Rick Frank Joseph Marcoux.
Rick Frank Joseph Marcoux: Karaoke host. Charismatic entertainer. Husband. Friend. Born March 13, 1973, in Scarborough, Ont.; died July 17, 2017, in Toronto, of MYLK gene mutation, aged 44.
I can still recall the exact date when I first met Rick: Aug. 5, 2007. I had just returned home to Toronto from Montreal and was already missing the nightlife there. I longed to have that life again, so, I ventured out – on a Sunday night, out of all evenings – to survey the neighbourhood. To my amazement, a local bar, Smokey Joe's Cafe, hosted karaoke every week.
There I met Rick, who hosted the proceedings. He'd had the gig for several years, managing customers with their song requests, announcing who was up next and occasionally leaning in and singing softly to someone who was off-key. At the end of each show came his regular sign-off thanking us for coming – and reminding us to tip our servers well.
Every Sunday was one big party with Rick. Affable, fun-loving and gregarious, he was the consummate party host. We talked about music, current events and life in general. We were both self-proclaimed music aficionados, however, we both preferred listening to all-news radio. We were two middle-aged men, getting old fast. We even commiserated that someone our age had become prime minister.
In time, I met Maryann, his wife. They met while in their teens. He was to drive her and a friend home from a shopping trip, but Rick made them wait for almost an hour. (It was revealed years later that he was so nervous about making a favourable first impression, he got carried away trying on different outfits.) Rick invited them to karaoke that evening and there began a budding romance with Maryann that lasted 24 years.
However blessed Rick's life was, there was also personal tragedy. His father passed away when Rick was only 14, leaving young Rick saddled with adult responsibilities. His sister Lorrie died of an acute aortic dissection at the age of 32, and the following year his mother had a fatal heart attack. While in his early 30s, Rick discovered that he carried a mutation in the MYLK gene, resulting in nine surgeries over 12 years.
As a result, Rick sought solace in hosting karaoke. Whether it was drunk twentysomethings belting out Bohemian Rhapsody, an older gentleman wiggling his tush to a Katy Perry hit or some fellow who wanted to be an Italian tenor for the night, Rick was ready. He played it all – pop, rock, country, show tunes, oldies – and occasionally, Rick would pitch in and sing one himself. (Blame It on the Boogie by the Jacksons always brought down the house.)
In July, 2013, Smokey Joe's closed for good and Rick's show ended. Sure, he still had his regular Friday night at a midtown sports bar, but my visits were few and far between. Rick got another Toronto gig last May. A few weekends in though, he fell ill at home in Barrie and was airlifted to a Toronto hospital, where he died.
His funeral was pure Rick. After the church service, the doors swung open to a backyard full of games, bouncy castles, food and, of course, karaoke. It was a festival of friends who danced, laughed and sang. It was one big Sunday party again.
Rick would have loved it.
Nanda Lwin is one of Rick's many friends.
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