In 1952 Norman Granz had one of his many ideas that he felt he had to pursue. The Trio was slated to first do a tour of Europe in the spring with JATP (Jazz at the Philharmonic), and later on, upon our return to America, we were scheduled to do a nightclub gig in Los Angeles. During the tour of Europe, Norman told me that he had been talking to Fred Astaire about making an album of some of the many songs that he had introduced in his various films, accompanied by a jazz group (led by yours truly). With his usual adept talent of planning this type of record date, he meticulously set to picking out some of the standard tunes that he felt Fred Astaire was best known for. Upon our return to America after the tour, he diligently set to collecting the sheet music for the various tunes that he would present to Fred for his approval. He also felt that I should come out to L.A. at least a couple of weeks before the intended record date in order to be able to run down some of the tunes with Fred, to make him comfortable on the dates. I flew out to L.A. about three weeks prior to the sessions, and spent various times going over the tunes with Norman and Fred and evaluating the musical context of the album. I must remark that Norman Granz had a great feeling for, and knew, most of the lyrics to these standards by heart, amazingly enough, and would make truly intelligent comments about the various lyrics in each song, thereby leaving the task of making Fred musically comfortable to me.
Fred was somewhat slightly apprehensive as to whether or not he could carry this off with a pure Jazz group, rather than the usual moviedom studio orchestras that he was accustomed to, yet he was enthralled with the idea. Finally the time for the first recording session arrived, and I vividly remember him walking into the studio in a dapper sports outfit, with a men's tie instead of a belt ruggedly holding up his pants to the outfit.

To those of you that have heard the album, I feel that the contents speak for themselves. On the last day of the recording, Norman had the studio bring in a large wooden board about six feet square, and place it on the studio floor. He then told Fred that he thought it would be wonderful if he closed the album with a tune that he could dance to, and so mics were set up close to the wooden panel to pick up the audio of Fred's tapping steps. It was a wonderful experience for all of us to do this date with the great Fred Astaire, and to see and hear this great show icon perform his vocal and tapping talents with a Jazz concept beneath him. At the end of the recording sessions, Fred was totally exuberant about the outcome, as we were, and he profusely thanked us, as he put it, for bearing with his lack of Jazz ability. We didn't feel this way about the dates, but rather were overwhelmingly pleased with the meld of the two musical mediums.

At the conclusion of the last date, Fred presented each member of the group with a beautiful gold identification bracelet with our names on the front, and a simple note of thanks on the back side, with his signature. He told me that he hoped that I liked it and would wear it on my various appearances. This I have done, right to the present time, and have been queried by various fans about this beautiful piece of jewellery that I treasure to this day.

Ironically enough, some years later Frank Sinatra threw a party for me at his home after having been besieged by his fans in the club when he came to hear the Trio. He asked me if I would come up with the Trio after our gig one night and play a few tunes for him, since he was unable to appreciate us in the club, due to his fans overrunning him at his table. I agreed, and brought the trio to the party after our work at the club was finished. Strangely enough, Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly were amongst Frank's guests. The moment that Fred shook my hand in greeting, he immediately pulled up my coat sleeve and said, "Are you wearing it? You still have it, do you?" And luckily enough, I was wearing it that particular night, which seemed to please him no end. He also informed me that he had caught me on some television show earlier and was emotionally moved when he spotted the bracelet during one of the close-up shots of my hands in the show. I still wear the bracelet to this day, whenever I perform, in memory of this very talented and gracious Dance Master.

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THE CUFFLINK SURPRISE

In 1954 a dear friend of mine gave me one of the nicest pairs of cufflinks I had ever seen at that time. I honestly admit that I have always been what you might term as someone more than just enchanted with men's beautiful cufflinks, but more truthfully a man hooked on beautiful men's jewellery. I was given a beautiful pair of cufflinks that were extremely wonderful to behold. They were fashioned as the face of an antique clock, with gold hands and numerals on a beautiful ivory background. I saved wearing them except for circumstances that I considered outstanding. The concerts that we played in Paris were held, at that time, in the Salle Pleyel, and between the hall itself, and the tremendous audience reaction that Jazz at the Phil received, these concerts were something special to all of the musicians, including yours truly. After the horns played the first part of the show, there was an intermission, and the second half of the concert opened with a performance by Ray Brown and myself. Apparently at some time during our set one of the cufflinks came loose and, unnoticed by me, rolled down the stage and came to rest somehow in front of the footlights. I did not notice this loss until returning to the hotel that evening, and reluctantly wrote it off as a loss not to be recovered. I told Ray about it the next morning, and he agreed with me that I should try and forget it, regardless of how much I loved that set of links. Jazz at the Phil continued on with the European tour, and we eventually returned to America some weeks later, after which I flew home to Montreal. It is still difficult for me to believe that what next happened actually took place. One morning some weeks later the postman delivered a small cardboard container to my home, and when I opened it I gazed at its contents with total disbelief. Inside was a letter from a fan telling me how much he had enjoyed the concert and my duo performance with Ray. He also stated that he had seen the cufflink drop on the floor and roll forward, coming to rest at the edge of the stage. His first thought, he claims, was to retrieve it and keep it as a souvenir, but he later decided that this would be inappropriate, and he reluctantly boxed it with a note of thanks and admiration. In his note he informed me that he did not know my address, but for some reason, he decided to send it on to me in Canada, believe it or not, simply addressing it as "Oscar Peterson, The World's Greatest Jazz Pianist, Canada." To this day I am still amazed that by some queer quirk of fate and circumstance, it was delivered to my home in Montreal.