Some time during September of '99 Norman Granz called me from his home in Geneva, Switzerland and asked if I would attend an awards ceremony on his behalf. He had been voted the Lifetime Achievement Award from Jazz at the Lincoln Center but, because of ill-health, was unable to attend the presentation. Naturally, I assured him that I would be more than happy to do this for him. I was particularly pleased he had been named for this prestigious award because, it seemed to me, he had become somewhat disillusioned about whether or not his efforts in the recording field were truly appreciated and recognized. So, seizing this opportunity to help in showing him the respect that he has achieved over the years for his dedication to Jazz, I made arrangements to attend the function.
It happened that on that particular night, John Lewis, of Modern Jazz Quartet fame, was also to be honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award. So, knowing it would be a full evening, I set out to prepare an appropriate and hopefully not too lengthy acceptance speech. It is strange how things work out. I had a prior commitment to leave the day after the ceremony to meet the QE2 in Miami for the Jazz Cruise in honor of Clark Terry; so everything clicked from a chronological point of view. I was able to attend the event, accept the trophy on Norman's behalf, deliver the acceptance speech, and still make the engagement to which I had committed myself.

I left for the cruise, and immediately upon my return started getting queries about what it was that I had said on that particular night. Then I received a letter from George Wein, telling me that he had tears in his eyes during my speech. When I returned to my office in Toronto, my secretary Marion Meyer informed me that several newspapers had called for copies of the speech. Apparantly my talk had generated some form of emotional response.

I am more than pleased if this was the case, for I remain forever indebted to this great Jazz impresario. It is with this commitment in mind that I now include a copy of the speech, in the hope that those of you that read it will gain a better insight into this giant of his time, Norman Granz.
Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I can't tell you what a great pleasure it is for me to be standing here before you tonight to receive this honor on behalf of a man that I not only love dearly, but also on behalf of the Jazz world, which has flourished and grown through his tireless dedication and devotion to it. I am referring of course to the gentleman that this trophy now belongs to, and rightfully so.
I agreed to represent him tonight due to the fact that he is unable to be here, and so I am standing here proudly in the realization that the world of music, and certainly Lincoln Center, have finally decided to pay him a long overdue and certainly well-earned tribute. There is another side to my acceptance of this award on his behalf that I feel I should make you aware of. Norman Granz is most certainly proud of the voluminous and important musical legacy that he created during his years as a record producer and an impresario in the Jazz concert world. Nevertheless, I know for certain that his initial pride is rooted in his accomplishments in the field of civil rights. Having been a member of his Jazz at the Philharmonic concert packages, I was able to experience his unflagging will and dedication to change the bigoted and hurtful segregationist attitude of the people that he had to deal with below the Mason-Dixon line. His unflagging devotion and dedication to this purpose is remembered by those of us that followed him through his various performances in the South in that era. I can recall as a Canadian alien, sitting various nights in various hotel and motel rooms nervously wondering if our troupe would end up being some of the “strange fruit” that Billie Holiday sang about. I can also recall him standing his ground at the Houston airport when the sheriff pulled his gun from his holster and jammed it into Norman's stomach while telling him how he hated him more than he hated blacks because he was creating this situation by insisting that Ella Fitzgerald be allowed to ride in a “white” taxi cab. I can also recall his insistence throughout the whole southern tour that the seating for both races be equal, thereby destroying the heretofore practice of the group playing one concert at eight o'clock for whites, and another at midnight for blacks. I can also remember his insistence in what then were the pure “white” upper-class hotels catering to our interracial entourage. None of this attitude fazed Norman in any sense because his dedication was resolute and unshakable, not unlike his belief in the music that he was presenting. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the part of his career in the music field that I honestly feel that he is most proud of, and with due purpose for the single reason that throughout all of these reprehensible vignettes and instances, he won his battles. His unflagging dedication in the record business to presenting a legacy of the music of America of his period is vividly reflected in the incredible log of timeless recordings, such as the Art Tatum collection, the Ella Fitzgerald songbooks, the Ellington, Basie, Dizzy Gillespie, Coleman Hawkins, and on and on. I have no words for this voluminous work that he has created for generations to enjoy, and I am more than proud and honored to accept this trophy on his behalf. Would you all please stand and applaud this musical and humane giant that we know as Norman Granz.

©2000 Oscar Peterson