It’s not every day that you drive home from grocery shopping to find Bob Dylan rubbernecking in front of your house.
But that’s what happened to city employees John Kiernan and Patti Regan, whose Grosvenor Avenue home was the early-1960s domicile of music icon Neil Young.
"It was very neat," says Kiernan, 53, a landscape architect who claims to have spent about 25 minutes chatting with the greatest singer-songwriter in the history of popular music.
"It’s a wonderful memory."
Two Sundays ago, the day of Dylan’s MTS Centre concert, Kiernan and Regan arrived home between 4 and 4:30 p.m. to see two scruffy men who had arrived by taxi standing on the sidewalk outside their house.
"Oh, oh, Neil Young fan alert," said Regan, who has become accustomed to such incidents in the six years they’ve lived in the amalgamated duplex at 1123 Grosvenor.
She went to talk to them while Kiernan lugged in the groceries. After he was finished, he walked out to chat, too.
"They were older than your typical Young fans," Kiernan recalls thinking.
Nothing clicked until he noticed that one of the men had his black leather pants tucked into expensive-looking cowboy boots. He glanced up and studied the lined, unshaven face topped by a grey tuque and realized he was looking at Dylan.
Kiernan kept his cool, while Regan, a project manager in the city’s permits department, remained oblivious. Dylan, 67, was curious about the house and neighbourhood as they related to Young.
He also made small talk about the weather. Kiernan replied that it was unseasonably mild.
"You’re from Minnesota, so you know what’s usually like," Kiernan said. "Subtract 10 degrees."
Dylan laughed.
Kiernan asked if they wanted to see inside the house, and Dylan was eager.
"How long do you have for the tour?" Kiernan asked, meaning the tour of the house.
Dylan replied: "We’re touring for another two weeks."
They showed him Young’s old bedroom, now painted bright pink and occupied by Kiernan’s 16-year-old daughter.
"So this is where Neil would have listened to his music," Dylan mused. They took him into the old second-floor kitchen, now a laundry room. "I remember thinking I should have done the laundry before I went out," Kiernan says.
Kiernan explained the whereabouts of the Earl Grey and Crescentwood community centres, where a teenaged Young and bandmates played their first concerts.
"He was introspective and thoughtful," Kiernan said. "He had an interest in music beyond himself."
The encounter lasted more than 20 minutes before they left. Kiernan believes the cab driver did not know who his passengers were.
While Kiernan called him "Bob," Dylan did not formally acknowledge his identity. He didn’t have to. "This was a guy who doesn’t shake hands or introduce himself."
As the cab drove off, Kiernan said to Regan: "You were pretty cool talking to a huge celebrity."
"What celebrity?" Regan asked.
"Bob Dylan."
"That’s why he looked so familiar!" she exclaimed.
She started screaming to neighbours who were raking their leaves: "Bob Dylan’s in the cab! Bob Dylan’s in the cab!"
Kiernan admits they have no documentary proof of Dylan’s visit, nor did they even get an autograph.
"It seemed cheesy to ask," he said. "I was embarrassed that we hadn’t bought tickets to the concert."
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