OLM: I see you’re sporting your signature white shirt and black jacket. Who are you wearing? RM: “I won’t say who I’m wearing, but I will say where I buy it—Korry’s (Clothiers to Gentlemen) on Danforth Avenue. And that’s not because what I wear is outrageous, just that I want to give Korry’s the bump.”
OLM: How did you develop the look? RM: “I’ve always liked wearing a suit, and if you wear a classic-cut men’s
suit you’ll always be in style. I remember hosting the Junos and they wanted to dress me. At the time everyone was wearing suits that went to the knees, with these bedazzled arms. I said, ‘I’m not wearing this.’ And they said, ‘This is very hot right now!’ And I said, ‘Five years from now, I will regret this, because it looks like a woman’s housecoat.’ So I guess I’m not fashion-forward; I’m fashion-consistent.”
OLM: You never got your high school diploma? RM: “I don’t have many regrets in life, but that’s a big one. Not because of the consequences—it turned out there were no consequences, other than not going to university, which is something I would have liked to do. I just regret not having figured out how school worked, because the evidence suggests that had I applied myself, I would have gotten through, because the marks were there. I don’t make a point of talking about it, though, because when I was in grade 10, I’d get very excited when hearing something like ‘the head of General Motors never finished high school.’ And you start to use it to justify why you aren’t working or paying attention. So I wouldn’t want to be used as an example by anyone.
OLM: What do you consider your biggest break? RM: “The biggest was when I was doing a one-man show at the Great
“
That is the end game - to have a piece of Northern Ontario, with a lake and a comfortable chair. To me, that’s absolute happiness.
66 I outdoorlifestylemagazine.com
”
Canadian Theatre Company in Ottawa, which sounds very impressive, except that it was actually an old garage that sat like 80 people. The show was called Show Me the Button, I’ll Push It, or Charles Lynch Must Die. Charles Lynch was very much alive at the time and a very respected journalist and former war correspondent. And here I was, this snot-nosed 19-year-old. We went on television together to debate the Meech Lake Accord, and I started yelling, because I wasn’t really in any position to debate anything with Charles Lynch. And we became a bit of a sensation. He loved my show and would talk it up. He called himself the Salman Rushdie of Newfoundland—that I’d put out a fatwa on him! While I was doing that show, in another part of the country there was another one-person show opening, a co-production between a theatre company in Vancouver, Toronto and Ottawa. They’d all put a lot of money into it and it was going to have a substantial run. But it didn’t work out for technical reasons, so suddenly all those theatres had a hole in their seasons and needed a one-man show, and I went from an 80-seat theatre to playing the Factory Theatre in Toronto for a month, then a full run in Ottawa and Vancouver—stuff normally booked years in advance. That helped make my career.”
OLM: You’ve been part of winning 25 Geminis, but in 2014, you were appointed an Officer of the Order of Canada. Where does that rank? RM: “It’s something I’m most proud of, and something I certainly didn’t see coming. Before that, the greatest night of my life was probably at the Gemini Awards in 1995 when This Hour Has 22 Minutes won best comedy show and best writing in our first season, and we all won for best cast.” OLM: Did you ever have your IQ tested? RM: “Oh God, no. In fact, when I was a kid, my mother was vehement-
ly opposed to anyone having their IQ tested. She worked in adolescent mental health and she probably didn’t want to burden me with a low IQ.” Continued on page 97