Oliver Jones. Marthe Sansregret
support a family from it.”
Oliver hadn’t been looking that far ahead, but to please his father, he struggled on, burning the candle at both ends. He soon knew, however, that he wouldn’t be able to cope much longer, in spite of his youth, enthusiasm, and energy. He reevaluated the pros and cons of working as a shipping clerk, packing and hauling dresses to Morgan’s, Eaton’s, or Dobridge’s for $17.00 a week, compared to playing the piano for $25.00 on a week night and $75.00 on weekends. This was a lot of money for an adolescent to be making; not many heads of families got that much for a whole week of labour.
Oliver realized he was fortunate in this way. Even so, he still had not envisioned playing the piano as a serious career. At seventeen, he didn’t have the ambition that Oscar Peterson had had at an early age; he wanted to have a good time. Yet what his father had been repeating since his childhood rang in his ears: “No matter what you do, always be careful, because we are not the majority; it’s easier to spot a Black boy when the others around him are White.”
Oliver had to make up his mind one way or the other, although he didn’t want to be guided solely by money considerations. One day, when carrying boxes to Lindor’s, a women’s clothing store, he asked himself: “Am I going back to school or am I going to do what my father advised me not to do – earn my living with music?”
The answer came out of the blue. When the trio’s engagement at the Lantern Café was about to end, Johnny Mack, a saxophonist who had just finished a job at the Larocque Hotel in Valleyfield, let them know that there was a possible job for the three of them at the hotel.
***
Well-prepared with the repertoire they had developed at the Lantern Café, Oliver, Richard, and Bruce moved to Valleyfield for one year and plunged happily into the life of working musicians. Part of their enjoyment was due to the Saturday afternoon jam sessions, where musicians and amateurs met for the sheer pleasure of playing together. Jamming had become popular in the United States and in Canada since the 1930s, and offered a good opportunity to refine one’s technique and to indulge in a little gossip. When men said that women had big mouths, they were forgetting how many hours they could spend shooting the breeze over a glass of beer and a cigarette. Oliver did not drink or smoke, but he still loved to hear the latest news and meet new people. He discovered that his memory, which he had believed was too short to get good marks, proved the opposite outside school.
At one of these jam sessions, Oliver met Charles Biddle, whom he had heard playing with Al Cowans and the Tramp Band in Montreal. Charles was a Black musician from Philadelphia. After fighting for the United States during the Second World War in the CBI contingent (China, Burma, India), he had led the House Rocker Band, a rhythm & blues group. Charlie had come to Montreal with another band and had toured the province; when he returned to Philadelphia, he decided to move to Quebec. He mixed with French Canadians a lot more than most English-speaking immigrants did and earned his living by all sorts of different trades, apart from his music.
One of the things that impressed Oliver most about Charlie, his senior by eight years, was: “When everyone would wait around to get calls, contracts, Charlie would just go into a tavern or a hotel. He would say to the boss: Tm a musician, I have great musicians, I think you need some music in here!’ Charlie wasn’t cheeky, but he had guts! Before you knew it, he would bring in the band and start to play. The boss would say: 'For the first days, play free.’ But Charlie would find some way and he would eventually get the job.” Oliver found that Charlie had a strong personality and that he was aggressive: “If you met him, he would talk more about his fights than music.”
While Charlie Biddle was playing all over the province, Oliver was loving his experience in Valleyfield with Richard and Bruce. He was gratified that the trio’s fans were growing in number, and by the enduring friendships that he made there. At the end of the engagement, in 1951, Oliver was sad to leave some wonderful people behind.
***
Upon his return to Montreal, Oliver got various engagements while Richard and Bruce each went their own way, joining other groups. Oliver also played at the Mont Elephant in Pointe Calumet, a weekend contract that would last two summers. When he proudly told Vic Vogel about it, Vic looked down his nose at what he called a “civil servant’s job.”
During the rest of the year, Oliver took on a full routine, retaining Monday as his day off. On that day, he’d meet with Richard and Bruce, and together, they would follow Vic, who knew the places to go. They became regulars at Aldo’s, the Quartier Latin, and other clubs where they were admitted in spite of being under age. People knew that they were only interested in listening to music, and that they didn’t drink.
When he stayed overnight at home, Oliver was avid for every bit of news he could get, whether it was about the family or about his friends. He tried to draw out his parents about the past, including what they knew about his forebears. Like many descendents of African slaves, Mr. and Mrs. Jones were silent on this subject. However, if anyone mentioned Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia, then Mr. Jones would willingly enter the discussion, saying loudly, with affirmative pride: “This is my king!” The Joneses favoured the hypothesis that they had Ethiopian ancestors, although no information emerged to confirm it.
***
Whenever he had a chance, Oliver met with friends who were not necessarily musicians but with whom he shared interests common to youngsters of their age: jobs, sports, and girls. Catching up with news about his acquaintances, he learned that one friend, Larry Douglas, had had his leg crushed when he was trying to cross the railroad tracks, and now had an artificial leg. But Larry never let it deter him. “A very positive and determined young man, he loved to sing like the lead singer in the Ink Spots, a very popular American group during the forties and the fifties.”
Once he felt that he was up-to-date with the news on the people around him, Oliver returned to his routine, by now made up almost exclusively of music. It became clear to his parents that their only son, now seventeen years old, wanted to leave school and learn through experience. Naturally, they were disappointed because they had always insisted on the value of a good education. However, Oliver had strong arguments to support his decision. “There was no legitimate reason why I should continue to go to school, college, and university, because I would end up being a porter on the railway. Not that there is anything degrading about that, but so is the extent of our dreams. All the other jobs were closed to Blacks and to other minorities. A lot of children were discouraged, and they would say to their parents that an education didn’t guarantee any of us a secure job.”
Despite his paying engagements and the fact that he had been a member of the American Federation of Musicians since he was fifteen, some of the members of Union United Church had offered him financial support to further his academic studies. “The older musicians in the community had always encouraged me. So did my parents.” While feeling a deep appreciation for these people, Oliver realized that the possibility of making a living from music was opening up for him. He had a sense of fulfilment when he saw that through his talent and his arduous practices he could touch the hearts of many people; he wondered if God did not expect him to go ahead and develop this talent. The answer to the most important question of his life so far was “yes.”
***
The year 1952 began badly for Oliver’s family. Violet was diagnosed with the dangerous disease of tuberculosis. She required a lengthy stay in the sanatorium at Sainte-Agathe, a town in the Laurentians known for its restorative air.
To visit his daughter there, Mr. Jones asked his son to buy a car. They chose a second-hand green 1951 DeSoto, and Oliver taught his father to drive it. Bruce Parent watched the first lesson. “You know when you drive the car and you turn, the steering wheel comes back by itself. Oliver’s father turns the corner and when the steering wheel comes back, Mr. Jones believes the car is going back that way, so he turns back the steering wheel and hits a brick wall. The two of them end up in the hospital, Oliver with a cut and his father with a broken nose!”
If Mr. Jones paid more attention to his son’s future than to his driving lessons, it was because he still had doubts about Oliver’s capacity to earn an adequate living from playing the piano. Oliver