[charlene]

PART 2
Does it frustrate him that Rod Stewart's cloying sex ballad Tonight's The Night kept it from the top spot?

He laughs. "Hey, maybe that was a good thing. I was pleased that it happened, but it was done at behest of the record company. I didn't want to rub it in."

Conciliatory, polite, collegial. That's Lightfoot.

When asked what per cent of his success derives from talent vs. perseverance and ambition, he fires back "HOW ABOUT PAYIN' THE BILLS!" as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

And while he's thrilled his old pal Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature — though he thinks Stompin' Tom Connors should receive one too — his take-away from their longtime relationship is not what you might expect.

"I had a really great chance to admire his work, because I was part of the office," he says of the days when the two were signed to the same label. "And what I learned from him most was to GET THE JOB DONE! Really, honest to god — just sit down and do it!"

He's a practical guy. Always has been.

"I love doin' the shows," he reveals when I ask what's kept him on the road in the 14 years since a near fatal stomach aneurysm almost ended his career.

"The ship of state is still afloat and I've still got the vocal — and the desire."

By this point, we're hitting the one hour mark. And while the grizzled troubadour graciously agrees to continue, I'm feeling guilty about monopolizing a guy who, during the first Trudeau reign, was as big a Canadian figurehead as that other Gord (Downie) is during the second.

But there's still lots to talk about:

• the fact he turns 78 on Thursday, the day of his Kitchener concert: "A good thing. That'll make it special."

• his friendship with Kitchener's Pee Wee Charles, his former steel guitarist: "The most amazing steel player I ever saw, nicest guy and one of my best friends. The beautiful thing about Pee Wee he was always in tune. He had perfect pitch."

• the moment he realized he'd made it: "It may surprise you. It occurred when I wrote 'The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.' The fact that tragedy occurred probably enhanced my career."

• his unflagging professionalism: "I have to play everything just perfectly. I can't take less of myself. I'm strong, I'm prepared."

• stage fright: "When I'm introducing my musicians, I always get nervous."

• plans for Canada's sesquicentennial: "They've got me booked until the end of 2017. We're gonna stick at it."

Before we finish, I decide to grill him one last time on the question he's scrupulously avoided: the enduring appeal of his songs, the way they manage to encapsulate ...

"The feelings people have," he breaks in, taking the bait. "The emotional trauma and emotional stress people are asked to deal with is astronomical. Hardly anyone ever speaks about it.

"Everybody's got so much of their own to deal with. They have no one to turn to.

"I guess music is one of those things that really lifts people up."

It's not an admission of greatness, but after poking and prodding for more than an hour, it's as close as I'm gonna get.