Gloria Kaye Kolmatycki

Through all the ups and downs of living a life in show
business (Toronto, New York, London, Los Angeles),
I had somehow managed to land on my feet with a
wonderful husband on two acres of scenic mountain
and ocean views in California. For a farm girl who
once lived in a home with no running water, what I
had now was not lost on me.

I thought my final phase in leaving show business for
good would come when we moved out of the hustle
and bustle that was (and still is) Laurel Canyon in LA,
and into the beautiful, quiet foothills of Santa Barbara.
To my surprise and delight, I kept my toe in the
business by writing songs for movies made for Film
and Television, and even though there are times I
miss the stage, I still feel very blessed.

Summer 2006: Sitting in a gloomy diner somewhere on
the outskirts of Red Deer, Alberta, I felt uncomfortable
as my brother Paul and his wife Ann gallantly held up
the conversation. Mike continued to stare at me, and
I struggled to remember. He was there in my childhood,
although mostly in my periphery. Putting my discomfort
aside, I returned his stare and hoped for a memory to
spark.

It was the way he spoke my name that suddenly lifted
the veil obscuring my early memories of him. I could
envision him now: a handsome young man in his twenties,
introducing me with pride in his voice, to his family.
I remembered how kind he and his wife had been to me,
and I realized I was looking into the eyes of a man who had
believed in me. The years melted away as Mike began
painting a picture of meeting us at an Edmonton radio
station, CHFA.

“Paul, you must have been 15 or 16 when you arrived from
a long bus ride clutching your guitar in one hand and your
sister in the other. Gloria, you were so.... small”, Mike
recalled.

It all began on a Saturday, after the morning farm chores 
had been done. Dressed in our best Sunday clothes, our
mom and dad piled us into our old Ford car and drove us
twenty-four miles to Boyle, the nearest town. Once there,
Paul and I caught a greyhound bus headed for Alberta’s
capital city. The four-hour bus ride was gravel and dirt road
almost all the way. The sun was nearly gone when we
arrived in Edmonton, so Paul with address in hand, coaxed
me to hurry for there was still a long walk to take. We
couldn’t miss our chance to sing on Henry Smichura’s
Ukrainian Radio program.

“When you two sang”, Mike continued, “... well you could
just ..... we couldn’t figure out how you did it. It’s like you
could read each others minds.... ”

So, Mike had been there at the start. After work, he
moonlighted as an accordion player in a band at the radio
station. He’d witnessed our initiation into the world of show
business.

In his best radio announcer’s voice, Henry Smichura told us,
“People just don’t show up at a radio station and sing live.”

“But we’ve come a long way...” Paul replied politely.

“Well, you should have called first", Henry stated.

As Paul and I stood dejected inside the entrance of a poorly
lit foyer, Mr. Smichura began to walk away. He couldn’t stay.
He had to put another record on for his listeners, but Paul
persisted and followed him into his tiny booth.

“I don’t know when we can come back... we don’t have a
phone in our house.... ” Paul pleaded.

Paul at 15

There was no window for us to see Mr. Smichura back in
his booth, but we heard him explain to his listeners that he
was about to do something he’d never done before. He was
going to allow someone to sing live on his radio program.

“His name is Paul Kolmatycki, and he came all this way
by greyhound bus from a place called Frains with his five
year old sister in tow. I hope you don’t mind. So now, LIVE,
Paul Kolmatycki is going to sing a song for you.”

Five year old Gloria with DJ Henry Smichura

“When you two started harmonizing, the phones at that radio station began ringing left and right. People wanted to know who you were. They wanted to hear more. Henry put another record on and practically ran into the room you were in. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw little Gloria standing on that chair.” Mike turned to Paul with a chuckle.
“He thought you wanted to sit in it.”

It was so unlike Paul not to respond with something clever. He just sat quietly, looking at his folded hands on the table. I couldn’t guess what Paul was thinking, but I was truly touched by this man who believed so much in our raw talent.

And I was totally unprepared for what came next.