A Frank Tribute

Like many, I am a fortunate member of the extended family of the dearly departed, Angelo Frank Ruffo. 

Our introduction was a very long time ago. I was 17 and he would have been around 41.

Don’t worry, this story does not have a Kevin Spacey kind of twist. 

I came to see the “Gay 90s Show” at the Cambridge Motor Hotel’s Showplace Dinner Theatre – AKA The MoHo. I was there with Lou, who at the time, was auditioning for the show. 

Angelo had transitioned to “A Frank” by then and he was the star of the show. The master of ceremonies, with his show stopper “Buddy Can You Spare a Dime”. He was also producer, director, choreographer, writer and everything but head waiter. He was in his element. That Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr, Rat-Pack genre, Vegas showman element. He and the cast were amazing. 

Lou got the part and I went back again and again wishing one day I could be a part of it all.

About a year later there was an  opening in the “Roaring Twenties” show and I managed to get an audition. It was held at the home of the young and talented Mr Doug Balfour. I made an embarrassing, abysmal attempt at Sondheim’s “Losing my Mind”. After that Doug, Frank and I were pretty sure I would never get into the show. Frank was perfectly frank about it.

But all was not lost. A few months later, while Frank was away on a summer contract in the Muskokas, he left Kitty Meredith to host the show, and my musical theatre fairy god-sister, Kimberley Timlock aka ‘Madge’, to take care of everything else. There was an opening and Madge coached me through singing “Forty-Second Street” well enough to impress Kitty and I was in.  

When Frank came back in the fall I was holding my own in the show and by then a pretty good waiter. But he was pissed, and made no attempts to hide it. He gave Madge a hard time and he rode me constantly giving notes and corrections after every performance or every rehearsal. It was like being nibbled to death by ducks. Eighteen year old me thought he was a total knob.

The following Spring was the birth of “The Swinging Forties” show. From the Twenties show cast Frank made only me audition and begrudgingly, he kept me on. 

It was during this rehearsal process that he and I began to grow a mutual respect for each other, and I think it helped that Madge was passing me dance-captain duties, and the dining room manager, Ma Potter was praising my waiting skills, and I was becoming a better performer.

The forties show went on for a number of years and afterwards there was a string of abbreviated “tribute” musicals. I was in Damn Yankees, Gypsy, and The Pyjama Game, and later I ran the follow-spot for Oklahoma. 

By the time I was 22 Frank and I were hanging out and confiding in each other on the regular. I became his personal tech support when he added a computer to his somewhat hordie Seaton Street apartment inventory. 

At some point we started going clubbing together. Taking turns being the other’s wingman. 

During a two year period in the eighties when I took a full-time desk job downtown, I would make up a Friday afternoon doctor or dentist’s appointment and Frank and I would meet up after 3 and hit some clubs, drinking beer and critiquing the late afternoon/early evening performers. We’d be sauced before 8 pm and call it quits, but a few times after having a nap we’d call each other the same evening and meet up to go dancing.

Over the years Frank and I worked together in Sudbury, Grand Bend, on Fruit Cocktails, and at Rainbow Stage. I was a principle on the planning committee for his 60^th birthday bash. 

He and I drove to Winnipeg together for a Rainbow Stage contract. During that trip Frank taught me to drive standard stick-shift. He started me in a parking lot then surprised me with directions that lead us right onto the highway. That whole trial by fire thing is so on-brand for Frank.

After I moved to the west coast in 1995 Frank and I emailed, mailed, and phoned each other  regularly. When I came to Ontario I came mostly to see Frank. I always stayed with him and it became our annual thing for years. 

Frank saw me through four husbands and a wife. 

Over the years Frank started to join me at my family’s Bergsma Boxing Day Extravaganas. A fifty-plus holiday affair with my dad, my siblings their spouses, their kids and grand-kids. A chaotic hot buffet delivery in a St Catharines banquet hall. He became family to my family.  

I can’t imagine who I would be were it not for Frank. I don’t want to.

If I could have one last word I would let him know how much he has come to mean to me and how much I appreciate all that he is. 

And ask, won’t you please say hello to the folks that we know:

Madge, Pat Dawson, Karen Hazzard, Steven Wilbee, Ted Pearson, Warna and Jack Timlock, Kitty, Katie and all the rest. All of our extended family there with you. 

And how about you all start working on the review show to end all review shows. 

And, Tell ‘em I won’t be long. And when I get there I can run the follow-spot while I rehearse and work into the show.

Angelo Frank Ruffo | July 27, 1938 – October 7, 2023