FOR PETE'S SAKE: Traynor, the now 56-year-old local legend, will be feted and celebrated Saturday at Song Bird Music. ``I didn't fancy myself an electronic genius,'' he says. ``I was a three-chord bass player. But I knew what the players wanted.'' Veteran axemen acknowledge contribution of rock tech pioneer
Traynor: A lad and his magic amp
By Christopher Hume - Toronto Star Entertainment Reporter
IT WASN'T easy being a rocker in Toronto in the 1950s. Hair was short, radio played nothing but ``Moon in June,'' and bars had separate entrances for men and ladies with escorts.
Just getting equipment was nearly impossible. When Pete Traynor bought his first Fender bass and amplifier in the mid-'50s, there was only one other like it in the whole city.
If he had the time, he got the gig; three or four a night, every night. Pete thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Then the amp blew up.
Amps blew up a lot back then. Still do. But technology has progressed enormously since those prehistoric days of tubes and transistors. Back then, you fixed your stuff yourself. At least Traynor did.
It meant you got pretty handy with a soldering iron, oscilloscope and a screwdriver. By the time the Beatles invaded Toronto in 1964, Traynor was the guy all the local rock musicians turned to for help with their equipment.
Traynor Amps became the mainstay of the city's suddenly exciting music scene. They were the soundbox of the '60s; Toronto's answer to Marshall, Fender and Vox, those hallowed names so closely connected to the history of rock 'n' roll.
Contemporary bands like to make a big deal about playing unplugged; they have forgotten how hard it was to get hooked up in the first place.
And now, 30-plus years later, Pete Traynor finds himself cast in the unlikely role of pioneer, a legend in his own time, maker of myths as well as equipment.
That's why Pete Traynor Day is happening this Saturday at Song Bird Music, 801 Queen St. W.
``He deserves to be honored,'' says organizer John Bride, guitarist with the Cameo Blues Band. ``I thought we should have this day and this award, the Pete Traynor Award of Excellence and Funkiness.''
If he gets the date right, and remembers, Traynor should be at Song Bird to accept the tributes. Not that he's forgetful or aloof, just disorganized, shall we say, off in a world of his own.
That's easy when you're up in the rolling country north of Toronto where Traynor lives with his second wife, Susan, and her grown daughter Amanda. Now 56, he is an aging nerd from the Popular Mechanics age. His hair remains defiantly long, and a cigarette is never far from his lips. Waving his arms and grinning wickedly, this is Mr. Wizard the morning after.
``You've gotta remember,'' Traynor explains, ``in those days there was nothing around. I didn't fancy myself an electronic genius. I was a three-chord bass player. But I knew what the players wanted. I'd hear all the top guys in Toronto trying out the stuff; to me it was a no-brainer.''
According to Bob (the Rabbit) Abbott, who managed Long & McQuade music store between 1963 and '78, ``Pete was the kind of guy you could talk to. When you wanted to know about technical stuff, you went to him. In 1963, '64, '65 and '66, he was the guru of amplifiers.''
Mandala guitarist Domenic Troiano agrees. ``Up to then, there was no one in town to talk to. He's a brilliant guy and his amps were great, on a par with anything out there. Our whole band used his equipment. ``As a kid I used to go in Long & McQuade and ask, `Why? Why? Why?' And he'd always have answers. Eventually, we used to test new equipment for him. It was always, `You gotta try this, you gotta try that.' It wasn't just a business.''
Traynor started out as a bassist and played in a gaggle of groups with names like Roy Hawkley and the Dynaflows and the Fabulous Fables. At one time, he played lead guitar in an outfit called Johnny Rhythm and the Suedes that included Robbie Robertson. There was also a stint with Rompin' Ronnie Hawkins.
When Traynor started building amps at Long & McQuade in 1963, he had already been doing it for 15 years.
``I went to Las Vegas with the Fables and we had a hit,'' Pete recalls. ``Then the band fell apart. I returned to Toronto, broke and ready to shoot myself. Then I got a job at Long & McQuade. They knew that I was weird, but that I could fix this s---.
``When other guys heard I was back in town, they all wanted amps. I made five. That took two weeks and by then there were orders for 100 more.''
At first, the equipment was made by hand in the workshop above the store at 803 Yonge St. As Bride tells it, ``Traynor's amps were always just a little cheaper and more reliable. Everybody had one.''
Everybody meant the Ugly Ducklings, Mandala, James Gang, Bush, David Clayton Thomas and the Shays, Goddo, Cameo Blues Band . . . The sound of Toronto rock was the sound of Traynor equipment.
``My Marshall was always blowing up, so I got a Traynor,'' Bride reminisces. ``It was a cool little thing, somewhere between Marshall and Fender. The best thing was that it was made in town.''
And talk about rugged. To test the strength of his products, Traynor would throw them from the roof of a three-storey building.
``That way I knew for sure,'' he says. ``If it didn't work when the tubes were replaced, we knew there was something wrong. Amps on stage have to be able to fall that far. I made each one that way.
``Nowadays, you can't afford that kind of quality,'' claims Tim Dudley, a Song Bird electronics technician. ``We often have equipment brought in that's 20 years old and it still has the original tubes. All the parts are the best. Music in Toronto couldn't exist without Traynor p.a. systems. They're everywhere.
``So many kids today really, really dig Traynor equipment. It's cheap and good and now it's cool. It's crossed over that line.''
Despite the Digital Revolution, tube technology is popular once again. Companies in China and Russia continue to churn them out and old Traynors have acquired new life.
Maybe it's not like it was back in the '60s, when Hogtown suddenly found itself the centre of the action. When John Lennon appeared at the Rock 'n' Roll Revival in September of 1969, he, Eric Clapton and Klaus Voorman, bassist and sometimes Beatle sideman, played at Varsity Stadium in front of a wall of Traynor speakers and amps.
``I still remember John Lennon coming up to me and asking for a mike with a cable long enough to reach from the stage to the dressing room,'' says Traynor. ``Yoko Ono was in a bag and they dragged her out on stage making these really awful sounds. They were smart people doing silly things.''
But Traynor got Lennon the cable he needed and Ono's screeching could be heard around the world.
In 1976, when Pete left Long & McQuade, or Yorkville Sound, as its parent company is called, he sold his share and took off for Nova Scotia.
By the time he returned, for the second time, the world, let alone Toronto, was a different place. These days, Pete does his tinkering on a computer.
``The Internet's going to be interesting when the computers hooked up to it get good,'' he opines. ``It's amazing what can be done now, but back in those days . . . . What took tons and tons of equipment then has been reduced to a box the size of a suitcase.
``Back then, dance halls were just opening. The idea that you could make a buck selling entertainment to kids was just catching on. In the '50s and '60s, there were 50,000 jobs and five bands. Now there are 50,000 bands and five jobs. ``We were bad. All we needed was a case of Old Sailor and two-four of beer.''
Aside from a stereo system that can reduce the human eardrum to mush, there's little evidence around the Traynors' home of his former life. No autographed portraits, no guitar picks once used by Bob Dylan . . . not even an amp.
This may not be a man to dwell in the past, but it has clearly caught up with him. As the big day approaches, the Traynors are looking forward to one huge party. At last count confirmed guests included veteran rockers Freddy Keelor, Roy Canner, Dave Byngham, Greg Godovitz, Mike Sloski as well as Troiano and Bride.
But anyone who thinks Pete made it rich, forget it. As Abbott observes, ``The superstars make million in this business, the rest of us make a living.''
Susan Traynor, who sells cars in nearby Alliston, agrees.
``They should've made it a benefit,'' she says, only half-joking. ``Then Pete could make some money at last.''
The party starts at 6 p.m. on Saturday. Everyone is invited. Call 504- 7664 for information.