It all started innocently enough: Reg Durdle, the webmaster for http://bellisland.net, asked me to help him film some video content of Bell Island for his site.

This was in April of 2000. Before long we were filming and the process of selecting background music was at hand. We thought we should use some of Harry Hibbs' music, but there were two problems with that idea. First of all, where would we get it? All I had was scratchy vinyl. Secondly, who would give us permission to use it for that purpose?

The first problem was solved by a visit to Colin Hann, an audiophile and record collector from Bell Island who, somewhere in his 5000-strong library of recordings, had some mint copies of Harry Hibbs albums. The second was solved following a phone call to Marty Hibbs, Harry's youngest brother and executor of the estate.

After a while, it occurred to me that it might be interesting if some of Harry's material was re-issued on CD. There was nothing on the market, but I wondered whether there might be some interest out there beyond my own. Perhaps others shared my odd taste in music. Discussions with some industry folks followed, and I was sufficiently satisfied that if I built it, they would come. What was surprising, as I proceeded down this path, was the depth and complexity of the Harry Hibbs story. It's the story that has made doing this project worthwhile and compelling.

First things first, find the masters. Arc Records was Harry's first, and by most accounts, the best label with which he recorded. Over the years, many have heard of Arc's legendary (and not in the good way) treatment of their artists. I talked to people in Toronto at various companies to see if anyone knew where Arc Records' tape inventories went after they folded in 1971. The last two calls I made were to Malaysia and the gentleman who more than anybody is responsible for the fact that you know the name, Harry Hibbs. Ray Kent is a new age prophet these days, into health and herbal medicines (check out his website - raykent.com). But in 1968, he was a frustrated musician working as, and famous for being, a private detective. He eventually became Harry's manager and producer. He wasn't sure where the Arc Records catalogue went, but he knew that people like Anne Murray and Catherine McKinnon had also recorded there.

So, I called Balmer Entertainment (they handle Anne Murray) and talked to Darlene Sawyer. A song that Anne had recorded for Arc was called "What About Me?", and had been a minor hit. She told me they were going through a company in Montreal called UniDisc. After some looking on their part, they found Harry, in all his two-track glory.

A couple of months went by and more masters were found including three Beta video tapes from CHCH-TV Hamilton, and some vinyl that could be used as masters, plus various tapes of unreleased material. By Christmas, I had nearly 300 Harry Hibbs recordings to sift through.

As I mentioned earlier, Harry's story was becoming as voluminous as his recordings. Was Harry really ripped off? Did he even care? And if he was cheated: out of what, and by whom?

Everyone I spoke to gave me a different impression of the Bell Island Boy. I had conversations with manager Ray Kent, Bill Gilliland (the guy who signed Harry to Arc), Harry's brother Marty Hibbs, Ben Weatherby (Harry's original producer), Catherine Phillips (an almost ex-Mother-in-law-to-be) and Kay Dadd (his last and only fiancée). According to them he was: a nice guy; aloof; a horror movie fanatic; short-tempered; distrustful; completely trusting; hard-done-by; devil-may-care; protective over his image; unpretentious; lousy player and singer; competent player and singer; the most unique voice in Canadian Folk; a unifying factor; a pioneer; and an icon.

I suspect Harry was no different than any of us: all things to all people. While he could remember people he had met only once 10 years previous, and knew all or part of 2000 songs (including an intimate knowledge of the Roger Whittaker canon), he was also daftly unaware of his personal chronology. Did he leave Bell Island in 1961, or 62? Was he 17 or 20? How many gold records did he have, and in what order? Why did he give them away? How many albums did he sell?

I'm still piecing Harry's story together. As he isn't here to tell the story himself, it may never be fully known who Harry Hibbs was. Maybe it isn't that important anyway; his life makes for a great story, but what about the music? That's what I kept coming back to as went along; there was so much fun in that music: so much joy, purity and love for the music.

Harry is important for reasons unique to him and his style. He isn't important like Rufus, Emile and Figgy Duff are important, like Ryan's Fancy, John White and Joan Morrissey. He isn't cool, or sophisticated, or even ground-breaking. But he was there; he was there almost before anybody else, and he was there after. For some of us, he still is. Night after night, whether it was concert hall or dingy pub, he played for whoever cared to listen. A consummate professional, he didn't always play for money: literally and quite deliberately. He brought Newfoundlanders together no matter where they were and he made it okay to celebrate our music. If he had been left alone as an artist and been better handled as a professional musician, the discussion about his career might well be a very different one.

If I can leave one impression with anyone who is discovering or re-discovering Harry Hibbs, know that he wasn't a joke; he was serious about what he did. His favourite Newfoundland group was Figgy Duff, he took pride in the success of Ray Johnson, loved an opportunity to book Bruce Moss at one of his clubs, wondered whatever became of the WGB, and always thought of retiring back home.