In Memoriam Oscar Peterson

The summer after I graduated from college, my undergrad degree, I worked as the Artist Liason for a concert series in Waterville Valley, NH. This meant I was responsible for making sure the performers arrived, got settled in their accomidations, made it to and from the venue, and got everything they needed backstage. It was a very cool job to have at age 22. I met violinist Joshua Bell, Roberta Flack, the Canadian Brass and others. But the one artist that was a true gentleman, a really amazing person, not just musician, was Oscar Peterson.

I came to jazz late in my musical development. I was trained classically - in fact, I got that job through my classical saxophone professor. At that time I knew little about jazz. I had never heard of Oscar Peterson. My exposure had been limited to the excesses of late Mile Davis, who I saw play rock-fusion at the 1986 Amnesty International benefit concert, and Spyro Gyra, who I loved in the early 80s. This was my first brush with jazz greatness.

I had the rare treat of sitting in a completely empty hall the afternoon before the concert while Oscar rehearsed the trio. I consider that moment to be the true birth of my love for jazz.

I remember following his limo on the two-hour drive to Logan Airport the day following the concert (which was unbelievable). When we got to Logan, he was concerned about walking the long distance to the gate - his health was already failing him (he had a stroke a few years later, but never stopped playing). I arranged for a wheelchair and I pushed him to the gate myself. He smiled, signed some autographs for the staff that I had been charged with getting, and then gave me a generous $100 tip - completely unexpected and unecessary, but he insisted after I first declined. It was a memorable gesture, but not at all the reason I fondly remember him to this day. He was real. Not a superstar personality - though he had literally played with everyone who was anyone in the jazz world. When his hands touched the keys, he was a giant. But when it was just the two of us at the airplane gate, he was a grandfatherly figure. He loved life and this world. An unfortunately uncommon trait.

Thank you Oscar.

Oscar Emmanuel Peterson
August 25, 1925 - December 23, 2007