Shimon Aviel
1946-2021

Shimon passed away suddenly on February 15, 2021. Born in Israel, he began his journey in acting and directing in high school productions. Acting in films, while pursuing a bachelor’s degree in science at the Weizmann Institute. Worked as a high school math and science teacher. He went on to establish a theatre school at Ben Gurion University. Later, he moved to Cape Town, South Africa, where he taught high school and was the theatre director. Finally settling in Montreal, Quebec. Adding to his repertoire: acting workshop coach, international moot court mentor, and founder/talent agent of Aviel Talent (January 1992-2021).

Shimon performed with Lyric Theatre, Dora Wasserman’s Yiddish Theatre and Alexander Hausvater. He spoke fondly and proudly of his memorable lead role in Last of the Red Hot Lovers.

In acting On Camera workshops, he would often entertain us with reenactments of the many roles he had played or burst into a song from Fiddler on the Roof to name a few. A few of us, his clients/students, called ourselves “The Shimonettes” because Shimon believed in us and always gave his support. We worked hard but also had fun in his workshops. He was a mentor to many, including Ernie Barbarash who went on to become a Hollywood film producer and director for Lionsgate. Shimon influenced careers of Hollywood entertainment lawyers, James Feldman and William Mercer (talent manager). As talent agent, Shimon mentored local/beginners such as Jennifer Finnigan, Melissa Galianos and Nicholas Wright.

Shimon himself had a strong presence on film including his role in Mother Night (1996) with Nick Nolte as Guard Bernard Liebman.

Shimon was a devoted and proud family man to grandchildren, Sarah and Ethan, children Josef, Ayala and Shira, and wife Tova.

I miss our lengthy phone conversations and the fun Hannukah/Christmas parties.

 Your “Shimonettes” know the show must go on and we thank you for always being there for all of us. It was an honour to know you. RIP Shimon, my mentor and my friend.

Donna Byrne

Lawrence (Zahab) Dane
1937 – 2022

“MY OBIT”

I made my debut on the world stage On April 3^rd, 1937, in Masson, Quebec, a quiet little hamlet located on the north shore of the Ottawa River.  Born on the kitchen table, so I’ve been told.  I know, I was there, but, come on, I was too busy bonding, bawling and wailing, so I wasn’t taking notes.

On top of being blessed with a loving Mother and Father I had the added benefit of being the youngest of six kids which made it a slam dunk.  I had spoiled written all over me.  From there life could only get better – and it did.

Between then and my exit stage left on March 21, 2022,  I had the good fortune of becoming a member of a highly respected brotherhood of Canadian performers where I got to meet and work with hundreds of other struggling fellow actors.   They were all an inspiration to me.

I’m especially grateful to those wonderful actors who blazed a trail throughout the entertainment centers around the world.  They made it so much easier for us newcomers, when we were asked, “Where are you from?” we proudly proclaimed that we were from Canada.  The doors opened wide.

Along the way over those many years, I’ve experienced highs and lows in the acting profession.  Who hasn’t?

I’ve worked with some of the greats, near-greats and sadly – a few ingrates. 

I travelled the world.

In the midst of all that, I hit the jackpot.  I met and married my wonderful loving and supportive wife Laurel.  Bonus.  She deserves a Medal for Bravery.

In summing up, I could only describe my life’s journey as a grand life well spent.  I leave behind those who know I loved them and whose love I felt they returned in spades.

So. what happens next?  I can’t say for sure, but I am hopeful.  If you can believe what critics say, I shamelessly quote what the London Sunday Times Television critic wrote in his review of my first appearance on British T V in October, 1967, –

“An actor new to me, Lawrence Dane, impressed as one whom we should certainly see again.”

I’m working on it.  See you around.

Lawrence (Zahab) Dane

David Fox, CM
1941 – 2021

Enthralling, volcanic, inventive, quixotic, tender, shattering. A Titan.

Foxy was a sudden, full-bodied explosion of laughter.

David Fox was North.

His chiseled face, blue eyes and vulnerable bravado made him striking in countless roles on screen, but there was no question that his life’s passion was in Canadian theatre. Upon joining Paul Thompson’s collective creations in the early ‘70s, he became one of its chief progenitors.

The late Martha Henry said of him, “He brings his own air on stage with him.” Everyone who shared the stage knew what it was to be held there in a rarified atmosphere, sharing that air, his laser eye-lock, and that crackling, mesmerizing Fox vitality.

It made scant difference whether it was a well-paid gig (like the national tour of The Drawer Boy), his three one-off leading man stints in Stratford, or if it was a co-op at the Fringe, improv on a streetcar, a premiere at the Backspace, Extra-Space, Mainspace, in a park in Brockville, or an auction barn, or if it meant driving up to North Bay or Flin-Flon, or to take part in a new play reading in a shed on the dark side of the moon – David would hurtle his entire being into the challenge. And it did not matter if the play worked or not, if it was a full house or there was only a single soul watching, David would launch his (oft-reluctant) fellow actors out for a second curtain call with the pumped-fist gesture of a hockey player who’d just scored to win the Cup.

In a modest acceptance speech for his Dora-award winning performance of Angus in The Drawer Boy, David proclaimed: “I’ve spent my entire career in the Messy Middle of Canadian theatre, and I want my epitaph to read: ‘This is not a workshop!’”

All told, David may well have been the most honest, inquisitive, generous, maddening, inexhaustible, double-daring stoked furnace of an actor we shall ever know.

We, both audiences and actors alike, will now enter the theatre without him.  But…if a gun ever fails to fire onstage, I know we will hear Fox’s voice bellowing down from the northern heavens: “KA-BLAMMO!”

Our beloved David leaves his sons, Jason and Gavin, of whom he was in awe, legions of broken hearts, and a goldmine of memories.

Brooke Johnson

Martha Henry
1939 – 2022

“Mon apartement!” Martha Henry, as Ranyevskaya, exclaimed as she swept into her Paris apartment. This was an improvisation assignment John Hirsch had given to us second-year students at the National Theatre School.  We were to choose a character from The Cherry Orchard and place him/her in an invented situation. Martha had imagined Ranevskaya returning to Paris after selling The Cherry Orchard. She had draped herself in a shawl and her first words were in French.

I was dazzled. That was in Montreal in 1961.

In 1998, when I directed Martha as Ranyevskaya in The Cherry Orchard at Stratford, there was no French, no “ Mon apartement,” but a woman sitting  on a rolled-up carpet after the sale of the orchard, crushed by ineffable loss.

When she played Princess in Sweet Bird of Youth, also at the Tom Patterson Theatre in Stratford, a long “runway” of a stage, she wanted to play the whole first act, wearing only the bedspread, which covered the bed she had been laying in with Chance Wayne, played by Geordie Johnson. To cover both the actress and the stage, designer Astrid Janson gave us a burgundy velvet bedspread of remarkable dimensions. It required negotiation by the two actors in that act, Geordie and Martha. Much negotiation, as it spread across the stage. Geordie named it Bernice.

Martha’s work with The Birmingham Conservatory for Actors and The Langham Directing Program were among Martha’s proudest achievements. So many of those students came to her memorial. They were tearful, grateful and wonderfully rude singing a Newfoundland ditty she adored. I know the rigour, imagination and heart that guided her exploration of text has now been passed on.

And then last summer, Albee’s Three Tall Women. Alarmingly weak when she would arrive at the theatre, she gave, every single time, a blazing performance of such wit and sorrow that it remains indelible. She finished the run. A few days after the last show, she died. On her own terms. 

She was a mentor, colleague, and my friend.

Diana Leblanc

PS. In the current production of Richard III, now on stage at the Tom Patterson, directed by Antoni Cimolino, Colm Feore wears a coronation robe with an impressive train of burgundy velvet. I think they used Bernice for part of it.

Mal Isaac
1937- 2022

An early member of ACTRA, Mal Isaac spent most of his career in Saskatchewan but was respected far beyond the boundaries of the province. His love of sports found him venturing on a broadcasting career at the age of 21 when he began working at radio stations in Weyburn, Yorkton, Regina, and Sudbury, Ontario.

Mal went on to be a sportswriter at the Saskatoon Star Phoenix and Regina Leader-Postbefore joining CBC Sports in 1974 as both a radio and television sportscaster. He contributed to numerous sporting event planning committees, such as the Commonwealth Games, 2001 Memorial Cup, World Junior Hockey Championships, Curling bonspiels and multiple Grey Cups. Mal was fortunate to be inducted into the Canadian Football Hall of Fame and Museum; Football Reporters of Canada wing in 2003. 

Rob Vanstone, the Sports Editor of the Regina Leader-Post wrote of him, “Mal Isaac extracted every precious second from 84 years that were a gift to everyone who knew and loved him. He survived five heart attacks, two quadruple bypass surgeries, one heart transplant and a stroke — all with nary a word of self-pity. He wouldn’t engage in self-congratulations, either, even when so many of us were lined up to applaud him. We will miss him so much.”

I met Mal at a [Regina] Pats game not long before he retired. He was not sitting in the press box. He was sitting up in the nose-bleed section taking in the game. He was a truly decent man and expected that of others.

Mal is survived by his soulmate Vivian, his children Erin (Eddie), Scott (Michele) and Kim (Paul), and his grandchildren Abby, Gillian, Andrew, Malcolm, Zoe, Evan, Mitchell and Taylor.

Alan Bratt

Jason Joniec
1974 – 2022 

Catherine Marshall
1980 – 2022

When Jay (Jason) Joniec and Cat (Catherine) Marshall headed out for one last day at the beach, they did not set out to be heroes. But heroes do not look for acts of heroism to perform, they simply respond. They help costumers through doorways with heavy clothing racks, like Jay, or give an infectious smile to someone having a bad day, like Cat. Small, individual acts of kindness and a deep love of life made both Cat and Jay unforgettable to all of their family, friends and colleagues on set and off.

Cat, a beautiful visual artist, was a flight attendant for Air Labrador before joining our on-set family. Her joy and positivity spread like wildfire wherever she went.

Jay was a wanderer – he was the kind of guy who would find a niche and wiggle into it. He travelled extensively, always returning home to Brantford for a fix of his mom’s “amazing” cooking.

On February 11, 2022, while vacationing in Ecuador, Jay and Cat saw two children being pulled into the open ocean by a riptide. In a grand and auspicious act of courage, they responded, swimming into the surf and pushing the children back to the safety of the beach. Tragically, they were overcome by the sea and gave their lives to save two others.

Cat and Jay would not want us to remember them as heroes, but as friends, helpers, joyous people and lovers of life. They are missed.

Shereen J. Airth

Marguerite McNeil
1935 – 2021

Our much-loved actress, director and teacher Marguerite MacNeil has passed away. It is still hard to believe for her sisters Deanna and Laraine, her nieces and nephews, her longtime housemate Carroll Godsman, her dear friends, and her theatre and film families. Life with Dee Dee was phantasmagorical, as she would say when she was delighted with something. She was born in Glace Bay, NS, had six siblings in a household full of music and a love of the arts. At age 18, she and her sister Carol moved to New York City to study acting and perform in Off-Off-Broadway productions. They both fell in love and married actors while living there.

Dee Dee was a storyteller both onstage and off. She shared tales of the vibrant East Village in the ‘60s, such as meeting Bob Dylan and James Earl Jones. She performed in Samuel Beckett’s play Happy Days in London’s West End and continued her career in Toronto before returning to Glace Bay in the late ‘70s. She founded The North Wall Theatre in Glace Bay, mentoring many people while creating long-lasting friendships with artists of all ages. I met Dee Dee when Bryden MacDonald, Mary Lou Martin and I wrote a soap opera parody called Our Miserable Lives. 

Over three decades, Dee Dee appeared with most Atlantic theatre companies. She played in Neptune Theatre’s productions Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and The Weekend Healer in which I had the honour of playing “Linda Lou” to her “Betina.” Her film credits include the original My Bloody Valentine, Marion Bridge, The Scarlett Letter andThe Divine Ryans. In 2011, she won the ACTRA Maritimes Award for Outstanding Performance in Rhonda’s Party. Her wildest fame came while she was in her 80s, playing her “Margarite” character in the iconic hit series, The Trailer Park Boys.

Both generous and irascible, she was a force of nature who could easily command an entire room for great lengths of time. Our world will not be the same without our Marguerite. We miss her terribly and will remember her well. “Keep working,” she would say. “It is important. The work is important.” She was an original.

Kathryn MacLellan

Candy Palmater
1968 – 2021

Farewell, Candy Palmater.

December 25, 2021, will never be forgotten. A great sadness happened in the early morning hours on this day; the passing of Candy Palmater. The world darkened abruptly without Candy’s glorious light, and her love for all people and for life in general.

Though she had many ailments most of her life, they never impeded her impeccable work ethic. As time sped by, she embraced the assistance of her cane, and at times her wheelchair, but she was never apologetic nor embarrassed, nor was she compromising.  Every set, every stage, every hotel room, every studio she graced, accommodations were made without issue, and inclusion for everyone with mobility needs was birthing.

Candy’s wide achievements on television, radio, comedy stages/festivals, acting in shows such as The Trailer Park Boys, Run the Burbs, The Candy Show, Forgive Me, Call me Fitz, Sex & Violence,and other shows such as, co-hosting CTV’s The Social, The Candy Palmater Show on CBC Radio, The Next Chapter, and Because News, just to name a few. Her body of work was vast. We had many new projects coming in 2022…she just completed the content for her first book, “Running Down a Dream, coming in fall 2022 with Harper Collins Canada, which will be published posthumously.

She travelled the globe speaking about love, kindness, self-acceptance and equity. She emotionally and educationally impacted thousands of people. Even at her comedy and hosting events, she managed to sneak into everyone’s psyche, impacting learning by way of understanding ourselves in this game of life.

If you ever heard Candy speak, either publicly, at the government level, as a proud supporter of unions, teaching at college and university, or during her 10-year position as senior management Mi’Kmaq services for the Department of Education in NS, she treated every single person fairly, respectfully (no wonder she left the practice of law, where she was the first Mi’Kmaq person to be hired by a private firm. Candy was also the first Indigenous person to graduate as valedictorian of her law class at Dalhousie University), but she kept running down her dream. She is deeply missed.

Two famous quotes by Candy: “You are Enough.” and “You can never have too much Candy.”

What a loss. I miss her.

Denise Tompkins

Kenneth Welsh
1942 – 2022

Remembering Kenneth Welsh

Your life before I knew you: Edmonton. NTS. Stratford. Hamlet. Chicago. The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. New York The Real Thing. Frankie and Johnny in the Clair De Lune. Mike Nichols. Kathy Bates. Kevin Kline. Glenn Close.

The first time I saw your work: Empire, Inc. Terrifying. Riveting.

Again, both things in Love and Hate. Then beautiful, soft, and deeply moving in Margaret’s Museum.

The epic movie and television career. From Twin Peaks to Cate Blanchett’s father in The Aviator to The Kids in the Hall last year (and your genuine joy at the cast knowing who you were).  All the awards hiding in your basement. IMDB says you graced 249 productions. And they have no inkling of your stage career.

A legend.

Some of our own collaborations: your singular Standup Shakespeare. Your definitive Jacob in Leaving Home and Of The Fields Lately. Under Milk Wood (possibly the greatest performance I’ve ever witnessed). You and Eric Peterson in The Sunshine Boys. Your Player King in Rozencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. A Child’s Christmas in Wales. A Christmas Carol. All of The Coal Mine Theatre salons you performed in for us.

Incredibly, all the above things pale for me compared to our friendship. To being your friend.

The way you called my name whenever you saw me. Always with an exclamation point.

The way you took me in at my Nadir and let my healing begin.

The way you were with my kids, Theo, Rosie and Henry.

The way you read at Diana’s and my wedding.

The way you welcomed us every weekend of the pandemic to swim and have lunch, and how Henry never departed without a HotWheel from “the bucket of cars!”

The way you spoke of your son. The way you spoke of Lynne.

The way you played Happy Birthday to me on the trumpet over the phone, every year without fail, and the hundreds of phone calls we had, each of us Glenn Goulding the other whenever we needed to.

The way we spoke of Shakespeare together, the way we loved him.

Your bottomless well of stories, speeches and songs, and your laugh.

Your sadness at the sad things.

Your never-ceasing-grasps at something higher than what we are.

This picture is the very last time I saw you. It is like you knew. Knowing you, you did. I wish I did.

I love you, Ken. Shakespeare is lucky to meet you.

Ted Dykstra