Memorable Meetings: Oscar Peterson

In 2006, as a seventeen year-old high-school senior obsessed with Peterson's music, my Dad and I took an unforgettable trip to New York to hear him perform live at Birdland, for what turned out to be his final New York appearance.

I was so excited for the show that, even though we had seats reserved, I made sure we arrived at the club over three hours early and I remember watching the curtain in anticipation for nearly the entire time.

I'll never forget the palpable feeling of joy and excitement the moment Peterson became visible to the audience. I think Bill Charlap said it best: "When Oscar Peterson played, it was an event. It was beyond a concert and it felt that way. The audience was pumped up. They felt truly excited...I remember one of my dearest friends, Sir Richard Rodney Bennett, and he knew Oscar, and he said, 'Every time you hear it, you want to go whee!' It felt like that, like going on a ride or something." Indeed!

The concert, which turned out to be one of his final performances, was unforgettable. As much as I love the hard-swinging Oscar Peterson, I remember being surprised that the few ballads he played that night were actually the highlights for me (and remain some of my very favorite live music memories). They were tasty, touching, powerful and filled with so much emotion. Whenever I hear a recording of "When Summer Comes" the special feeling in the room that night rushes right back.

When the first set ended and most of the house had cleared out, I asked Gianni Valenti, the owner of the club who I did not know at the time, if I could meet Mr. Peterson, for he was my hero. "Of course," he told me. "Oscar's backstage and he wants to meet anyone who wants to meet him."

"How nice!", I remember thinking, and he led me, the idiot 17 year-old wearing shorts at an Oscar Peterson concert, backstage to the receiving line.

I'll forever treasure the few minutes that followed. Beyond being a special moment meeting my hero, something happened that made a lasting impression. I was very nervous to meet him (especially after noticing that the person saying goodbye to Mr. Peterson as I was about to say hello was none other than Ron Carter!), and the only words I was able to blurt out were, "Mr. Peterson, you're my hero." He smiled, thanked me and asked me to have a seat, which put me a little more at ease. I then said to him, "My Dad and I flew up from Atlanta to see you." The smile on his face disappeared. All of the sudden he looked sad. "Aw," he began. "You flew all the way here just for that?," referring to the set he had just finished, more-than hinting that he was not happy with his performance. It was heartbreaking. I didn't know what to say, but I made sure to tell him that it had been a wonderful performance, which I truly thought it had been. It felt more than a little strange speaking these words of encouragement to one of the greatest pianists in history, but seeing the humanity of this musical giant was very touching and impressionable. His honesty, to a totally random teenager nonetheless, taught me a lot.

Coincidentally, years later, I shared this story with Ramsey Lewis, who was reminded of a time where he similarly was put in the totally unbelievable situation of having to encourage another one of the greats: in 1966 Lewis was on a triple bill with Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald and just before the start of the show he went to say hey to Ella but found her crying in her dressing room. "Why are you crying," he asked? "She said, 'Frank heard one of my records and he said that [paraphrase], 'I phrase wrong when I sing, and it really hurt my feelings.’" To which Ramsey said to me, totally baffled, "What am I supposed to say to the GREAT Ella Fitzgerald?! I tried to cheer her up and told her, 'you're great as you are!" [I found the following quote from Sinatra in a 1965 Life Magazine article that he penned: "Two singers who have excited all of us and still do as a matter of fact - Judy Garland and Ella Fitzgerald - are technically two of the worst singers in the business. Every time I see Judy I fall down, and of course Ella is my all-time favorite, but they still sing wrong. I've heard Ella sing one word with two syllables in it and breathe in between the syllables. This violates all the rules of singing."]

Anyway, afterward, Peterson and I spoke for a few more minutes before taking the picture at the top of this page. As I stood up to leave, he put out his hand and shook mine. He looked me right in the eye and, with a calming sort of warmth in his voice, said, "I want to wish you the best of luck with whatever you do in your future." I'll never forget the sincerity I felt in those few minutes together. The kindness and humility he showed me - this nervous teenager wearing shorts at his concert, made a lasting impression that won't be forgotten and for which I'm forever grateful.