Although John Hannah was the youngest of the Brass Union members, he was already a ‘seasoned’ musician when he joined the band, playing first with ‘Pale Orchid’ in 1966, then ‘Ten Gallon Fat’.  The band recruited him from another excellent local band, ‘Major Hoople’s Boarding House Band’, when Dave Balan left the Brass Union in 1969.  With John came not only excellent drumming skills – his mesmerizing drum solo in ‘Ina Gadda Da Vida’ is still remembered by many today –  but he was also an excellent singer.  The song that you are listening to, by Led Zeppelin – one of John’s favourite groups – was one of his signature vocal songs with the band.  When the band broke up in 1972, John stayed with music, moving first to the local band, ‘Bully’, then to another excellent local band 'Privilege' in 1973.  John stayed playing in bands throughout his career – moving to ‘the Terry Crawford Band’, ‘Crackers’, ‘the Bugs’, ‘Who’s on First’ by the mid-80’s and finally, a local band (where he lived at the time, in Desboro, Ontario) called ‘Four by Four’.  John was a stage performer at heart with all the talents to do so, and although he did take the occasional ‘day job’, like being a courier for a few years in downtown Toronto, he never stopped playing in bands. John Hannah and I were very close during the Brass Union years.  He would often be at the commune-type home where I lived in downtown Hamilton to sit, work on tunes, or generally just enjoy growing up and playing in a band together.  I remember one night we were in town during one of our breaks between our Detroit bar gigs of 1971 and conversation flowed around to the future – what we wanted to achieve in our lives.  It’s odd, how even with the passing of 40 years, nights like these still remain crystal clear.  I remember John telling me about the ‘hobby farm’ he wanted to buy someday, something up around the Owen Sound area, with some land so he could do a little light farming, some water, a nice house and, of course, a barn to practice in.  Not only can I remember what he told me very well, but it also had a lot to do with the direction I would take myself after the band broke up, when I packed up and moved to the country.  John was that type of person, even back then – charismatic, very positive, with a sense of ‘drive’ to live his life as he saw fit.  Afterall, it was he who first quit school and showed up at practice with his High School Correspondence courses under his arm. By the mid-80’s, John had met and married his long-time girlfriend Debi, and together, they bought a hobby farm in Desboro, Ontario – 100 acres in the beautiful rolling hills of Bruce County, Ontario, complete with a pond, an old Mennonite farmhouse and, of course, a barn.  I talked with John’s sister, Helen, recently:  “John and Debi originally bought a house in Georgetown and sold it, both at peak times in the housing market, so that when they bought their farm, they bought it outright.  It was owned by a Toronto doctor who used it as a summer home for his family.  It came with everything included – furniture, window dressings, right down to the quilts on the bed – everything all made by the Mennonites.”  She went on:  “Once they moved in, they mortgaged the house so they could buy a woodworking business [one of John’s hobbies].  Someone nearby was retiring, selling his business and John bought it.”  So by the late 1980’s, John was married, had bought his hobby farm, had his own local woodworking business and was continuing to sing and play in local bands.  There wasn’t too much about his life then, that I’d not heard him describe to me that evening, twenty years before.

By the spring of 1989, the last members of the Brass Union were spread all over the country.  Len Blum was writing movies – Beethoven’s 2nd, at the time.  Bruce Ley was just finishing up his music work in Toronto and preparing to move to the country.  Darrell Nameth was in Brockville rising through the management ranks of Proctor & Gamble.  And Bruce Wilson was doing the same at Union Gas.  Cliff Hunt was booking bands all over the world.  Terry Bramhall was making his transition to New Country music and John Willett, Brad Stone and myself were building a fan base for the newest 8-piece horn band to come out of the Hamilton/Burlington area.  Rick Moses was just leaving music and setting up his own construction business and Peter Hume (Humble) had just moved to New York State with his new wife and was settling into the teaching profession down there.  Then, on May 9th, 1989, came the phonecall.  It was Brad Stone, and he wanted everyone to know that, while John Hannah was driving home with a friend from a party near his farm the night before, the car they were in was broadsided at a country intersection and John had not survived the impact.  The news hit everyone extremely hard.

Information about this period has been very difficult to acquire.  Most people remember the event, but few details.  I suppose that this is the way of deep personal tragedy.  I talked to Brad Stone recently:  “I was at home in Hamilton when I got the call from John Willett.  He said I have some real bad news – John Hannah’s been killed.”  With a noticeable hesitation in his voice, Brad continued:  “I think I just said thanks for the call and hung up.  And then I just sat there for about an hour, stunned.  I’d had grandparents die, but John was the first of my contemporaries that I had lost.  I then got on the phone and tried to track down everyone to tell them what happened.  We hadn’t seen each other in twenty years, but I called one person, and they knew where someone else was, and eventually I was able to get hold of all the last eleven guys.”  And on Wednesday morning, May 10th, we all met at the funeral home in Chesley to say good-bye to our friend.

John Hannah's farm in Desboro, Ontario in the spring and below, the farmhouse in the winter months

It’s odd.  I was there as well, but I only have a few lasting images from that day.  As John’s sister, Helen, mentioned to me recently:  “We were all in such a stupor on that funeral day - I didn't even really know who was there.”  And this seems to be the thoughts that I’ve received from everyone.  I don’t remember the service at all, but I do remember Chesley Cemetary and where they laid John, way down in the back left-hand corner, in the sun.  I remember seeing John Willett finally break down over by where we had parked the cars.  And I remember that we all went back to John’s farm afterwards.  But other than that, and one other thing at the farm, I really don't remember much more about the day. "It was great seeing all the guys again – I hadn't seen them in years," said Brad Stone, "But we were all walking around slightly stunned, with the 'deer in the headlights' kind of look.  It was one of those 'I don't believe it' kind of things.  I mean, after all the things we did and all the stuff we survived.  And here was John in the wrong place at the wrong time, out in the middle of Nowhere, Ontario, and that was it.  We were always in the wrong place at the wrong time and we came out of it totally unscathed.  I mean ... how unfair was that ??" When I got to the farm, I remember that there were a lot of people there – John always had so many friends.  I recall wandering rather aimlessly around the property for a while.  It was very surreal for me, as here I was in a place that John had told me all about 20 years before, and to see that he had found his farm and realize that he wasn’t there that day was rather difficult.  I met Debi, his wife, and I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I do remember that she seemed to sense that I wanted her to show me the barn.  We walked over to the side door, and when I went inside, there were John’s drums set up with the songlist for next weekend’s gig on the floor tom.  Well, that was it for me.  I thanked Debi and expressed my condolences to her in whatever blubbering fashion that I could find, said good- bye to whatever band members I met on the way down the driveway to my car, got in it, and drove home.  I felt bad about leaving unannounced as I did, but I knew I was on the verge of ‘losing it’, and that was something that I wanted to do in private.

“As you can imagine, it was all a bit of a blur that day,”  John’s sister, Helen, told me recently.  “There’s still people coming up to me saying ‘I was there’ and I have to say I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.”  Most of the Brass Union members stayed at the farm for about an hour or so, meeting John’s family and friends and reconnecting with each other.  After all, most of the guys had not seen each other for a number of years.  By mid afternoon, it was time to go, and one of the band members said ‘Let’s go have a drink somewhere on John’.  They headed out together and got as far as the first available ‘watering hole’ in Chesley and went in to have a toast to their friend and continue their reunion for just a little while longer.