Oliver Jones. Marthe Sansregret
up around the piano.
***
At the beginning of fall 1950, Oliver hesitated between returning to school and trying his luck on the job market. He finally decided on a full-time job in a dress factory on Peel Street near De Maisonneuve, owned by the Taub brothers.
In the Jones family, a child who left school was expected to support himself or herself right away – it was the sign of becoming an adult, and Oliver found it natural to contribute a portion of his salary to Mrs. Jones to help cover the cost of his room and board. With the money left over, he went to the movies; even though he looked younger than his age, he could now prove that he was sixteen. He saw Rhapsody in Blue, in which the title piece was performed in its entirety by pianist and actor Oscar Levant, a member of George Gershwin’s circle of friends. Deeply moved, Oliver was convinced that no other music would have the same power over him, and vowed that some day he too would play it.
During this period, Len Dobbin, who indulged his love for accounting in the daytime and his love for music at night, followed the trio’s progress, taking notes as he observed them. Oliver, age 16, Richard, 15, and Bruce, 14, started to believe they were accomplished musicians.
The three of them went often to the Universal Negro Improvement Association on Dominion Street on the corner of St. James, an important venue for community activities such as weddings, dances, and sports events, all administered by Mr. Tucker. Bruce remembered: “We were wrestling, Oliver always on top!” At the back of the centre was Mable’s Pastry Shop, whose owner, Willie Daigneault, was a music lover. Willie had brought in a piano so that his daughter Aline could take lessons there. For Oliver, Mable’s was another place where he could play the piano and at the same time eat some of Willie’s delicious pastries.
Oliver had a lot of fun playing with Bruce for Charlie Griffith’s dance classes in the basement of Union United Church. Oliver’s buddy Luigi Vani was involved in this activity too. The other boys called Luigi “Skin.” He didn’t mind the nickname, since it came from the hip expression “give me some skin,” used by American Black men when they slapped their palms together in greeting – later called a 'high five.” Skin and Charlie were rehearsing a number in which one would do the splits and the other would leap over him. On the night of the performance, Oliver and Bruce began to play, but during the crucial leap, Charlie and Skin hit each other in mid-air and fell down on their rear ends. Everyone laughed like crazy; Oliver’s eyes were full of tears and he was sliding under the piano, without missing a note.
Although Skin had never learned to play an instrument, he enjoyed going with the trio when they played, especially for popular celebrations like Halloween, which was also his birthday. Because Skin loved to sing, Oliver agreed to let him perform in one of their shows. Preparing for this debut, he told Skin: “I’ll play some chords for you and you sing.” Skin imitated his idol, Frankie Laine, and belted out some songs from the American star’s repertoire, including “Jezebel” and “On the Sunny Side of the Street.” At the last minute on the night of the show, Skin admitted that he didn’t have a proper outfit and Oliver had to save the day by borrowing a suit from another musician. Skin appeared in this suit for a number of concerts at the Atwater Church Hall and at the Iverley Community Centre. One of these nights at the Iverley Centre, the eager audience got more than they had bargained for: while Skin was singing “Blues Skies,” the ceiling started crumbling, sending plaster down on the trio. Skin changed the lyrics to “Blue skies falling on me” for the occasion, while Oliver, doubled up with laughter, slid halfway under the piano while he continued playing.
As the boys gained experience and poise, they were given the chance to go on the road in Charlie Griffith’s big 1939 Oldsmobile. They drove to Montreal North, Terrebonne Heights, and other places where the piano had not been tuned in years. Oliver never let that hold him back. And if they were not paid, dallying with the local girls was a good compensation for one or two of them.
Between shows – the expression “gig” would only be used later on – Oliver would tell one his friends: “Sit down, I’ll draw your picture.” And he was good at it.
***
Oliver felt that he was lucky to live in the community of Little Burgundy and the district of Saint-Henri. It was a small world, modest in material goods, but rich in music and sports.
Once in a while, he played music with his friend Chuck Peterson. Chuck had studied piano like his brothers and sisters, but took up the trumpet after a tragic accident: at the aluminum company where he worked, a press had fallen onto his left arm, leading to the amputation of his forearm.
Oliver never missed a chance to chat with Daisy Peterson during his lessons with her. He remembered her explaining why most of her students should not count on a future in music. “Real talent is given to only a few, the sacrifices needed to develop that talent are huge, many young musicians invade the stages trying their luck, and even if the market to support a musician might be large, the money is scarce.” For the reasons enumerated by Daisy, Oscar Peterson, looking on from a distance, wondered how the talented and disciplined young Oliver would make his way. “I felt he was caught in a very difficult time, because at the time he started, there were a lot of jazz pianists, I being one of them. I admired him because he was able to find a pathway in between us, all on his own.” While Oliver continued forging that path, Skin couldn’t sing anymore, since the young man who had lent him his suit wanted it back. Nevertheless, Skin still followed the trio everywhere they went.
Prospects were improving for them. Richard Parris, who now had a decent saxophone, found them a regular engagement in a Chinese restaurant, the Lantern Café, on Masson Street in the east part of the city. With weekly earnings of $43.00 each for this one job, Oliver wondered if perhaps he might be able to make a living from music after all. It was good money for 1950. For the time being, he decided to keep his day job at the dress factory and to play both on weekends and on weekday evenings – except on Monday, the trio’s day off.
Oliver realized before too long that they were working in a rough milieu. Coming in to the Lantern Café on a Tuesday evening, he understood that during a party the night before, someone had put a foot through the top of Brace’s bass drum. After a discussion with the café owner, Oliver and Richard got him to pay for the damage to their friend’s instrument.
It was not only rough, it was downright dangerous. The price of a quart of beer at the Café was very low, encouraging men to get drunk and aggressive. Whenever there was a fight, the club owner, who also owned the building, would run outside and yell at the police station right across the street: “Police! Police! They’re breaking up my place!” Oliver and his two friends seemed to have a lucky charm, since nothing ever happened to them. Besides that, Richard said: “We were not that conscious about the fights because they didn’t concern us, and we liked to see a good fight anyway. Oh boy – the doorman, Mario, also the manager and bouncer, not a very big guy, but he knew how to handle any fight that went on. He would physically throw the guy out!”
From time to time, a bass player would be hired. It was such a wonderful feeling, especially for Oliver. The trio asked to have one all the time, but to no avail. The majority of club owners, knowing almost nothing about music, would say: “We don’t need a bass player who just stands there and doesn’t seem to be doing anything!” They didn’t understand that all piano players love to have a bass player because harmonization on the double bass is the equivalent of left-hand fingering on the piano: it can either reinforce the pianist’s left-hand playing or it can free the left hand from its strictly rhythmic role, letting the pianist expand into more elaborate harmonics or melodic variations. But to the club owners, it just seemed a needless expense.
***
The money Oliver was making at the Café, added to his salary from the factory, came to quite a respectable total. Still, it was difficult working at both jobs. His days were long and he was sleep-deprived. Early in the morning, he ran to the factory. At the end of the day, it was home for supper, after which he would run out of the house again, this time to his evening job. He thought about quitting his day job, for he calculated that playing music on weekday evenings as well as on the weekends would bring in enough to cover his expenses. But his father was adamant: