There are jazz clubs and then there are JAZZ CLUBS! Having played most of the major such places in the world, in my view, Yoshi's, in Oakland, California epitomizes what a serious Jazz club should be. The dedication, preparation, care and respect that they demonstrate, both to their audiences and to the performing artists they bring in, is exemplary. Kudos to Yoshi's!
Now, at this stage of my life, where health restrictions have forced me to limit the number and type of engagements I select, I have drastically cut down my in-person appearances, and most particularly my appearances in club venues. But when my office was queried about the possibility of my playing Yoshi's, I hesitated only a moment before accepting, my one condition being that it be scheduled to follow the Hollywood Bowl concert after a four-day rest.

I'm glad I accepted. The Quartet opened there on August 28, 2001 for a week's engagement that was so fulfilling, it lives vividly in our memories. If we never get back there it will always be a pleasurable point of reference. The audiences were totally energized and reacted in the most emotional fashion. They hung on every note that we played and responded with grateful applause at the conclusion of any solos that seemed to really reach them, and most certainly at the conclusion of the various selections we performed.

There was a note of comedy on our opening night. As a rule the Quartet comes onstage one member at a time, each one soloing on the first tune until the next member comes on. As the leader of the group, I am the last to come onstage and put the group into operation as a quartet. Backstage at Yoshi's they have an elevator that comes up from the dressing room level to stage level. My group entered from stage level; however, due to my use of a wheelchair, I was put onto the elevator at the dressing room level, and was supposed to proceed to the piano from there on my own. As fate would have it, on opening night when it came to my turn to come onstage, the elevator failed to start. Ulf Wakenius, being the last one onstage, continued playing, and playing, and playing, while I waited impatiently for the elevator to bring me to stage level. The audience applauded wildly as each member's name was called and he walked on, and continued this when they called my name - except that I did not appear for what seemed like an eternity. I was finally forced, after an embarrassingly long solo performance by Ulf and the group, to walk up the stairs and onto the stage. By this time, it became a comedic scene because the group, sensing what had happened backstage, was doubled over in laughter. After they calmed down, and the applause ceased, we were into the first tune. This sequence of unanticipated events marks, I think, the longest entrance that I have ever made in my performing career!

The ambience and interaction that we enjoyed during our stay at Yoshi's, and the audiences' intense response to the group, was heartwarming. I feel it is at times like these that we, as performers, push the envelope even farther than we imagined we could, thanks in part to this emotional show of appreciation by our listening audiences. And there were a couple of other wonderful things that happened.

During our stay in San Francisco I was honored and humbled by the mayors of San Francisco, Oakland and San Jose making proclamations declaring August 28, 2001 through September 2, 2001 "Oscar Peterson Week" in their cities. Then, a reception was held at the Fairmont Hotel by the Atlanta International Jazz Society, based in San Francisco, at which I was presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award, an unexpected citation. I was also given a Certificate of Special Congressional Recognition by Barbara Lee, the member of the U.S. House of Representatives for that district of California.

I would like to say something to the donors. I have been more than generously honored throughout my career; but it is something I have never come to take for granted, and never shall. The awards that have come to me always produce in me an even deeper desire to be worthy of their acceptance. To all of you who made possible and graciously bestowed these wonderful honors, thank you so very much.

The final Quartet appearance on our west coast tour took us to Seattle and another Jazz club - Dimitriou's Jazz Alley.
Once again, we were met with congenial excitement and expectancy by the staff of Jazz Alley. This is a small, intimate Jazz venue that houses some of the most exuberant, devoted and emotional Jazz devotees I have come across. And once again, each night, the quartet was met with enthusiastic vocal outbursts, while yet being accorded total and absolute silence during the performances of any of our subdued ballads.

I made a special effort after each show, in spite of fatigue, to allow any autograph seekers to come back to my dressing room and say hello. Their responses were heartwarming. Many of them recounted to me the various instances on which they first heard me. Some brought their children to meet me, which was a gas, because many of these were in the process of studying piano. I asked a few about how their studies were going and what they wanted out of them. Their answers were mostly the same: "I want to be able to play the piano like you." (Probably the greatest tribute to be paid to me). It was a most gratifying and emotional week, especially for me, for I have always had some dear friends who live there, and was delighted to not only see them, but in a few cases be able to spend some treasured personal time with them. When I left Seattle to return home, my one hope was that I would have occasion and time to revisit this wonderful city and these great friends. God willing, I will do so.


©2000 Oscar Peterson