Ibecame addicted to music, and Harvey Glatt was my dealer.

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As a youngster growing up in Ottawa, I did not play sports. I played records. I was addicted to music, and Harvey Glatt — unbeknownst to me for the longest time — was my dealer. It was only after Harvey’s death earlier this month that I truly pieced together his surreptitious, yet outsized, influence on my life. Article content

When my family moved from Bayshore to Westboro in 1969, a month or two before my ninth birthday, I owned just two records: a 45-rpm version of Jimmie Rodgers’s Honeycomb (B-side: Their Hearts Were Full of Spring), and Johnny Cash’s live Folsom Prison album. Article content Article content

Not long after, Harvey Glatt very quietly slipped into my life and changed all that.

My early

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