. defence attorney Johnnie Cochran, best known for defending O.J. Simpson, enjoys takeout ribs, the condition he set in granting the Post’s Sharon Dunn an interview. He said in Toronto yesterday he has joined the fight to liberate Bill Sampson, sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia. “These are very good, someone knew what they were doing,” he says between mouthfuls. Mr. Cochran speaks with extreme speed.”How do you do that,” I ask, “– eat and talk?””It’s good, and I’m hungry,” he replies, telling me to go ahead with my questions.”There are those who find it ironic that you’re involved with the Association in Defence of the Wrongly Accused,” I say, “and yet, you had O.J. Simpson, a man guilty in the eyes of many, acquitted.””Everyone’s entitled to his own opinion,” says Mr. Cochran, “but the jury found him not guilty. This is the way the justice system works, and I hope that people believe in that system.”I rephrase the question: “Would you represent a guilty man?””Only from the standpoint that he would plead guilty,” he says. “O.J. proclaimed his innocence to us throughout.” Mr. Cochran says his assessment of O.J. is based not only on O.J.’s plea of innocence, but on the evidence itself. “Remember, the jury was sequestered for a full year,” he adds.One of Mr. Cochran’s aides interjects: “We have to go.””I’m not going, I’m eating my ribs,” Mr. Cochran says kindly, but stubbornly. His handlers don’t have a chance: Mr. Cochran is not going anywhere.Instead, he launches into a passionate defence of the wrongly accused.”There are many individuals who have been freed and are off death row, due to DNA. It’s so important in Canada and the U.S. for us to stick together because there is injustice everywhere.”Besides getting involved in the Bill Sampson case, he tells me that he’s working on a big case over the next year. “It’s a toxic tort case involving a company … that makes all kinds of products, even turf in football fields,” he tells me. “Just about everyone in this town, Anniston, Alabama, is sick,” says Mr. Cochran. “I’m representing 14,000 people, most of whom are dying from cancer, caused by PCBs in the air and water.”Mr. Cochran is also passionate when he talks about the NFL and the lack of black coaches, another case he has adopted. “Seventy per cent of the NFL is made up of black players,” says Mr. Cochran, “but of 500 coaches, there have only been six black coaches.””We really have to go,” says an irate publicity person.”I want to finish my ribs,” Mr. Cochran says as he continues to eat.”Sharon, could you just carry them, and come along,” said the aide. She’s not kidding — I can see there is no way to separate Mr. Cochran from those ribs.”I’ll take them to your car,” I tell him.

by Sharon Dunn

Barney

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 From the

Sharon Dunn
Barney, I was wrong about you
One phone call and not only am I won over, I’m invited round for a hug


I was not looking forward to the Barney interview. As a matter of fact, I tried to get out of it, but my editor insisted. “It’ll be funny,” she promised, “Everybody loves Barney.” “Not everybody!”, I told her. I’ve personally never liked the purple dinosaur. And frankly, I’ve never even met a kid who likes him. “Do you like Barney?” I ask my 12-year-old son.
“No,” he  barks without hesitation. “But you insisted on wearing a Barney costume on Halloween when you were three years old,” I remind him.
“You’re not going to say that in your story, are you?” he asks, terror spreading across his face. Apparently nothing could ruin his reputation faster than the news getting out that he once liked the purple dinosaur.

This all became an issue because Barney, or at least his costume, was in town over the weekend for Winterfest, so I begrudgingly set up a phone interview with the voice of Barney. “The character voice is always the same,” Barney’s publicist tells me, explaining why interviews are done over the phone. “It’s just the man in the costume who keeps changing”, he says, adding, “Barney’s people provide journalists with sample questions to ask during the telephone conversation, like: ‘What is your favourite colour?’ and ‘What kind of dino are you, Barney?'” A paragraph in the instructions states that: ‘Barney will not discuss current affairs such as politics or social issues.’ Like I wanted Barney’s views about a possible war with Iraq. Gimme a break.

While I’m making arrangements with the publicist, I tell him, “Actually, I’ve heard a rumour that a Barney was caught looking up some little girls’ dresses”.
“What kind of stories do you write anyway?” he asks me, understandably aghast. But despite my best effort to frighten him off, the interview goes ahead, as planned. And at the appointed time, the phone rings and the voice of that sickeningly friendly purple dinosaur is on the other end of the line.
“How are you?” he says in his singsong manner. “I’m just ok,” I reply. 
“I’m going to make you great,” he says. I tell him that’s the best offer I’ve had all year. “And how will he accomplish this”, I want to know.
“We can sing and dance,” he says. I groan. “What about the Thinking Bench? (an apparent reference to some prop on Barney & Friends). We’ll spin you around until you come up with a good idea.”
“The Post tries that all the time, it never works”, I quip.
“Or I could just come up and we could hang out”, he offers.
Okay, now he’s starting to scare me. I tell him I’ve done my research and know that he’s not the most popular guy on the block. When he responds with shock and dismay, I remind him of Nine Months, in which Tom Arnold and Hugh Grant beat up an annoying purple dinosaur named Arnie.
“Why would they do that?” he wants to knows, miffed, “I’m just here to love everyone. Isn’t that what the world needs now more than ever?
“Since Barney seems to be getting a little political, I break the rule. “So what do you think about a possible war with Iraq?”
“I don’t know much about that,” Barney tells me, unfazed, “but I do know a lot about brushing your teeth..do you brush your teeth after every meal?,” he asks me. “Actually, I don’t”, I admit. “Well, you must,” he advises. “And make sure you floss and drink lots of milk.”
“Milk gives me gas,” I tell him.
“I’ll make a note of that,” Barney puns, cheekily.

About his popularity, Barney says, “I think everyone likes me, they just don’t want to admit it.” I confess that I’ve heard about ‘closet Barneys’, people who can’t own up to liking this guy. Then I even admit that I didn’t want to do the interview with him.
“Do I scare you?” he asks.
“Frankly, you do,” I tell him.
“And why is that?”. he wants to know. “I’m lovable and huggable. Maybe I should just come over there,” he says again.
“Now you’re really scaring me.”, I tell him.
“Maybe you’re afraid of love?”, he says. Bingo. He hits on my big problem in life, I’ve always been running away from love.
“You must have spoken with some of my past boyfriends”, I tell him.
Barney goes on to give me advice on overcoming my ‘fear of love’ and I realize that I’m enjoying our conversation. Why, he’s better than my shrink!
“What you need to do every day when you wake up,” he tells me, “is, first of all, you need to know that you’re loved by me. And the first person you see, you need to give them a hug.”
“The first person I see would be myself in the mirror.”
“Than you have to hug yourself,” he says. “Call me back and tell me how it works out.”, he adds before hanging up. I laugh as I put down the phone, amused that now I actually like Barney. My phone rings again. It’s Barney’s PR guy. “Barney wants to meet you,” he tells me.”
“You’re kidding,” I say. “No, really, he wants to meet you. Can you come to the show?” he asks. Then he confers with Barney in the background. “He just wants to see you. He says he loves you and wants to give you a hug.” Of course I pass on the invite because, as Barney has already astutely identified, I’m terrified of love, but can you believe it? Of all of the famous guys I’ve interviewed over the years, the only one to call me back to make a date is Barney. I have to say I’m getting to like the guy. But this is the only time I’ll admit it.

by Sharon Dunn
Edited Dec. 30/24

David Bach

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“You don’t know what it’s like to lose money”

 From the
‘You don’t know what it’s like to lose money’
I need David Bach’s financial advice and I need it now

[Photo: Chris Bolin, National Post]
DAVID BACH: “When you find your wealth, you find your freedom, and when you find your freedom, you find your life.”

My reasons for wanting to interview David Bach, author of Smart Women Finish Rich and Smart Couples Finish Rich, are purely selfish. I need help. In a financial climate in which bank account interest rates are under 1%, and the stock market is you know where, what’s a girl to do? What’s anyone to do? “The truth is,” says Bach, “that becoming wealthy is actually easy.” God, I hate it when a financial advisor says that. “I’m going to give you the formula in a few minutes.”
“Give it to me now,” I plead. He ignores me. “The first person to take your money is the government, which means, in Canada, you’re working with a 47¢ dollar. The rest of it goes to pay mortgage or rent, credit cards and clothes and, before you know it, you think, ‘If I could only make more money’ — so you make more money and then you spend more money — like a hamster on a treadmill.”

The next thing he says surprises me. “There is no correlation between income and wealth. Just because you’re making more money does not mean you’re saving more. All it means is that you’re in a nicer hamster cage, but you’re running harder and faster and you’re still not making any progress. “Bach says people are going backwards these days instead of forward, because of easy access to credit. “They’re even handing out credit cards in universities [in the U.S.],” he tells me.
“I want the formula to wealth,” I remind him.”So, to get out of the hamster cage …” he says dramatically, “you have to pay yourself first.””I’ve heard that before,” I blurt out, disappointed. “And how do we tell people who are having trouble paying their bills to pay themselves first? “Undaunted, he says, “The moment you get a job, take a percentage and put it in RSPs.”
“RSPs are too boring to talk about,” I inform him.”
Sharon, you can’t think your way to wealth. You have to act your way to wealth,” he tells me, insisting that the RSP thing works.
“Do you think I should get into third mortgages?” I ask, trying to make the conversation more exotic. “I’ve been offered 10%.”
“NO,” he says vehemently. “People have lost everything doing that.
“Before long, I’m spilling out my tragic tale of woe — how, after years of ultra-conservative investing, I jumped on the tech bandwagon at the beginning of 2000, with dreams of glory and wealth. Of course, we all know what happened next.”
So you’re a turtle,” he says. “You popped your head out, and someone snapped at it, and you’ve gone back in your shell. When you start hearing it’s a boom time again, you’ll pop your head back out again, get snapped at again, and go back in your shell.” I nod in agreement, willing to accept the inevitable.
“You don’t know what it’s like to lose money,” I complain, crying into my latte.”
Oh yes, I do,” he confides. “I lost too.”
Ah, the truth. “Not for my clients, just for myself,” he insists, “because I didn’t follow my own rule: Don’t invest in something that doesn’t make money.”

Bach says he lost his money by investing in an online grocery (Webvan). I look at his sad face and feel consoled. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” I say compassionately, enjoying the old ‘misery loves company’ thing, especially with a world-famous financial advisor, brave enough to admit he’s been there.
“So after we buy the RSPs, then what?” I ask.
“Maybe it’s a latte, or a cocktail, that you have to give up,” he says. “But if you take even five dollars a day and save it, you start to build wealth and, more importantly, build your financial confidence, so you can take more action.””
“Sure, take away whatever joy people have,” I complain, hanging on to my latte for dear life. Bach insists you have to start somewhere. He also thinks it’s a good time to take advantage of low interest rates. “I’ve just borrowed $1.5-million at 5 1/2% and locked in for ten years,” he tells me, conspiratorially. And get a good financial advisor,” he says. His advice, in a nutshell, will be, “25% GICs, 25% bonds, 50% mutuals (global, growth, value).”
“Everyone knows that,” I tell him.
“Not everyone,” he says. “I met a couple who were in their 60s. They told me, ‘We’ve got nothing — no money, no home, no savings, but we want to retire.” People put it off, and put it off, then when they’re in their 50s and 60s, they come to me, and they’re looking for miracles.” Bach says it’s not the fault of the economy. “When earnings are off, you should work your ass off in your job,” he says. “You should do more than is expected of you to protect your job, because most people aren’t bothering.” Bach says the first common trait of people who are rich is: “They work harder than other people.” In other words, “Sometimes you have to do what you don’t want to do, when you don’t want to do it, to get what you want.”

The second trait of the rich, he says, is this: “Financially secure people save 10% of their income, wealthy people save 15% of their income, and the ‘super rich’ save 20% or more.” He tells me that most “super rich” start at an early age and are done working by the time they are in their 50s.
“It takes a lot less to retire than you think,” he says. But then he adds, “Retirement is not the Holy Grail. It’s an overrated concept. Most people I know go back to work after retirement because you can only golf so much, you can only go to the gym so much …” As I’m thinking about that, still nursing my coffee, Bach says, “When you find your latte factor [where your money is going], you find your wealth. And when you find your wealth, you find your freedom, and when you find your freedom, you find your life. People think that they want money, but what they really want is their life. Most people are not living the life they want,” says Bach, insisting on what we’ve all heard before, that money is not the key to happiness.
“But at least with money you can be unhappy wherever you want,” I say. “Like in Paris, Hawaii … “
“It’s very easy to be caught up in the rush of life,” he tells me, “but make a promise to yourself that in five years, you’ll be ahead of where you are today — in better shape, better health, and closer to your dreams. It’s all up to you. You’re going to live a life anyway; you might as well live a great one.”

We end up talking about hot rock stars. “The ones you see today, most will be broke in a year,” Bach predicts, pointing out that Ozzy Osbourne is an exception, “because his wife is a brilliant marketer. She capitalized quickly.”No one’s star burns bright for too long,” he says ominously. He also refers to mighty mortals like Larry King who have fallen into bankruptcy. Our talk makes me feel better about my own losses, but I see the look of concern on Bach’s face, so I tell him not to worry about me because I’m not heading for financial ruin yet — although I might add that it hasn’t been for a lack of trying.

by Sharon Dunn

Carol

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‘I’m bitter. I loved my morning run’

 From the

Sharon Dunn
‘I’m bitter. I loved my morning run’
Lawyer attacked twice while jogging near the lake

[Photo: Glenn Lowson, National Post]
CAROL, 45, DOESN’T WANT HER LAST NAME USED: “I don’t want people calling me and having to tell the story over and over.” Early in February, Carol, a 45-year-old Toronto corporate lawyer, was attacked on the Toronto waterfront, the second attack she’s suffered in the area in months. (Just this week the police staged a re-enactment of the crime in an attempt to solicit leads in the case.) “Why would she keep running there?” I wondered.”It’s beautiful to run down there — you see the lake,” she explained when I tracked her down. (It turns out Carol is a woman I know socially.) “The first time it happened was in October [at Lakeshore and Spadina at 7:15 on a Sunday morning] … I could see a guy running towards me. I assumed he was a runner, but as he got closer, I saw that his face was covered with a white cloth.”The attacker grabbed Carol, sexually assaulted her, and shoved her into the bushes. Then he ran, and that was the end of the attack. “When I went to the gym the next day,” she tells me, “I told people what happened, but from what they could see, I wasn’t hurt, so I didn’t get the reaction [of shock and sympathy] that I expected.”The most recent attack, on Feb. 2, was a different story. “I was really beaten up,” she says. This attack also happened on a Sunday morning, shortly after 7, this time in front of the Queen’s Quay Terminal building.”I stopped to stretch on a bench, and I was grabbed from behind. I went down, and he punched me in the face a number of times. He was wearing a hood and saying, ‘If you scream, I’ll kill you.’ He repeated this over and over again, ‘I’ll kill you.’ “I can see the fear on Carol’s face as she is describing what happened. “Then he asked for my money, and I emptied my pockets, hoping it was over. There was a pause,” she says, “and then he started to sexually assault me [holding her down while he groped her and attempted to remove her jogging pants]. I thought, ‘This is going to be bad if I struggle or not,’ so I struggled and shouted at him to get off.”Carol tells me she works out a lot with weights, as well as doing a regular program of Pilates. “I think he had more than he bargained for.” She credits her strong mental and physical conditioning with preventing a further assault, and prompting the attacker to give up and flee. “It helped me a lot; I was stronger than he thought I was. Also it helped in terms of the way I felt mentally,” she says.Despite her injuries (two black eyes, a cut eyelid, a swollen nose, bruised arms, and back and rib pain that lasted over a month), Carol decided to wait until the next day to see her doctor, and actually spent the remainder of her Sunday in her Bay Street tower office. “My [law] partner came in, and asked, ‘How’s it going?’ I said, ‘I’ve had better days,’ and I turned to face him.”Everyone this time reacted with shock and concern, she says, especially back at her health club. “I was all beaten up. That got to people, because now there was something to see — even people who didn’t like me were sympathetic,” she says with a laugh.But Carol wonders about other women, rape victims, for example, whose injuries aren’t visible. “When I think what these women have gone through,” she says, “and most of them aren’t talking about it.”When people found out she was assaulted, Carol was approached by other women who’d had similar things happen to them but had never told anyone. “I was shocked at the number of people who have suffered violent attacks,” she says. “It’s now an enormous part of who I am.”Carol thinks these violent crimes against women occur because women are vulnerable. “This wasn’t about sex,” she says. “It was about power and control.” Perpetrators, she says, rely on the fact that “we’re too humiliated to talk.” Of her most recent attack, she says, “the police think he’s done it before, but the victims didn’t report it, and so he was on the streets waiting for me.”Still, she understands women who haven’t gone to the police. “After the first attack, I could hardly talk. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but the police were persistent and focused on getting the information.”I ask Carol if she will now change her running schedule. “I won’t be going down there that early in the morning, and I’ll be going when I know that there are lots of people around. But I’m bitter about that. I loved my morning run, watching the early morning sun. The solution can’t be that I can’t move around the city safely.”If she was willing to talk to me about the attack, why won’t she let me use her last name, I ask her. “I don’t want people calling me and having to tell the story over and over, but even the police suggested I do this interview. The more exposure we get, the better.”From her own perspective, Carol says, “I’m talking about it because attacks happen in areas we perceive to be very safe, and it’s a signal to other women [about] the importance of reporting this stuff. As humiliating as it is to have to talk about it, it gives you some closure by thinking you might prevent it from happening to someone else. As women we have to protect each other. You can’t prevent things from happening, but you don’t have to take it.”The after-effects of the attack, she tells me, include nervousness — “I’m afraid to have my back exposed, even in this restaurant [where we are having lunch]” — and maybe some surprise, since there are those who placed blame on the victim.”Some people have said, ‘You shouldn’t have been wearing headphones, you shouldn’t have been out so early in the morning, you shouldn’t have been alone.’ But that’s not the point,” she says. “Mostly I feel resentful. People are telling me that I shouldn’t be running on the waterfront, but isn’t my attacker the one who shouldn’t be running on the waterfront?”

by Sharon Dunn
 

David Foster

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“I just lost 20 pounds and …”

 From the

Sharon Dunn
“I just lost 20 pounds and …”
David Foster picks up the cheque.
‘Do you want to watch a little TV?” legendary music man David Foster asks, putting his feet up on the coffee table as he picks up the remote. I am in Foster’s suite at the Four Seasons Hotel for lunch; he is in Toronto being honoured by both the Canadian Walk of Fame and the Royal Conservatory.
“How about The View?” he asks politely. I tell him The View will be fine, but David Foster a couch potato? Who’d have thought?
“Are you hungry?” he asks.”Not really.”
“Me neither,” he says. This is supposed to be a lunch date interview but says Foster, “I just lost 20 pounds and I’m really happy about it and I don’t want to eat any junk — no bread, pasta, butter or dessert for four months, so it doesn’t leave too much, does it?”, he laughs. “But I do have sugar in my coffee.”, he adds. The ageless 52-year-old Foster continues: “I hardly drink, and I work out. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hold off on lunch for as long as I can.”(Thank God I’ve already eaten.)

“You know, your wife did better with you than with Elvis,” I tell him. (Foster is married to Elvis Presley’s former girlfriend Linda Thompson.) “I wasn’t an Elvis fan,” he replies. “If it had been Paul McCartney, I’d be on her every day, you know — what was he like and all that. But I have grown to appreciate Presley’s music”, he says. When Foster mentions he’s interested in becoming premier of British Columbia, I say, “Are you out of your mind?”
“Maybe,” he laughs, “Gordon Campbell seems to be having a hard time lately, but I’d love to come home to B.C.”

For the moment, though, Foster has something else on his mind. “A protege of mine is on The View today,” he says. Aha! So there’s a reason we’re watching TV. “His name is Josh Groban, a kid I found when he was 17 years old [Groban is now 21]. I just made his album. It’s platinum in four months with no radio play, no tour, no video. He’s phenomenal. He’ll probably sell 50,000 albums from The View today. Every time he goes on TV, people go crazy.”

Soon The View’s Meredith Vieira is introducing Groban. “Excuse me,” says Foster politely as Josh takes to the stage amid wild applause and shouts, his voice making the TV studio sound like Carnegie Hall. “That’s pretty good for live,” marvels Foster, humming along with the TV and conducting his protege through the screen.”What kind of pants is he wearing?”, Foster asks, like a worried manager”.
“His hair’s a problem, all flat on top,” I say, getting into the act.
“The girls love his hair,” Foster says dismissively, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Can he hit this note? … Yup. Now hang on to this note, bud. Great. This guy’s gotten so polished,” Foster says enthusiastically. Groban also appeared on the finale of Ally McBeal. The response was so strong (8,000 e-mails) that he has been asked to return for the holiday episode of Ally McBeal airing Dec. 10.

“I write all his music,” Foster brags, proud as a father. Foster has four daughters. “I think the key with kids is not giving them too much,” he says. He continues,”remember when Roberto Benigni got his Oscar for ‘Life Is Beautiful’ and he said, ‘I want to thank my parents for the greatest gift of all: poverty.’ He was right.” Foster, who lost his father when he was just 18, says, “My dad was a yard superintendent. We had no money, but my upbringing [in Victoria] was incredible. It’s been 34 years since my dad died, and I just think about him all the time, every day.
“Over the last 20 years I’ve accumulated so much I’ve been able to take care of my mom and buy her the house.” But what about his children? “You mean your kids aren’t driving around L.A. in Mercedes and Porsches?”
“Absolutely not,” he insists. “My kids share a truck, and my plan is working. My 21-year-old, Sara, has her own show on MTV and she’s host of Entertainment Tonight. She got it all herself,” he adds proudly. “My kids have done very, very well.”

“So we’ll pretend we had lunch, right?” Foster asks with a laugh, as I get up to leave.
“Right,” I say. “But wait, who paid?”
“I did,” he adds quickly. The perfect gentleman.
“I knew you would,” I tell him appreciatively.
I sigh as I leave him after a wonderful visit and realize that I still love a man who insists on picking up the cheque.

by Sharon Dunn

Bobby Vee

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Mentioning Eminem may be a mistake

 From the

Sharon Dunn
Mentioning Eminem may be a mistake
Sixties pop star prefers youngsters like Johnny Cash

[Photo: Sharon Dunn, National Post]
Bobby Vee had his second gold record with Rubber Ball in 1960.

I’m meeting Bobby Vee at Pearson Airport on his way to Casino Rama in Barrie. Let me refresh your memory. Vee’s first hit was Devil or Angel in 1960 (when he was just 17). That was quickly followed by Rubber Ball (another million-seller), The Night Has a Thousand Eyes, Take Good Care of My Baby, and Come Back When You Grow up Girl, a pretty good string of hits for a teenager. Casino Rama gets all the old- timers. Paul Revere & The Raiders, David Cassidy and Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons are all there in the next few weeks. Bobby Vee — at the time performing with Fabian, another name from long ago — shows up with an entourage that just keeps coming. “This is my son Tommy”, he tells me. “And this is my son-in-law B.J. and my daughter Jenny. And this is my son Jeff [he does drums] and this is Keirsten — she’s a music student at the University of Auckland [Vee tells me that Keirsten is something like his second cousin on his mother’s side, twice-removed].” The Fargo, N.D., Sixties singing sensation is obviously a family man. The only person missing today is his wife, Karen, to whom he has been married for 39 years.

“I’d like to talk about Gordon Lightfoot,” Vee tells me first thing. “I got a Gordon Lightfoot DVD from one of my sons for Christmas.” I point out that Lightfoot is recovering from a serious illness. “He didn’t look good in that DVD,” Vee confides. The DVD was of a show that Lightfoot did in Reno a couple of years ago. “There was a lot of Canadian influence in North Dakota,” Vee explains. “I grew up listening to Lightfoot, but also Bob Dylan and James Taylor.” Vee, who still tours (mainly to England and Australia), says: “I’m a Midwest conservative kind of guy.” When asked his opinion of President Bush, Vee says unapologetically: “I like him. And I like the idea of people going on board and coming together. Let’s declare ourselves one way or the other.” This is maybe the first person I’ve talked to who isn’t afraid of a war.

“I’ll bet you made nothing for those hits,” I say, waiting for the inevitable sob story. There isn’t one. “I’ve done well,” he assures me. “I’ve invested well, in real estate.” Vee says he made about US$50,000 for each hit, the equivalent of about US$250,000 today. “Paltry,” I tell him. He points out that it was actually quite good, since it is the early Sixties we’re talking about. Vee, who now lives in Minnesota, says: “I lived in California for a time, but I just had to get out.” His life, he says, is great. “I have a production company, and I can perform and walk around with anonymity,” something he cherishes. “Not like Little Richard,” he says. “I ran into him in the airport not too long ago, and he was wearing a red suit with loads of jewellery, and someone turned around and said, ‘Isn’t that Chubby Checker?’ ” Vee, who even has a new album, laughs. “The name of my new album is ‘I wouldn’t change a thing.’ ” He assures me that best describes his life. But I wonder if anyone really wants to hear these Sixties sensations any more? I pose the question gently to Vee.”Two years ago I was doing a show at the London Palladium — it’s owned by Andrew Lloyd Webber,” he says. “Webber was there for the show, but when I looked out in the audience, guess who else I saw? Ron Wood,” he says triumphantly.”
“Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones?” I ask. Vee nods. “He came backstage afterwards and said he loved the shows, particularly the band, The Vees. As a matter of fact,” Vee adds, because of that night, Wood wrote some songs with my son Robbie who lives in California. Do you know who the No. 1 entertainer in all of North America was last year?” Vee asks me. I’m stumped. “Paul McCartney. And in the top ten were Bruce Springsteen, Elton John and The Rolling Stones. They’re all performers who have been around for 35 years.” When I ask him why he thinks young people still like the old fogies he says it’s because their music is “accessible — it’s simple music, not complicated.” Is there a young performer he admires? “Johnny Cash,” he says quickly.”
“I said young.”
“Stompin’ Tom?”, he asks. The truth is, he tells me, he’s stuck for an answer. “I don’t listen to the young performers,” he says. “Not by choice, I’m not exposed to it. My kids are in their thirties now. If they were younger I would be exposed to it.” What kind of music does he like? “Songs, stories, lyrics, melodies.”

He asks me what young performer I think he might like. When I suggest Eminem because I like him, second-cousin-on-his-mother’s-side-twice-removed Keirsten interrupts.”He could never take the language,” she says earnestly. I have to agree. Eminem might not be the thing for a Midwest conservative guy who loves Paul McCartney and George Bush. I tell him maybe he’d better stick with the young ‘uns, Johnny Cash and Gordon Lightfoot.

by Sharon Dunn

SAD

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Winter’s better with a palm tree

 From the

Sharon Dunn
Winter’s better with a palm tree
This miserable weather! I had to do something

[Photo: The Associated Press]
The signs of seasonal affective disorder include feeling tired but not being able to sleep, eating more (or less) and irritability.

I’ve been wondering why I’m feeling so depressed these days, forgetting to wear makeup, my hair askew, my thermal underwear poking out from under my cashmere sweater. I go around cursing my car (that won’t start), my salt-stained boots and my constantly damp and chilled feet. Even the outdoor hot tub I bought last year sits abandoned — it’s been too damn cold to walk out there and get into it. But last week, while tooling around one of my favourite stores (Home Depot), I saw a wonderful sight — palm trees, dozens of them — in the aisle between bathroom fixtures and two-by-fours. At first I thought it was a mirage. But it was the real thing, and for under $40 each. I bought one on the spot, transporting it to my family room, where I’ve taken to drinking pina coladas by the gallon underneath it.

Assuming I’m not the only one suffering, I call Rod Phillips, CEO and president of Warren Shepell Consultants Corp. (he was chief of staff to Toronto Mayor Mel Lastman from 1997 to 2000). “Everyone’s talking about the weather,” says Phillips. “It’s a Canadian thing. If you put three Canadians together, they’ll talk about three things, and one of them will be the weather.” Warren Shepell provides employee assistance — from nutrition advice and child care, to smoking cessation and mental-health problems — and he receives a large number of calls related to stress. “Every day we get 1,000 calls from people across the country,” says Phillips. “Twenty-five per cent of them deal with stress, anxiety and depression, and in January and February the numbers tend to go up. Seasonal affective disorder [SAD] has everything to do with shorter days, less light and colder temperatures.”

Phillips tells me that 5% of those who suffer from SAD will end up with clinical depression. “The rest of us will be affected negatively, but not to that point. I’m a fan of winter,” says Phillips, “but it’s so cold this year …”Although the company is worldwide, we don’t seem to be getting any calls from people complaining about warm weather,” says Phillips. People often don’t realize the cause of the anxiety they’re feeling, he adds. “They don’t know it’s the weather. Part of dealing and coping with it is understanding what’s causing it.” If you’re wondering if you might have SAD, I’m told the signs include feeling tired but not being able to sleep, eating more, or eating less (in other words a break from the normal routine), and irritability.

“Your palm tree is a good idea,” says psychologist Gerry Smith, VP, organizational health, at Warren Shepell, “because you’re redirecting your mind to something completely different, almost a means of escape. You think of the sun and the sand, and of warm winds caressing your body. And of course other things come to mind,” he says. As for the pina coladas, he asks if I add alcohol. I tell him that I do (with a vengeance). “Drinking alcohol is not a healthy way to deal with depression,” he reminds me. “Alcohol is a depressant, so you shouldn’t drink when you’re depressed. As a matter of fact, self-medicating during difficult times is one of the worst things you can do.”

So how should we handle it? “Give yourselves goals to look forward to,” says Smith. “For example, plan for the next vacation, spend as much time as you can outdoors on the sunny days and enjoy the outdoors as much as you can. Encourage the body to soak up whatever sunshine there is.” It’s also important, he says, “to teach people how to relax and not get too uptight about life.” Do yoga, relaxation and stretching techniques, massage and aromatherapy. “Spouses and partners can learn massage techniques,” says Smith, “and introduce deep breathing into your cycle of work, do deep-breathing exercises, major stretching [tensing and relaxing]. That’s the one that works for me,” he says. “For example, if you wake up stressed in the middle of the night, go lie on the floor, and do full body exercises.” And for quick relief, “make a tight fist and then release it.”

If symptoms recur every day over a four-week period, and you notice an alteration in your lifestyle then, says Smith, “you are probably clinically depressed and need professional help.” The effect of all this winter weather at work, Smith says, is “you’ll find raised levels of irritability and lower levels of productivity.” He says that employers should take the season into consideration. “Don’t set expectations about being to work on time [during rough weather]. Be flexible and understanding.” The bad news, says Smith, is that the blues can last until April or May when the weather finally breaks. “It’s the grey skies that wreak the biggest havoc on our emotions, worse than the snow or cold,” he says. He points out, however, that those living in even darker climates, like the Arctic, where the sun barely shines in winter, show no problems. “Probably because they’re used to it,” says Smith. “But if you or I moved there, we’d have a problem. They socialize much better, and they fill their life with activities.” So get out and be with people, Smith advises, like true northerners do.

I’ve taken Smith’s advice and have switched to drinking virgin pina coladas, but I must admit the palm tree now looks kind of silly sprawled beside the fireplace, with gloves and boots hanging on it to dry. Funny, that didn’t bother me when I was adding rum to my drinks.

by Sharon Dunn

Colleen Roberts

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“This Michael Jackson stuff has got to go”

 From the

Sharon Dunn
This Michael Jackson stuff has got to go
Collector selling hundreds of memorabilia items on eBay

[Photo: Carlo Allegri, National Post]
Colleen Roberts is selling off her Michael Jackson memorabilia collection to raise some cash for a demo tape of her voice talents.

Colleen Roberts has hundreds of pieces of Michael Jackson memorabilia and she’s selling the entire collection this week on eBay. “I made the decision to sell in December,” she says, adding that this is a good time to do it because Jackson is so popular right now.
“He is?”, I ask.
“His song Billie Jean is No. 1 in New York clubs again,” she tells me, “and his visibility has soared because of the recent British documentary by journalist Martin Bashir”. Roberts herself is no stranger to the media: Two years ago she published Loving a Legend: Memoirs of a Mistress Part I, about her 30-year relationship with singer José Feliciano.

Roberts displayed her entire collection at Gretzky’s restaurant last Friday, just before the auction began on eBay. Most of it dates from the 1983-84 period, when the pop star was at the peak of his powers. There are red-and-black Thriller jackets in several sizes, Jackson’s famous glitter glove, a Jackson Viewmaster, even bottles of Michael Jackson cologne. Her accumulation of Jacksoniana started quite by accident, she tells me. She used to collect robots, the most valuable of which was Robbie from Forbidden Planet. While searching for a companion for Robbie, she found herself drawn to a Michael Jackson doll. Roberts, who sells antiques at the St. Lawrence Market, explains her attraction like this: “When you’re in antiques, everything is dark. The doll was so bright.”

Roberts thinks the most valuable items are black-and-white photographs (worth about $100 each), including one of Jackson on the set of the Pepsi commercial where he later burned his hair. After agents’ fees and eBay charges, Roberts, 62, hopes to have raised enough money to finance a promotional tape and video featuring her “voice talents.” She gives me a demonstration of her most striking voice talent, and I jump back, alarmed. Remember the voice of the demon in The Exorcist? It still scares me so much I refuse to have it on in my house. Well, Roberts can reproduce that gutteral rasp exactly. “My voice scares kids,” she tells me proudly. I’ve got news for her: It’s not just kids.Her hope is to be featured in movies requiring that dark, evil growl.

She is taking voice lessons through the Learning Annex from Bob Cook, manager of audio productions at Citytv, so after I leave Gretzky’s, I give him a call to see if he thinks her talent can take her anywhere. “It’s very unusual,” says Cook, “in the sense that I’ve never heard a voice like this before.” When he first heard her guttural sounds, he recalls marvelling, “Where did that come from?” But is such a voice marketable? “What she can do with something like that,” he says, “is expect that it would be a ‘request voice’ — for example, she won’t be reading bank commercials. She should give her tape to animation houses, for cartoons, Monster Inc. and shows like that,” he says. Before I left Roberts, I had asked her if her scary voice has ever come in handy? “I went on a date years ago at the Yacht Club and I overheard my date talking about me,” she says, “so I walked around all night using that voice. Anyway, he never called me again.” As far as Michael Jackson is concerned, Roberts says she can relate a great deal to him: “He’s travelling in his fantasies and is still a child.” And how’s it going with José Feliciano?”, I ask. I broke up with him last year,” she says.

by Sharon Dunn