Denis, Everyone
By Dave Deveau
From Sad Mag issue 7/8.
The first time I met Denis Simpson, I happened to be wearing an ironic T-shirt that read “Raised on Canadian TV” and was emblazoned with a picture of Polkaroo from the famed Canadian children’s series Polka Dot Door. Denis, a renowned performer, hosted the show for the bulk of my childhood. That hipsters wear shirts depicting a character from a show he hosted shows the significance Denis had within the arts community. As a performer, he inhabited multiple, often contradictory worlds: children’s entertainment as the host of Polka Dot Door; adult contemporary music as the original bass singer in The Nylons; theatre, in which he produced overtly queer and sexy work (his solo show Denis, Anyone? had tremendous success at Arts Club); musicals aplenty; and even news programming (who can forget his stint as the Live Eye Guy on CityTV?).
Call it coincidence that when I first had the chance to pick the brain of this legendary Canadian entertainer, I was sporting the iconic image he was so closely associated with. But as we continued working together, I wore it to every one of our coffee dates and meetings to see if he’d notice. I spent my youth watching his smiling face, and wanted to acknowledge the effect he’d had on who I became. But how do you actually say that without becoming a bumbling fanatic?
Denis was a very public presence whose contributions to charitable organizations entrenched him as one of Canada’s queer crown jewels. His work as a community member continues to inspire queers and artists alike: Despite the numerous trials he faced in life, Denis was the utmost believer in gratitude. Ever gracious and graceful, Denis took many a wayward theatre fag under his wing and gave his time generously, relaying stories about a gay Vancouver that had changed drastically since his first West Coast foray in the 80s. Despite being a big name, especially in the local theatre scene, Denis always made time for anyone and everyone who needed it.
Though his passing last year left an open wound in both the queer and arts communities, Denis leaves behind his perseverance, dedication and open-heartedness. From the babyfag seeing his first instance of cross-dressing in an early Christmas pantomime to the theatre veteran telling a joke that makes the tallest man in the room throw his head back and guffaw, Denis is remembered by many as someone who knew how to create community. He was community. And the countless stories he told over coffee, under the polite supervision of Polkaroo on my T-shirt, will not soon be forgotten.